Pebbles

Dear David,

Finally the weekend.

Getting used to making my own coffee each morning, although it was always my turn on the weekends anyway.
I seem to be falling into a regular routine.
The alarm goes off.  Usually a minute or two after I have woken up already.
I stretch, roll over and then realise you are not there.

Then I get up, grab my empty cup from the night before, walk out to the kitchen and  avoiding tripping over the cat, wash the cup, put the coffee maker on and return the orange juice to the fridge.

Every morning, it is back on the bench.

I nearly didn't buy any this week, but it is one habit I am not prepared to break yet.

No work today.

Instead I finally worked up the courage to head down the coast to where they found your car.
For the longest time, I just sat in the car park at the southern end of the beach, looking at the cliffs, trying to work out exactly where your car landed.
It was quiet just sitting there with my thoughts.
I keep trying to figure out the puzzle.

Why was your phone in the garden?
Why do things keep moving, disappearing and appearing?
And the hotel booking?  Tiffany's?  Was your wallet stolen?  Your car?
Why haven't they found anything of yours?  Apart from the phone?

I can't shake the feeling James is still keeping something from me, apart from the fact that he has a boyfriend.
I like Blair.  I really do.  And I can see they care about each other.

It is good that our kids have someone to lean on at the moment.

Sue has been my rock.  She is coming around tonight.  I am lucky that Paul is so understanding too.  Both of them keep checking on me.

I ended up walking down the cliff path to where they found your car.  It is no longer there, towed away by the police the same day they discovered it.
The insurance company has said they will pay out on it in full.  One small blessing I guess.

Your work called yesterday.  You have just about run out of accrued leave and by the end of the month they will be stopping your pay.
I have no idea how I am going to be able to afford the mortgage when that happens.

You had life insurance, enough to cover all that, but seeing as they can't officially declare you dead yet, I have no idea when or if I will get any payout.

To be honest, I am scared.  I guess I will have to sell the house.

And it doesn't help with that stupid woman "Billie" telling people that she knows you are alive.
What does she know that the police don't?

People have asked me when the funeral is.  Can you even have a funeral without a body?

So many questions.  And no answers.

I sat on the rocks, stared into the water and wondered if you felt any fear as the car went over the edge.
Did you know you were going to die?
Did you think of me?

I actually hope this is all a big mistake, that perhaps your car was stolen and you are somewhere.
But then, surely, someone would know where you are, and somebody would have come forward with proper proof.

It is easy to lose myself in the what ifs and the maybes.
Much easier than the actual.

In the end, on a whimsy I gathered pebbles into a heart shape and with a twig wrote your name.
And as I watched the waves wash over it, erasing your name and scattering the pebbles, I turned and walked back to the car.

One foot in front of the other.

Making a "to do" list in my head as always.

Best to keep busy.