He ran almost every morning. Early and a long way. He did it in each place we lived and apparently had done so for many years. This is the road on which he died. Valery Road. He had no ID on him. He loved that after running in cities and towns that required keys and ID.
It meant that there was no evidence of where he lived or his name and the police had to go neighbour to neighbour till they found someone who could tell them where we lived. THEY said they all knew him as the Happy Runner.
He’s on my mind tonight because there is a loud party 2 doors down with a live band. That world is gone to me now but the memories are triggered by the Gig.
UP HERE IN THE FOREST – THAT’S WHERE HE DIED. THAT’S WHERE HIS SPIRIT LIVES NOW.
I do believe I am growing physically stronger and less in need of may hours sleeping. Excellent in its own way but leaving me with even more empty spaces which I don’t know how to fill and more aware of responsibilities which I don’t quite know how to meet as yet.