Friday the Thirteenth with a Vengeance

Yesterday was Friday the Thirteenth. It was not that good a day.

The morning was fine, not actually that bad, but it would have been my Grandmother's birthday. My mum reminded me of this and I started to feel upset. I knew that it would have been her birthday, but it was just being reminded of it, it made me upset.

Then in the afternoon we were asked to telephone the coroner about my Dad's inquest. My mum phoned and they had only just received the report from the consultant at the hospital. The coroner wants my mum to read it before the inquest and as this was schedualed to be on Tuesday, coupled with the postal strike, they did not feel that it would arrive in time to be read. Also the coroner wants the consulatant and another doctor to be present at the inquest. Because of dates and times, the coroner doesn't think that another date will be avaliable until October. So that is more time to wait for an answer to some of the questions that we have that we seem to have been asking for ages.

It is strange to think that it has been over five months since he died. It still seems like it was yesterday. I often cry myself to sleep because I keep thinking about things that I should have done when we got to the hospital, or what I should have done on that day. I had a feeling in the morning that something wasn't right, even before my mum called the ward to find out how he was. Then when they said that it was nothing to worry about and my mum wouldn't go to the hospital because she felt that she would have "been in the way" and I wanted to go, I keep telling myself that it was my fault and that I should have gone. I just want to talk to him. I miss him so much. It hurts so badly. I feel cracked and broken. Hollow...