I went out to the bins today, which are right by where he fell. I tried not to look at the bloodstain. It feels like there should be some kind of memorial right there in my driveway, some flowers and a candle, like they do on the side of the road, and I wish I knew them enough to offer them the opportunity to do so. The ladder is still there and looking at it, he must have swan dived out rather than fell, and for at least six feet, out of the tree and onto his head. This is morbid, I know, but I dont know...how do you come to grips with a man dying not ten feet from your front window? How do you get over seeing his blood spilled in your yard each time you leave the front door? I don't want to wash it off, in case that stain is all they have left of him.

When I got home last night, there was nothing I could do except watch. I hated that because, hello, it's all about me *insert massive eyeroll here* The ambulance hadn't arrived yet and the son was holding his father, the wife was walking back up the driveway, and his grandaughter was at the head of the drive, waiting for the ambulance, I suppose. I had to drive right by them all to park my car, and it felt so wrong to do so. I was going to drive back a ways so they could use my headlights , but the son motioned me past. I felt awful just driving by like that (see: me, about, etc) and then I felt awful just standing and watching....I couldn't go in and I couldn't do anything, so I stood on my porch and hoped like hell that he'd be okay. Not for one instant did I think he would die though.

I dreamed about him last night, that the shit about the dog was sorted through as a misunderstanding, and that we at least knew each others' names. I guess that's why keep choking up, because I never really knew him,that after all those years, all we had was a nod of the head and a smile for each other, and that makes me sad. It makes me sadder still that for the past nearly two years, we haven't even had that.

I feel sad for his wife and kids. The boys are all grown, one with kids of his own who are going to grow up without their grandfather. He was the one holding his father as he was dying right there. He must be home from Canberra, and the other son, the one who bought the damn dog and who hates me, moved out a while back so he and his girlfriend (wife?) must have been home for a visit. There was probably going to be a family dinner or something.

When I think of what could have been...I could have been home and he might have got help earlier, or his wife could have not heard him, not looked for him, not found him. He could have died alone.

I'm really glad he didn't.