My first, my last, my everything.

How are you?

I'm okay I guess.

You don't sound too sure.

Well I still burst into tears in the middle of the street. 

Today I did just that. As I was walking the dog a neighbour drove past in his Lotus 7, he's older than Tall and has quite a collection of cars, all of which Tall adored. I reflected internally on how unfair it all was, but resigned myself to the fact I couldn't change things.

As we neared home a different neighbour was polishing his 1967 Mini, I just burst into tears. One of Tall's first jobs was working as a mechanic on Mini's, it was also his very last job.  A month before he died he helped out "the lads" at the garage he always used. They had had an old Mini sitting there for over twelve months, unable to work out why it wouldn't start. The mechanics, who are both in their thirties had no experience of working on older cars. Tall knew exactly what the problem was. He got them to take off the carburettor and he brought it home. He ordered the parts he knew he needed online and then sat, with his oxygen on, fixing it. He took back the carburettor and got them to refit it, he was then given the honour of starting the car up. It started first time. I cannot express how proud he was, knowing that he could still make a difference even when stuck in a wheelchair on oxygen. Me, I'm just so incredibly sad that he isn't here to still make a difference.