Well today I found out Jason wasn't on his own when he died. That seems good. He phoned his folks on New Years Eve as he felt unwell, who took him to their house and called the emergency Dr. They then took Jason straight to hospital, where he either fell unconscious or was sedated. It became apparent he wasn't going to wake up, then his parents called friends of his to say goodbye. A mutual friend contacted one of these friends (Jason's ex) and kindly told me how he died. It seems terribly important to know how he died - and its a huge relief that he wasn't afraid and alone when he died.

People have been immensely kind today and I need to not overlook this in my grief. The gift of simply being here to feel this pain is quite something - I've been so overwhelmed with it all that I've quite forgotten that.

So, Louise was kind in immediately letting me know how Jason died. She phoned on her way back from meeting Steve. Greg was kind too - he owns a local coffee shop and is coffee intense! We'd been talking to a mutual friend about his autistic children, he mentioned this to us and his whole demeanour changed. We went to his shop on Christmas day, and he held my daughter's hands as she was cold and recovering from an awful bug. We've not had the easiest relationship in the past so this means a lot. It's not a tragedy to find out your child is autistic but it needs adjustments and he was talking about that. It's good to talk to someone who has trodden the same path. We also spoke to friends of ours - a gay couple as it turns out. For some reason, because Jason was gay, it was somehow healing and life affirming. Marc's mother died some time ago and I was talking about Jason. I don't seem to be able to stop, but Marc was saying some really poignant yet pragmatic things. Just that dying is inevitable and that for some, dying in their prime as opposed to lonely in old age might be preferable. Plus he urged me to do something on the day of the funeral. We've decided not to attend as it's a long way and I would be quite upset which wouldn't be great for the kids. Plus we can't afford the associated costs. I am sad about this but myself and Marc both came up with the idea of perhaps burning a photo or something.

Letting go - I've forgotten about this. In the past I've relied a lot more on this but it's been hard to do now. Another reason why is I feel guilty for being here now Jason is not. It's only fleeting but its there. Guess it's a version of survivors guilt - he was younger than me and I feel protective.

The world still turns after all. Wish I could go to the funeral. Thinking of releasing something down a stream or maybe going to the Priory although as Jason was a Christian not sure how that sits right now.