Page 83 of The Quirky Vet

I'm in the thick of it yet at the same time completely disconnected from everything and everyone.

Well, not everyone.

The one constant, the one person who's been by my side ever since I made that panicked call to him, is Fitz.

"Here, have a cuppa." Fitz walks into the living room and hands me a cup of tea. I'm about to place it on the coffee table and forget about drinking it, as I'm prone to do, when he adds, "This one has whiskey in it because I'm not above using alcohol to get you to drink something."

"I'm sorry," I say, taking a sip. "I just don't feel like drinking or eating."

"I get it." He sits down next to me and says gently, "Do you think you should maybe stop reading that?"

I glance down at the local paper in my lap and shake my head. I know re-reading Gramps's obituary incessantly might not be the healthiest thing, but it's what I need right now.

I still can't believe he's gone, which makes no sense because, hello, he was in his frigging eighties, and these few paragraphs feel like a connection to him.

It is with deep sadness that we announce the passing of Sid Landers, aged 81, of Scuttlebutt, Queensland. Sid was known for his stubborn streak and razor-sharp wit, qualities that endeared him to all who had the pleasure of knowing him. His humour could light up any room, and his kindness touched countless lives in his beloved tight-knit community of Scuttlebutt.

Whether sharing a laugh at the local pub or lending a hand to a neighbour, Sid's warmth and generosity knew no bounds. He was a devoted husband to his late wife, Shirley, and a proud father and grandfather, cherishing every moment with his family.

A funeral service to celebrate Sid's life will be held at The Scuttlebutt Community Hall. In lieu of flowers, the family kindly requests donations be made to the Royal Flying Doctor Service, a cause dear to Sid's heart.

Rest in peace, Sid. Your laughter and spirit will echo in the outback forever.

"Maybe you're right," I concede. I carefully fold thenewspaper, making sure the obituary doesn't get creased, set it down on the table, and take a few sips of tea.

"What do you need from me?" Fitz asks, worry etched all over his face.

"Nothing right now. You've been incredible," I say, looking him in the eyes.

He really has been.

He hasn't been able to get out of work since the clinic can't afford to be two vets down, which I totally understand, but he's been with me every single moment he's not at work. He's cooked. Tried to get me to eat. Helped me interact with well-wishers. Dealt with some of the legal stuff I don't have the capacity to handle.

"I'm so grateful to you for everything you've done, Fitz. Especially…" My eyes drift down the hallway to my bedroom.

He's stayed over every night since it happened since I can't handle sleeping in the house alone, but I also can't bear the thought of leaving.

I'm probably not making much sense at the moment, and he's been fine with that. More than fine. I don't know how he's putting up with me, but he's been amazing.

It's taking me by surprise just how much this is affecting me. Logically, I knew Gramps was getting on and that he was going to die at some stage, but it still feels so unexpected, so out of the blue.

And since he was as much a father figure to me as he was a grandfather, it's bringing back the memory of losing Dad, too.

At least our last words to each other wereI love you. I'll always be thankful for that. That I hugged him and told him how much he meant to me. We didn't always do that. Normally, we just said goodnight and left it at that. It's a good reminder to always tell your loved ones how you feel because you never know when you might not be able to say those words to them again.

"Are you tired?" Fitz asks.

"I am." Even though I have no idea what time it is. I look outthe window, and it's dark, but it could be seven, or it could be past midnight. "Don't know if I'll be able to sleep before the funeral."

"That's okay. Let's go to bed, and we can stay up and talk if that's what you want."

"Sounds good."

We get up and get ready for bed. We haven't done anything sexual obviously since neither one of us is in the mood, but it's been nice having a warm body to fall asleep and wake up with.

Once we've showered and are lying in bed with the lights on, Fitz turns on his side to face me, propping himself up on his elbow. "There's one thing I've been dreading bringing up, but since I'm assuming she'll be here tomorrow."

"Ah, my mother."

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