Yes, surreal may be an understatement – "blue" was predominant but there were purples and yellows as well. Because of my grandfather's trade, seeing dead bodies is nothing new but even my father's body, 32 years ago, had been worked on before I saw it. When Linda left the room to let the police into the building, I became fixated on his face, thinking that he would open his other eye (his right was open, bloated, red and blue) and laugh.

Death follows me, it seems. Started at the age of 4 and comes in cycles of 2 to 4 years. I meet my new pdoc Thursday - less than two days - and this will be a certain immediate topic. It was the visuals that were the most disturbing thing at first. Now I'm angry. Not at God, not at Tom, but at myself. I took for granted that he would always be there - he said he would. But when he needed the least thing done, I couldn't make it up to his apartment.

I haven't even let myself think of this emotionally; I think of how we used to joke about whose body would take the longest to be discovered and which would cause the most odor and draw the most flies. It's been warm here lately, but I suppose that last Friday must have been cool. His windows were open, and there were some 'splits' on his torso where I guess gas or something had escaped. There were larvae along there. We weren't allowed in the bedroom while the coroner was there and I didn't ask about some of the things that I saw.

The worst thing, for me (and God, but I am a selfish bastard), is that I was depending on him to help me with the social phobias, at the least. He couldn't drive because he was legally blind but we had made plans for getting out.

Everything has changed, now. I'm not certain of much of anything. I had a sliver of hope about some of my social phobias because Tom would have been there with me. I'll just have to talk to my new pdoc. I think that if she suggests hospitalization this time, I'll take it.

Thanks for the quick reply. I had some awfully good times in Charlotte