The Road Without Him

This time last year, he took us to Busselton for my early birthday celebration. It was his idea - a quiet family trip by the water. The month before, I had surprised him with a river cruise for his birthday - his very first one. We had our ways of showing love, even when words fell short.

Looking back now, I realise I missed the quiet effort he made. His health was already starting to decline, and yet he still drove 2.5 hours just to give me that day. I didn’t see it then - not fully - how much strength it took, how much love was tucked into that drive. This year, Kenzo asked if we could go back. But we can’t. Not because we’re still in mourning, though we are. But because I’ve never been brave enough to drive that far on my own. Vic was always our driver - our compass on the road, and in life.

It’s been three weeks since he passed. And somehow, I’ve cried more in these three weeks than I ever did in the five years we spent apart. I think, deep down, I always felt he was still there. Still reachable. Still my backup plan. But now... he’s not.

He was my anchor - my go-to for everything. When the hot water system broke down, when I needed help setting up the alarm, when I was searching for the right monitor for work - he was the first person I called. Even just a few months ago, when my car battery died, he showed up and helped me jump-start it.

Now I wonder... who do I call next time something breaks? Who will come to our rescue at short notice? Whose name do I write down as the emergency contact at school?

I never imagined I’d have to learn how to live without him - and I’m still not sure I can.

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