Today was Matt’s inquest. Four months and two days after his death, the Coroner recorded his final conclusion. I and my two rocks, aka the mob, Austin & Natasha went along. I can’t really explain why it was important to be there. It just was, and it meant a lot to me. Ever since we met, we have done as much together as we possibly could; we were never not in touch, we were always a part of each other’s lives. And once he lived down here, we were rarely apart. We wanted to be together, even if work and logistics sometimes got in the way. We would still be msging, txting, calling, whatever it took. I was there when he died, and I have been there at every step on his final journey after that, and this was just one more step along the road I have to walk. It felt right for me, and for us. To bear witness, to be his representative. To be there when he cannot.
And it was ok. As with all the professionals I have met along the way, from first responder to Coroner, everyone has dealt with us with tact, empathy, and professionalism. I am very grateful to the NHS, even though they couldn’t save him. They did the best job they could, they dealt with me, they dealt with my kids, and like it or not, it doesn’t matter what you do, sometimes it’s just too late. I am so glad that it hasn’t put Austin off becoming a paramedic, even if it has meant I now flinch when I hear a siren, or see the air ambulance…
Anyway. The coroner’s conclusion (used to be called a verdict) will record that Matt’s death was drug related. and that he self-administered morphine and tramadol but that his intentions at the time cannot be established. I have informed those who are in touch with me and who needed to know. No-one is ever going to know what happened. There is no proof of any intent. And whatever it was, whatever he did or didn’t do, makes no difference to the end result. Matt is dead, and I have lost my other half, my partner, my lover, my fiancé, my rock, my everything.
It’s a weird feeling. I was dreading it, but now it’s over and done with, so there’s a degree of relief involved. And all the formalities of his death are now over and done with, bar the estate creditors shouting. He was intestate and insolvent, so good luck with that.
But it isn’t “closure”. That word means nothing. One coroner’s verdict doesn’t suddenly fix everything. It doesn’t stop me missing him like h*ll, or crying on and off all day. I still feel bereft. Lost. Lonely. And there isn’t a conclusion in the world that is going to fix that
Like I say. Long day. Sad day. Another day done. Did I mention I hate it?