In December, shortly before Christmas Eve, I received a call from your mum, saying that I should come immediately.
I was staying at George's place and it took me over an hour to get to the hospital your mum said you were staying at. I didn't know what was wrong, your mum didn't say on the phone and I was expecting the worst. This was probably the most terrifying hour of my life.
Your mum said that she found you on the street in the snow, barefoot and in your pyjamas, looking for your keys. She didn't know how long you had been standing there and that you were extremely cool so she called an ambulance that took you to the hospital.
The doctors said that it was time for you to go to a place where someone could look after you 24/7. They said it was time for you to go to a hospice because they could provide the best medical care and environment for cases like you there.
When the doctors said that you should move into the hospice they actually meant that it wouldn't be long until you died.
I went back to George's house in the evening and told Blake and George. They were as shocked as I was.
George took a bottle of his parents' liquor out of a drawer in the living room and we got drunk while listening to Mark Diamond.
