F is for forensics, futility and, not least of all, FUCK

I came home with the kids today and there was a cop car parked on my street. Not unheard of, but unusual. We went to McDonald's to shorten our lifespan and when we came home not only was the cop car still there, there was a forensics van as well. Just as we got out of the car, one of my neighbours was talking to the police so when she was done I asked her what was up. I figured the usual, drugs or a spot of domestic violence.

It turns out that our neighbour Martha had fallen down the stairs and died. DIED.

Martha lives alone except for her dog, so this could have turned into one of those things that you read about in the Sun. Fortunately (or unfortunately for the friend) her friend found her this morning. Martha was legally blind, although she could see a bit. She walked with a white stick, but recognized me enough to say hi in the park the other day.

Which brings me to the cops again. I said to my neighbour Jenny, I just saw her yesterday! and Jenny said, I think you should tell that to the cops. So I did and they said are you sure? and of course I was far from sure. They were trying to establish timeline. My days are a big blur of routine... go to work, come home, pick up the kids, put them to bed, repeat. I *thought* it was yesterday, but it could have been Tuesday. How's that for feeling like a totally incompetent dork? The only thing that saves me from being a total evidenciary nightmare is my ability to admit I might be wrong.

Martha was a lovely woman, younger than my mom. They said she didn't suffer and I really really hope that's true. Jen said she heard her dog barking on Tuesday night. I can only imagine how awful it must have been for her.

Life is short, man.