
October 31st 2015. From this date forward nothing would be the same for me.
Prior to this day my fiancé, Mick, and myself had been busy planning our future together. We had moved to Kojonup, a small town in the Great Southern region of Western Australia. We had bought a block and demolished a house ourselves – a tough and dusty experience that only reinforced our relationship. We were determining the final plans for our home together and looking forward to getting out of the house we were renting. Four months beforehand, Mick proposed on a sunny June day atop a granite outcrop overlooking my parents’ farm, and, of course, I had said yes. We had ordered “Save the Date” cards and jumped with joy and excitement as we started making wedding plans. And, unbeknown to us, we had already started the family we were planning.
October 31st 2015 started like many Saturdays. As a veterinarian, I was on call and was off to work. Mick, a plumber, had the day off and decided to visit my parents. When we said goodbye that morning, neither of us could have expected it would be the last words, the last kiss and the last embrace we shared together.
