![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTiePS32Q67Wi5Vg10eAEew3P_CQSDDy8vUg_-gxsLDQCOkWS5D87X2qbQtNHDYwGwubeDF_t9dzQc-sattJZhlT17wHgXW88CloJ4ttTE3OT7WjZdbtf7O4MqmgsSGym2a37bdsjypLo/s400/curt.jpg)
I was dreaming of fixing it up so nicely and then inviting him and his family for dinner here to see his estonished face when he saw the improvments I had done on the house he so very much wanted me to have..
Today, when I was working in the garden someone came by and told me that Curt died at his kitchen table yesterday. Quite unexpectedly.
I am now walking around int the house as a zombie - in a state of chock.
It right now feels like it it not worth getting on with it anymore..
Curt will not come by for dinner.. I will not lay eyes on his naughty brown eyes ever again and enjoy his dimpled laugh ever again.
As Astrid Lindgren so aptly put it: "Han fattas mig!" (His presence will fail me!)