In a decade of blogging, this is likely the most personal post I’ve ever written.

It’s a story that more belongs to 2025, but it’s taken near on 12 months for me to process exactly what happened.

Tracey and I met while we were both students at Griffith University in the mid 80’s. I was nineteen and Tracey was a year younger.

We were in the campus theater group together and were both involved in a play called HE WHO STRIKES THE SILVER SURFER.

We became girlfriend and boyfriend and were together for four magical years.

We enjoyed so many wonderful times together, including an overseas holiday to New Zealand, going remote fruit picking, camping getaways, celebrating each other’s 21st birthdays, stocking a newly built 7/11 store together on the Gold Coast and attending EXPO 88 on jointly purchased 6-month season passes.

There were hundreds of passionate letters and a similar number of long, long phone calls exchanged between the two of us. It was truly a special time with so many happy moments.

I recall we even read the same 663-page true-crime book FATAL VISION. That takes some doing!

Tracey was my first love of what I would term my young adult life. Our time together was intensely physical and full of new experiences and milestones for us both.

Together we were on the cusp of entering the adult world. It was an exhilarating, innocent time full of lasting, beautiful memories. I don’t recall a single argument between us… because there were none.

The story you will read over the next few weeks is what happened when I went looking for Tracey more than three decades on.

It’s a story full of twists ‘n turns, unexpected surprises and intrigue. I never expected it to unfold the way it did. Even now, 12 months on, I can scarcely believe it all really happened the way it did.