Jun 26, 2009 - 04:30 AM

By Jeff Mitchell

WHITBY -- A wisp of cigarette smoke wafted skyward as George Perry shuffled, shoeless, along the walk in front of his Whitby home. Rail-thin, haggard, dark eyes empty, he turned to squint into the morning sun that spilled through trees in the back yard and sighed wearily.

"There's a ghost in this house," he said, to no one in particular.

He had arisen at about 4 a.m. on this Friday in June, the way he usually does, to a house devoid of company, save for the pudgy cat that nudged him into consciousness. At 9 o'clock, he typically watches a TV show about antiques. Then he generally checks on the news, but for the most part leaves the TV on, murmuring away in a far room, solely to breach the prevailing silence.

There's not a lot for him to do.

Coffee and cigarettes help kill the time. There are chores he could be doing -- the roses outside died last winter of neglect; the yard needs topsoil. A shop full of woodworking tools sits idle, despite the potential of freshly-planed poplar stacked there.

The shop is redolent with the thrilling scent of raw wood.

"Pat loved that smell," Mr. Perry said, running a hand over the surface of a plank.

He gently placed the wood back on the stack and edged out of the shop, sidling by tools heaped on a table saw. He closed the door on the clutter and the delicious wood smell.

The days are lengthy when you're by yourself. That's the way the 67-year-old Mr. Perry has been since his partner of 17 years, Pat Gostlin, was killed by a drunk driver as she drove home from Oshawa one night last October.

Mr. Perry was asleep when the phone rang; it was Pat's daughter, telling him that Pat had been in an accident and was taken to hospital.

"The next thing I know there's a knock at the door and the cops were here," he said.

"They told me she was dead."

The death of Ms. Gostlin, 58, a popular teacher and, more recently, a candidate for the Green Party, set off a cascade of grief and tributes throughout the community. Students from her decades of teaching wrote heartfelt remembrances of a dedicated and caring educator. Hundreds attended her funeral.

Michael Holliday, a 26-year-old real estate agent from Bowmanville, admits he was impaired when he swerved around a vehicle stopped for a red light on Park Road at John Street just before midnight last Oct. 25, and continued his ill-fated trajectory through the intersection. On June 4, he pleaded guilty in an Oshawa courtroom to impaired driving causing death, refusing to provide a breath sample to police, and failing to remain at the scene of an accident. He faces up to four years in prison.

In entering his plea, Mr. Holliday accepted the Crown's synopsis of events that night: After the crash, he attempted to restart his van and drive away but was prevented by a witness. He bolted on foot, only to be intercepted by a cop nearby.

At first Mr. Holliday denied the van was his or that he had been driving it. Then he said someone had stolen the vehicle. When he found out at the police station Ms. Gostlin was dead, he cried. Then, after a phone call to a lawyer, he refused to provide a breath sample to police.

The guilty plea came after several court appearances and negotiations among lawyers for the Crown and defence. Ontario Court Justice Mary Teresa Devlin is to pass sentence July 8; Mr. Holliday, a father of three, has asked that his incarceration be deferred until September so he can get his affairs in order prior to being locked up.

Many tears flowed during the hearing. The sorrow of Ms. Gostlin's loved ones was palpable as they told the judge how her violent death had impacted them. Across the aisle, supporters cried for Mr. Holliday, too; they know he's on his way to the penitentiary, leaving his young family behind.

But at least he'll be coming back some day, Mr. Perry noted. Ms. Gostlin won't be.

There is anger toward Mr. Holliday, of course, and also lingering tensions with members of Ms. Gostlin's family to which he alludes but will not elaborate upon.

But mostly there is the empty aching of irrevocable loss.

"It's every waking minute that the loss of Pat impacts me," he said, sitting on a couch in the living room he used to share with Ms. Gostlin.

The ashtray overflowed and he rummaged amid empty coffee cups for photos and mementos as he spoke. Smoke from a crushed butt curled past a picture of the couple on vacation in Mexico, smiling under their sombreros.

Tears threatened to overwhelm Mr. Perry but he choked them back and the silence gathered again. The fat white cat preened nearby and the TV mumbled.

"I've always been sort of a loner," he announced to the quiet room, then his voice trailed off.

"Something is gone and it's not coming back."

Pat Gostlin leaves behind her parents, three sisters and their partners, nieces and nephews, a daughter and a son, two grandchildren, and George Perry.