It comes to us all – the day the first of your contemporaries dies, and you’re faced with a new, more poignant sense of mortality.
That day was today.? But it’s not about me – I could make it about me, I am actually that self-absorbed, but it’s not about me.? It’s about a kind, gentle person, who looked after me when I was a long way from home, and it’s about the husband, the two tiny children, the father, the sister and the two brothers she’s left behind.? It sucks.? God, be their comfort – I don’t see how anyone else could be.