All the clichés come to mind. Tell your family you love them. You don't know what is around the corner.
If you think to call someone, or to see them, do it.
You hear of a child drowning, or being hit by a car and you wonder how you would cope if it were your child. I've never thought about adult children though, until I sat with Aunty Gail today as she cried for Brett. She spoke of them calling each other each Sunday.
I fed Maggie and thought of my aunt, feeding him as a baby. I remembered childhood events together. sleepovers at grandparents, model planes made from paddle pop sticks, jeans too big and breakdancing crazes.
Aunty Gail told the detective she had a plot next to her husband at the cemetery. Uncle Craig died of a melanoma when he was 31. Then she said "but I would like to use it for my son. I would like him to be buried next to his father". And she cried.
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