Tuesday, October 15, 2002
Aussie Tim Blair explains:
I don't cry. A lot of Australian men don't. I get through funerals without crying. I've sat beside beloved relatives as they've died in hospital, and I've coped. Or not coped, I guess, depending on your theories about crying.
So I'm watching the news at 5pm and suddenly, out of nowhere, start crying.
A reporter had gone to the airport to cover the arrival of survivors from Bali, and stumbled upon another story. A girl was walking around the airport with a photograph of her older brother. She'd been there for hours. She was walking up to every passenger getting off planes from Bali, and was asking if they'd seen him.
"This is my brother," she said, in an unwavering voice that was somehow also shot through with grief, and fear. And love. She held up another picture: "This is his friend. Have you seen them? They were together."
Nobody had. Nobody could help her. Her little voice was the saddest sound I've ever heard.
Just typing that, I'm crying again.