Only time will tell
Seconds turned to minutes.
I couldn't breathe.
I let out a visceral cry - a sound I never knew I had in me. Hands shaking. Vision blurred. My heart felt a crushing pain as though someone had just stepped on it. It scared my two and half year old so much that in front of my eyes he grew old enough to be able to say 'Mum I'm here'.
Minutes turned to hours.
I called the Deparment of Foreign Affairs and Trade to let them know that my brother had just died in on the Matterhorn. Surreal.
I called my brother's girlfriend. That conversation was short, maybe 10 seconds. She said she had to go.
I finally found the courage to call my parents. My mum collapsed to the ground, and my dad didn't get a chance to react because he knew he had to be there for her. I couldn't do anything for them because they were miles away, in India.
Later in the evening I called Inspector Kuonen at Zermatt police. He informed me that they had him in their possession. What a strange thing to say. He needed to be identified. Why? That would take time. How long?
Days turned to weeks.
What followed was a flurry of activity. Family and friends coming to my aid. A cousin from Sydney, family from Melbourne, friends in town reaching out. Frozen meals filled the freezer. I had to keep functioning, I have a two and half year old.
No one realises what's involved in death unless they have had to experience it first hand. Just put one foot in front of the other. DNA tests, Swiss police, Austrian insurance companies, coffin selection, funeral music, crushed parents, devastated girlfriend, Facebook messages. Memories.
No one knows how death will affect them, what they will need to do in the minutes, hours and days that follow.
I know I never knew.
Now I do.
I couldn't breathe.
I let out a visceral cry - a sound I never knew I had in me. Hands shaking. Vision blurred. My heart felt a crushing pain as though someone had just stepped on it. It scared my two and half year old so much that in front of my eyes he grew old enough to be able to say 'Mum I'm here'.
Minutes turned to hours.
I called the Deparment of Foreign Affairs and Trade to let them know that my brother had just died in on the Matterhorn. Surreal.
I called my brother's girlfriend. That conversation was short, maybe 10 seconds. She said she had to go.
I finally found the courage to call my parents. My mum collapsed to the ground, and my dad didn't get a chance to react because he knew he had to be there for her. I couldn't do anything for them because they were miles away, in India.
Later in the evening I called Inspector Kuonen at Zermatt police. He informed me that they had him in their possession. What a strange thing to say. He needed to be identified. Why? That would take time. How long?
Days turned to weeks.
What followed was a flurry of activity. Family and friends coming to my aid. A cousin from Sydney, family from Melbourne, friends in town reaching out. Frozen meals filled the freezer. I had to keep functioning, I have a two and half year old.
No one realises what's involved in death unless they have had to experience it first hand. Just put one foot in front of the other. DNA tests, Swiss police, Austrian insurance companies, coffin selection, funeral music, crushed parents, devastated girlfriend, Facebook messages. Memories.
No one knows how death will affect them, what they will need to do in the minutes, hours and days that follow.
I know I never knew.
Now I do.
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