This morning we played mah jongg. Dad was very present. He won twice and Mum won twice. This afternoon my brother Iain dug a new post hole for Mum’s mailbox. My brother Alain arrived in the evening. He and Sarah and Mum and I opened the bottle of shiraz and had uproarious fun. We snuck past the nurse’s station in gales of laughter.

Tomorrow Iain and I will set the mailbox in cement. “We will cement the hell out of that hole,” as he put it. Then he has to go home to Sydney.

In between, as I ran various errands, I wept in the arms of Lauren, who runs the deli, and Karen, my Barraba yoga instructor.

People are beyond kind.

Tomorrow Mum gets a morphine pump.

Heat wave. Glaring sunshine. Birdsong. My fucking heart is broken.

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