Last Thursday an elderly acquaintance became lost in the bush roundabout the town.
Most of the area's rescue personnel, police, SES, plus an unknown number of volunteers and friends, and a rescue helicopter tacking and booming above the town, spent two days searching for her.
All sorts of what-ifs were mooted for her disappearance but the plain facts were that she fell into the river and was probably drowned. That's where she was found on the third day.
Between the searching and comforting a couple of her anxious fellow residents, Audrey's last moments were all I could think of.
When there's a passing, or a death if that is what you call it, like I do, or a stepping off from the mortal coil, the person's last moments are what most exercise me. Until I have a go imagining them and writing them down, usually in some kind of poetic form, I cannot attend to the usual.