Mr Woog grew up near the mountains west of Sydney. He spent his weekends swimming in dams, riding his bike and doing other traditional boy pursuits that no doubt also included snot balls and wedgies. He did this with his gang of mates. There were 6 of them and to this day, they are still like brothers.They have each others back. They are scattered all over the place now but get together for a weekend every year where they forget they have wives and kids and reminisce about growing up in the sun, shits and giggles and the time that Mr Woog rode 4km's with a case of beer on the front of his BMX.
They are all together today on the Gold Coast. Not for shits and giggles. But to farewell Damien's 3 year old daughter who lost her life to cancer last week.
There has never been a shittier sentence that I have typed.
Mr Woog has been saying all weekend "It is going to be bad.. really bad." I could not do anything but agree and offer to go up with him but he wanted to go with his boys. It is like he does not know what to do with his grief.
Women are better at letting out feelings. Mr Woog is a bit lost.
It will be a comfort to Grace's Dad to have his posse there. I do not doubt it for a second. And they will all hug awkwardly and there will be tears. It is going to be bad.... really bad.
Heart is bleeding.
Rest in Peace little Grace.
x
