One of my favourite memories of our dad is sitting in the lounge of the house I grew up in, me on the floor in front of his chair, dad sitting (as he always did) with one leg hanging over the side, both of us laughing like drains at the manic, mile-a-minute humour of Robin Williams Live at the Met. Dad thought he was the bees knees, and I laughed along with him even though I didn't get all the jokes.

And now it seems that this wonderfully humorous, by all accounts sweet and caring man, marvellous actor, both comic and serious, has taken the same path as our dad.

I'm not going to enter into any of the debates (brave? selfish? etc) - I have my own point of view and don't care who thinks it may be right or wrong. But I do have an inkling of what that poor family will feel, and my heart just breaks for them. And for us, all over again.

On a brighter note, my niece and I met up for coffee after work, joined by my brother (her dad) who is up on business. We ate Vietnamese food at Trinity Kitchen, talked and laughed a lot, and hugged each other hello and goodbye. Turns out that kind of thing does you the world of good.

x