Dear Mr Hockey

Dear Mr Hockey

Today is my father’s birthday. A lovely event I imagine you thinking.

Except my dad is no longer here to celebrate with us. In years past, Christmas was a triple barrel season for my family – my parents’ wedding anniversary, my dad’s birthday, our family Christmas.

They’re probably the same celebrations you love sharing with your own family.

When you’ve not lost a parent, it’s pretty difficult to comprehend the meaning of that loss for those who have. Especially on birthdays, anniversaries and Christmas. But incomprehension can be tempered by grace and thoughtfulness.

When my mother faced her first Christmas season without my father in 57 years, all she wanted was the quiet reassurance of her children’s presence to hold memories dear and give comfort throughout those days.

Moira Gillard would no doubt want the same comfort from her daughters this coming week. Your mother, I’m sure, would want it if placed in the same circumstance.

Mrs Gillard has had a year from hell – bereavement exacerbated by by repeated insults of her  loss from your friends and allies by attacking her daughter. And then this:

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And this:

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I hope your mother never sees these tweets. She’d wonder what’s become of you. And wonder about the company you now keep. And hope that, should she be widowed, your political opponents offer you the grace and consideration in your family’s bereavement that you and your ilk deny the Gillards.

Merry Christmas.

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