Roll of the Dice 🎲

How often do you think? This may be the last time. Hardly ever when young but increasingly as the years go by.
Most things have a predictable life; a holiday, a rose, even a rock of granite. But the shock of sudden loss is the most difficult.
I had no inkling that the glimpse in the rear view mirror would be the last of my father.
Who’d have guessed that the bottle of bubbly shared with two best friends atop Primrose Hill - we now fondly remember as a valedictory toast - cruelly murdered shortly after on the North Tower's 106th floor?