Walking into the kitchen, I gave my little brother Dylan a squeeze.
‘Right on time!’ I smiled.
It was a Sunday afternoon in December 2019, and we were having our weekly dinner at our mum Tina’s house.
We’d always been close.
Now grown up with kids of our own, we’d never go a day without a phone call or text.
Dylan, 26, watched my daughter’s pageants, coached my son’s sports team.
He often brought his son Bailer, then 2, over for visits too.
‘Mitch not with you today?’ Mum asked.
‘Not today,’ he answered, pulling out a chair.
Mitchell Shumpert was Dylan’s housemate,