How many times did we watch our daughter walk through those gates, often holding the hand of a smiling female airline rep, waving back excitedly, ready to meet granddad at the other end. Other times, trying to catch a last look of her somewhere in a group of friends and sometimes, just her back slowly walking away, not turning because she is crying. 

I don't sleep when she is in the air, never have. And I know we will watch her walking through those gates again and again.

So much of our happiness and sanity as a family, as parents, depends on travelling, flying across vast continents, crossing time zones, feeling safe inside a pod made of aluminium and fairy dust.

I don't dare imagine the grief and the anger. I know it could be ours.