Sorry

I had an Aboriginal 'uncle'.

As a young mother, my grandmother responded to a call at her church to take in indigenous children 'whose families couldn't look after them'. She had five children of her own but thought it was the right thing to do.

I never really thought about it much as a kid. I remember Uncle B trying to find his people, that he knew they were somewhere along the Murray; but he never did find them.

He died, in his early fifties, of 'natural causes' when I was a teenager.

I can't remember ever having tears in my eyes listening to a politician speak before. I feel a part of something huge today.