In memory of Steve Irwin

When I first heard about the death of Steve Irwin, I kept quite. I remember dad told me he was dead a few months ago, eaten alive by a crocodile he attempted for the public. What a shame for me to believe that – Crikey!

Now that I know the news was not real, I undergo more of distress than comfort. Strangely, it is at times like this when you would rather not know the truth, because the truth brings along painful realization.

Whenever the crocodile hunter puts on a show for the public, whenever we enjoy the adrenaline rushing through ourselves on the television - is when the animals feel distress and agitated.

Perhaps now the animals are weeping solemnly among us. With only one difference in line – while we weep with desperation for the loss of a hero; they weep with recognition for the revenge of their mates.