One of the loveliest people I've ever known and had the honour of calling my friend died yesterday. Her name was Dorothea Nissen Phillips; Dea to most of us who loved her. It happened while she was away on a cruise holiday to South America with her husband Fred; travel was one of her great passions.

Typical of the Internet age, I found out this morning when I woke up and saw a text message from my daughter on my iPhone: Aunt Dea died. I've heard people use the word shattered to describe how they felt and always thought it was an overly dramatic claim but the moment I looked at that short message, something inside me shattered.

I'd known Dea for over 40 years; since we were 19 years old. Our lives intertwined in myriad ways over those years. She loved and cared for my children as if they were her own and I in turn loved and cared for hers. We had an endless series of madcap adventures, shared secrets, and shared interests.

I've spent today remembering her, thinking about her daughters Tavie and Kirsten, thinking about Fred, and talking with my own children who are in shock at the loss, reminiscing about the good times we had.

Dea, I miss you so much already.