Tsunami, trekking and text messages

Eight years ago I was lucky enough to be enjoying a holiday of a lifetime in South East Asia. My husband and I had planned the holiday meticulously and it had been over a year in the making. A visit to Hong Kong, Singapore and Borneo were on the cards. Whilst we were there however, the trip of our dreams was a trip that we would remember forever for reasons other than the sights. Eight years ago today something terrible happened that changed areas of South East Asia and the lives of over a million people forever. The day of the Tsunami, we had travelled inland to the heart of the Bornean jungle. We were spending a night in a longhouse followed by a jungle trek (more of a nature walk if I'm truly honest). The weather was appalling and as we kayaked down a river, our guide commented on how the water level was much higher than when he had been there the previous week and there hadn't been so much rain to warrant it. We didn't take much notice of it really and concentrated on not capsizing. Not having any phones or anything other than essentials was bliss and on our return to the coast we mourned our return to civilisation. 
When we arrived at our hotel the mood was sombre and it seemed like there was no one around. We went straight to our room to shower and in the course of reintegrating we turned on our phones. There were 62 text messages waiting for me! Slightly astounded I started to read them
"Please call re earthquake" Dad
"Please call re earthquake and tidal wave" Dad
"Haven't heard from you... Are you ok? Please call or text Dad
"Hi mate, been watching news and hoping your'e both ok" Chris
" News here terrible. Do me a favour and call home" Angela
"Deb- Please call, travel agent and foreign office not telling us anything" Ben
" I'm telling your dad not to worry, but it would help if you could call us' Lauren
And they went on. It wasn't until we turned on CNN that we realised what all the messages were from. Whilst we were trekking in the jungle a massive earthquake and consequent tidal wave had hit South East Asia and had spread as far as Sri Lanka and the Maldives. When we first heard about it ten thousand were estimated to have been killed. Within days, these figures had risen to an astonishing one hundred and twenty five thousand deaths and then to a quarter of a million. These people were not just from Asia but were from the UK, USA, Scandinavia  Australia, Canada and all over the world. People who were backpackers, tourists staying in luxury hotels, waiters, beach hawkers, sailors killed by the biggest natural disaster in history. We stayed in Asia for ten days after the Tsunami. We donated to the Malaysian Relief fund and like everyone else in our resort remained slightly dumbstruck at the results that unfolded.
As each Boxing Day passes, I remember the tsunami that claimed the lives of so many, I remember the panic and relief of my dad when I spoke to him and remember those who never received that phone call. Eight years on, My dad still calls me every day at 8.15pm. Sometimes we speak for under a minute, sometimes we speak for five minutes. The general gist of the conversation (we generally don't have that much news) is are you OK? Are the boys Ok? Good, speak to you tomorrow. Sometimes it drives me crazy because I really don't have anything to tell him! But today of all days I'll be glad to get that call, knowing that for so many, today is the anniversary of the day that the phone call never came.