Phillip Hughes was built like a needle, went like a sewing machine.

His death is still raw, emotions still run high, but there's no dispute he'd want his teammates during the next month to play in the same aggressive manner as he did.

Grief is different to tribute, and how Cricket Australia officials delicately balance both during the summer will be critical in accepting this tragedy. They haven't put as much as a toenail out of place so far.

Before the first ball in Adelaide, players from both teams will take their place around a large "408" - the baggy green cap number of the late batsman - painted on the outfield at Adelaide Oval.

Then spectators will be asked to stand for 63 seconds of applause, a reference to the score Hughes was on during a Sheffield Shield match at the SCG before a bouncer claimed his life. Hughes has been named as Australia's 13th man for the match. His Test number has been embroidered on their shirts.

It all seems entirely appropriate given the enormity of what's happened in the past fortnight, but at what point is it time to move on?

After the first ball in Adelaide? The final ball in Sydney? After the one-day World Cup? Never?

Nobody should tell someone how to grieve. There certainly isn't a handbook about how to get through it. Australian players can honour their late mate for as long as they need or want. Some may never get over it.

Yet there is already a concern that honouring Hughes could veer into tokenism if the point is laboured too much. It could also be disrespectful to his heartbroken family, who now should be afforded the time to privately grieve.

The media is already copping it amid claims that others in death have not been given the same blanket coverage as Hughes. Which, of course, is simplistic and inane. No life is worth more than another. They are not judged in terms of column inches or minutes of air-time.

But media coverage comes down to news value and public interest, and on that score Hughes' death has almost been unprecedented. Certainly, in terms of an Australian sportsperson.

Few can quite put their finger on why. That cricket is the national pastime, played by thousands of junior players, explains much of it.

But his death continues to connect with people with no interest in the game, or sport.

A reminder of that came on Saturday night, at somewhere as unexpected as the Newtown Hotel in Sydney's inner-west. As the crowd of grungers, goths and gays elbowed their way to the bar, it was impossible not to notice the cricket bat sitting on the shelf behind the busy staff.

At what point, though, is it time to let the lavish tributes to Hughes calm down, with the focus returning to the contest between bat and ball? Tuesday morning's tribute should be a watershed moment, which shouldn't be repeated in Brisbane or Melbourne.

NSW Premier Mike Baird on Monday announced, after consulting Hughes' family and CA, that the planned state memorial service had been cancelled.

Officials at the SCG, where Hughes lost his life, are already trying to find the appropriate way to honour him when the final Test of the series is played there from January 6. In simplicity comes class.

Bravely, the Australian cricket team is leading the way. Few of them appeared as emotional at Hughes' funeral service in Macksville as Mitchell Johnson. He's become the cliché about whether cricket will change forever because of the Hughes incident.

If fast bowlers are cautious about bowling short, what does it mean for intimidatory expressmen like Johnson? Without the right amount of chin music, Johnson may as well be playing no tune at all.

So it was a relief to hear these words from him on the eve of the Test on Tuesday: "We have got to play the way we have been playing. That is being aggressive. That's the way I have always played the game. I know our boys will be out there playing the best cricket we can. If that is bowling the short ball like we have been then that is what we will do."

In other words, getting on with it, as best they can.