On Facebook, one of Dad's ex students is putting up photos from WAAPA - 'the early years.' She just put up one of the iconic images of my father. It made me think about this blog. I started reading it for the first time since it was written. It's a strange document of life and death which includes a travel tips, family memories and euolgies. I am not sure really what to do with it.

As a family, we miss him dearly. I am constantly surprised when I meet people for the first time who hug me and tell me that my father change their lives. He certainly changed ours - constantly. I remember when he decided to take us to live in America. I was 11 years old. Attending a convent school, I had ten other girls in my year who I had know since I was 7. They were my world. The day dad came to pick me up from school to take me away, my dear friends hid me in a cupboard thinking if he didn't find me that I could live there happily for the next two years. The ensuing struggle included me holding onto door frames and chairs and my friends and dad dragging me down wailing to the car. I think back now and wonder how he must have felt - taking us away from all we knew into the great unknown - I think he would have felt elation. He loved adventures and we should too - whether we liked them or not.