Dear Dad

When I was little, after four boys, you probably weren’t quite sure what to do with a daughter, but you loved me so completely and wholeheartedly that I never once felt out of place. I was your girl, and I knew it.

You taught me so much, not just how to build a motor or pop out a bumper dent, but how to see the world. I still remember that day in the park when you showed me how to take a photo that made me look as tall as the building. But when I tried to do it with you, you looked so tiny. We laughed so hard. That was your magic, turning every ordinary moment into something extraordinary.

You taught me how to process my own photos in our makeshift attic darkroom, which you turned into a bedroom when the boys got too big to share. You built so much with your hands, our shed, the garden walls, Mum’s painting shack, our home… but more than that, you built the life we all stood on. Every story, every Saturday morning fry-up, every cheeky joke (some of which weren’t G-rated), every laugh that made your eyes crinkle and your shoulders shake, it’s all part of the foundation you gave us.

You were the cornerstone of our family. You accepted me for who I am and gave me the strength to be her out in the world. Your love is stitched into the fabric of who I’ve become.

If you're tired now, it's okay to rest. You've built so much, carried so much. And your legacy, it’s already alive in all of us. I will carry you with me in every story I tell, in every photo I take, and every time I laugh loud and unfiltered. I love you so deeply, Dad. And I always will.