Nine years ago, but it feels like yesterday, I nervously rushed back to my desk to return the many missed calls from my Mum. “Aaron, your Mum has been trying to call you. It’s an emergency.” What my Mum told me was the most shocking and heart-wrenching news. But I recall feeling numb as I grabbed my bag and left the office, almost like nothing happened. Mum called back 5 minutes later. “Are you okay?” Only then, as I walked alone across Driver Avenue in Moore Park did it start to hit me. My Dad was gone. Do his brothers and sisters know? Does his Mum know? Do my brothers know? What do I tell my 2-year-old son next time he asks for the man he called Gan-Gan because he was too young to master the word Grandad? Do we drive down to Nowra tonight to be with family? My wife is in the middle of IVF treatment, how do I tell her? Seeing a different relative every day and having that sinking feeling was almost like being tortured. But what about Dad? How did he feel? How did it get to a point where he felt the only way out was to leave the people he loved most? That’s what makes me the saddest. To try and put myself in his shoes and the pain he must have been feeling, to be able to end it all despite everything he loved being left behind. Things must have been bad. To put it all into perspective, for nearly 10 years my Dad had an undiagnosed illness that would constantly make him physically sick. If he was lucky, he would get a day or two where he felt normal. He would see a new doctor or naturopath and there was hope he would come good. But he never did. One good day turned into two bad weeks and several emergency hospital visits because he just couldn’t stop vomiting. But there was more to his illness than the physical aspect. He was struggling with the unwanted opinions of strangers who were judging him. My Dad came out as gay in 2012. For a lifetime he disguised his true self because of the fear of being abandoned by his own parents, family and friends. It was the Gay Marriage vote in 2017 that drew the last straw. Not only was he still physically sick almost every day, but mentally he had to listen to these strangers judge him on the news and all over social media when they knew nothing about him. What must have been going through his head to want to leave us all? It’s something I think about a lot. Was he thinking of all of us when he decided it was time. Did he plan to write a letter but he was just in too much pain. We know he had tried before. But what was different this time? Maybe he was at peace with where everyone was at in their lives or maybe the world is just too cruel and he simply couldn’t take it anymore. I always try and remember the amazing times we all had with him. The countless breathless cackles as he threw out a crude one-liner. The amount of smiles he brought to us and everyone around him will always remain as my core memories of him. I just wish he said goodbye. I just wish Christmas and all of those family events still included him. I just wish our kids got to experience his infectious personality. But most of all I wish he knew how much we loved him. Again, it’s the time of year where I find a way to remember him through growing a dirty moustache like his. But more importantly, raising funds and awareness for mental health. This year, I’ll still grow the mo. I’ll still be running 5km every day. But in an attempt to feel closer to Dad, I’ll be reading his favourite book - I’m not a book reader. Be that person someone can talk to. But more importantly, hug the ones closest to you that little bit tighter tonight.