9 pm - Saturday February 10th 2007

Today my father died.

I was lying naked in bed around 3:30 pm in the afternoon after a shower when I recognized the "Unavailable No." on my caller ID. My Mum was so calm when she said "Roy died this morning". I didn't know what to say, but nothing could stop the terrible feeling welling up inside my chest. Everything had been so normal over the last few days, I had talked with them both on their Saturday afternoon and on Sunday morning he was gone.

On Monday evening I had been feeling down, and so I had called home. Mum had been working, but Dad was home and we talked for a while. I told him about my plans to drive across the Nullabor Plain from Perth to Sydney. He thought that was a good idea, and he positively encouraged me to spend some time in Tokyo on the way back home. I guess Mum must have mentioned how I was wanting to learning Japanese, because we talked about how it would be smart to start up a collaboration there so that I could spend time there on holiday.

I had always tried to be close to him, and after my transition I always did my best to reconcile with him. I know he didn't really understand my reasons, but everything my Mum told me indicated that he was proud of me. In many ways I fled to America to prevent the stares and gossip from hurting my family. From far away it was comforting to always hear my Mum tell me "Everything is just the same as always here", and to know that I could always escape back to the hills and valleys that spoke of home and security and comfort.

My grandparents all died when I was very young, and I never knew them. I should have known that the specter of loss lurked ever present, and yet I always hoped that I would be spared the anguish of it all. No longer...

I'll miss my Dad's quiet presence, his enjoyment of the natural world's beauty, his occasional stories and his unspoken support.

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