Between the threads

“That was pretty much half his uniform. The singlet was under his shirt. He had white ones for his more important shirts and then when he came home that was the singlet he walked around in the yard or did stuff in the garage. It was only after he was gone that it was important, I think.

“He had his first heart attack when I was eight, and that was the first time I had to do CPR on my dad.”

He had his first heart attack when I was eight, and that was the first time I had to do CPR on my dad. When I was twenty-one, he arrested again, and again [I] intervened. Then when I was twenty-four, he was on holidays with mum and arrested again. The day that he did die, I actually spoke to him on the phone in the morning. It was Mum and Dads’ twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, and I was hanging s--t on him because their wedding anniversary was four days before my birthday. So, I was hanging s--t on him about being away and not being there for my birthday. You know, ‘You always do something good for my birthday – what’s your plan, old man?’ And he was like, ‘Don’t worry, it’s all good. I’ve got it sorted.’ And then the way it worked in Western Australia, there was a public holiday. So, they actually had to have the funeral four days later, which was my birthday. We were staying at my uncle’s house, and just because Dad died in Western Australia and the majority of our networks were in Queensland, it was just Interflora after Interflora after Interflora of flowers coming on my birthday. I was like, well, that’s one way to organise big because he always did give me flowers on my birthday. So that was the big final flourish of flowers. 

”And I mean, look at it. It’s got a hole in it. It’s threadbare. It’s not going to get worn by anybody else, really.”

When you pack up all your dad’s stuff after, it’s hard. I kept a couple of pieces of his clothing. It was just one of those things that was so associated with him that you can’t send that to Lifeline. So, it was one of the things I’d commandeered. And I mean, look at it. It’s got a hole in it. It’s threadbare. It’s not going to get worn by anybody else, really. He would be like, ‘This is what you should be washing the car with now. This is not what you wear anymore.’ He would have chopped it up and turned it into rags to clean his hands in the garage or something, so he’d probably be mortified that I’m wearing it. But to me, it’s perfect. I think every little stretch, every little stain, every little pulled thread is part of Dad’s story and my story with him now. So if I kind of feel like I need that little bit of ‘Dad’s got my back’ or just that comfortable memory of him being around me, I guess when you’re wearing that piece of clothing, it’s almost like you’re getting that hug. Yeah.”

- Lisa, 49