As I am writing this, I am looking over at my bookcase shelf.

I have one in the middle that is very special to me. You wouldn’t know looking at it, it is pretty dishevelled, but it means something to me. There amongst the cover of dust are my special mementos. Pride of place is a faded nativity scene stuck on a bunch of paddle pop sticks that my youngest boy made and gave me many years ago when I was fighting to have some sort of contact with him.

There is a sign that says ‘DAD, Love you to the moon and back’, given to me by my youngest daughter years ago. A photo of my boys when they were younger and happier when the marriage still had meaning. A faded photo of my young boy and a friend sitting on Santa’s knee back in 2002, he looks happy, but I was right in the middle of fighting for justice way back then. A faded photo of fostered me as a toddler sitting on my new sister’s knee.

A small chest full of coins and little rocks and shells, mementos given to me by my little children many years ago. My Father’s old watch given to me before his passing, His prayer books and St Christopher medal, a few small photos of him and mum, they adopted me when I was 14. Leaving it for all those years, for me to decide. RIP

I have collected many rocks over the years, which I like to hand out to my lifesavers to use within their groups. They are very special to me. And then there are lots of little gifts, small things given to me over the years from my kids who won’t even remember giving them, but to me, they are special.

Below it are more photos of my young ones in happier times, even older ones as they grew and I thought we were family once again, only for time to steal it all away. But I have the memories even if I don’t hear their voices anymore.

There is a CD Four Corners, Costing The Children a reminder of the fight, my main rock that I used to start the sharing of Men’s stories in the beginning of Dads in Distress.

A crumpled note I must have written years ago, ‘Trust, is the souls drug of choice’. I think that is true. Although I don’t remember when I wrote it. And then there is the most important part of my shelf apart from my Bible and that is those funeral notices. I have them there so I can see their faces and remember them. Those that I didn’t attend are still in my heart and in my memory forever and I think it is important to not forget them. So I mention their names in talking to the Bigfella every day and ask that He rests their souls. Most were friends, some were enemies, it doesn’t matter now.

Here are the people I have on my shelf, remember them with kindness and never forget them.

• Reginald Vincent Miller
• Lorna Joyce Miller
• Barry Colin Williams
• Edward Gregory Dabrowski
• Scott Burgess
• Mac Werner
• Kelly Amy Storer
• Erich Muschka Schulz
• Ben Frager
• Ian McIntyre
• Jimmy Trefillis
• Kevin Gale
• Doug McKenzie
• Robert Patrick Druhan
• Mavis Rose Thick
• Ted Thick
• Ollie and Walter Storey
• Dot Storey
• Blokie and Grace Storey
• Gail Storey
• Billie
• Edna and Dudley Powell
• Peter Bridgeman

And, let’s say the unknown soldiers, those that passed unbeknownst to us, either by their own hand or otherwise.

The young girl who went back to her once family home, now for sale, and set it on fire after locking herself in.

Or the young 16 year old boy who walked out in front of a truck here after breaking up with his girlfriend, or another just recently, a 17 year old boy down the coast who hung himself after breaking up with his girlfriend. Rest their souls.

There are lots more but this is just a story about my shelf. A breeze blows in and lifts the dust to the air and just blows it away, just like our lives. We are here one minute and gone the next. All we can ask is be remembered as something or someone of use. Especially to our children.

That’s my story

Tony Miller OAM