There are a myriad of reasons my Dad, Bill Gibson, was a special person and an awesome father to my four siblings and I. A product of a private boys’ school education in the demonstrably conservative Australia of the 1950s, Bill was to think deeply and comprehensively on issues of supreme importance. Ahead of his peers in this life, Bill was to somberly contemplate and galvanise others to embrace the notion of Aboriginal rights in this country, pertaining to colonisation, and also grabbed hold of and never let go of the great dream of Australia finally becoming a republic. 

Wise beyond reproach, Dad was a classy, gentle soul who was interested in and willing to help others with their problems, no matter what. He had time for people from all walks of life, nationalities and demographics. For instance, helping out at Meals on Wheels was something he enjoyed, igniting respectful conversations with the elderly often forgotten by the ‘outside world’. Importantly, as a father, Dad always had time for his children, was a joy to have a meaningful conversation with, or a much lauded and jubliant outing with. Dad’s great love of the movies and arts was second to none. I still remember fondly him taking my sister, Megan, and I to see the Superman movie when I was twelve in 1979. Movies to Dad were magic. Dad also (along with my mother, Estelle) had a great love affair with the Australian landscape and creatures. Immeasurable moments were spent camping in ‘the bush’, hiking convoluted trails through forests and plains and ascending serene mountains with Dad, Mum, my siblings and I.

I still recall Dad’s awe of seeing a wedge-tailed eagle in majestic flight.

Here’s to you Dad. You are forever thought of fondly and with love and so terribly missed. Thank you forever for being my Dad.