Emily Scolyer feels overwhelming gratitude for the 22 years of unwavering love and support she had from her father, Richard Scolyer. The cancer researcher and former Australian of the Year died in June after a courageous battle with glioblastoma.
Emily says her father made every moment magical, and she is aspiring to carry on his love of family, nature and connection.
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These are Emily's words.
He made ordinary moments special
Dad was just the most present father, despite his busy professional career as a pathologist.
He was still there for our family activities and to support me and my siblings.
He taught me how to swim.
He taught me how to ride a bike.
We would spend hours out at the wave pool at Ryde Aquatic.
When I was 7, he started waking up at 5am to take me to swimming training three or four times a week.
He would come and watch all of my ballet concerts, swimming carnivals, athletics, cross country, everything that we were doing.
Looking back, I don't even know how he found the time.
Even in the teenage years when you're fighting with your parents a little bit, he still always showed up for me and always told me that he was proud of me regardless.
Every moment was special, regardless of what we were doing, even if we were just sitting in silence.
Being present with the people you love was a really important lesson he taught me growing up.
He made every moment we spent together magical and he was all the qualities that I aspire to be.
Dad got up every day with a smile on his face
Dad had his first seizure when he was overseas in Poland in 2023.
He and Mum were there for a conference.
They went hiking with some of their friends and when they came back down the mountain he had a seizure. They think that this was because the altitude caused his brain to swell.
So, in that way, it was a little bit lucky because if he hadn't done that hike, perhaps we wouldn't have known about the brain tumour as early on as we did.
Dad called me and my siblings from the hospital to tell us about the glioblastoma diagnosis, and I just remember he sounded very defeated, which I've never really heard him sound before.
We cried together and then moved into problem-solving and treatment mode.
It's just amazing to me that having such a devastating diagnosis, he was able to harness that and turn it into something positive and be a source of light for other people going through similar journeys.
He still got up every day, and he had a smile on his face, and he did the things that he loved the most, which was running and cycling and doing triathlons and being out in nature.
It was just an amazing thing to watch his resilience every day, right up until he passed away on June 7th this year.
He taught me everything about love
I've heard it said that grief is like a rock you carry with you in your pocket.
It starts as a large, jagged boulder, constantly piercing your side, but with time, the sharp edges wear down, and it becomes smoother and easier to carry with you.
Right now, my grief feels like that jagged boulder, but I like the idea that it eventually becomes this sort of positive touchstone rather than something very painful.
I feel so lucky to have had him as my dad.
And he showed me what it means to be reliable and show up for the people you love as well.
Sharing stories of him will be one of the ways that we mark this Father's Day.
We're planning on spending it together as a family, spending time outdoors in nature and with our dog Cha Cha as well, who dad loved.
Dad's favourite moments were always when we were together.
And I try to stay connected to him by doing the things that he loved.
I'm running, I'm swimming, I'm doing parkrun.
I'll always treasure every single moment we spent together and I know he did too.
Everything that he's done for me throughout my 22 years of life — every time we shared a smile or a hug — it's never enough, you always want more, but he definitely gave me enough to last a lifetime.
