Fast forward to today and I realise I fully took for granted the roles and responsibilities my dad had.
The simple things that he used to do that someone now has to pick up.
Now that he's gone, we find ourselves stepping into these roles and really appreciating things that he did.
Even small contributions seem huge when he's no longer around to make sure they are well looked after.
This week for instance, as I type these words, my whānau are farewelling my beautiful cousin at her tangihanga.
These are times I really miss my dad for what he would contribute, his wisdom to navigate uncomfortable conversations and the ease that he would make a stressful and depressing time almost fun, almost a pleasure.
This concept of Raukotahi, the idea that we are a culmination of our ancestors, those who contribute to us in the present, and that we will be part of those who come after us, is really comforting at this time.
To know that we have everything we need in our DNA to guide us is very refreshing.
Dad was a hard case fulla, no doubt. If you know my siblings and I, then you know what I mean.
Laughter at the most inappropriate times. Mocking each other for anything at all. Never giving a straight answer. These are all things that will live through our DNA for time immemorial.
He passed on a lot of things. Some good, some questionable, but everything vital for the perfect recipe that makes us who we are today.
I really wanted to share some of the things our dad passed down to us through our lives.
Here are some snippets of things he taught me growing up. He didn't always say these things with words. Most of the time he said these things through actions.
When he was in the army, for Xmas, he gave my brother and I toy guns. Of course I pointed it at him and pulled the trigger.
That day he told me never to point a gun at someone unless you intended to kill them (in his best commando voice).
Stand when you shake a man's hand. Firm grip and look him in the eye. In case of Hongi, do the Whanganui double-tap.
Share without expectation. Be generous. If you can help, help. If you can give, give.
Pull over if you see someone broken down.
Intervene if you see someone being hurt.
Pay your respects when someone dies. But look after the living first.
Go with the flow and don't sweat the small stuff.
Don't hit your brother (he said that more than once).
Don't skite. There will always be someone who has less than you, don't rub it in.
Don't let anyone push you around.
Losing well is better than winning like an egg.
Tackle around the legs.
Make your bed.
Don't pet strange dogs (while sitting in hospital after being bitten by a poodle).
It's a small collection of all the lessons he taught, not only us, but anyone within
earshot at the time.
It's no Tony Robbins bestseller. But these small lessons are gold to me now. They have made me who I am. He's in my DNA and in my here and now. He is part of my Raukotahi.
One of the last conversations he had with our kids went like this: "Life is too short for drama. We don't have time for that. We need to appreciate each other, here and now. So leave the drama behind. Love each other because we never know when our time might be up."
Figure out fast who is most important in your life and take care of them.
Love and allow yourself to be loved.
