Some say that the transgender woman who was my Dad will always be my father. There is no truth in this for meTwenty one years ago I lost my father. The hardest share of losing him is that he didn’t die. One day he walked out the door and never returned. Sometimes I allow myself to suppose how much easier it would have been if he had have died. My grief would have welled to the surface and exploded out. Instead,I carry my grief with me every day. Twenty one years ago my father became the woman he believed he should always have been. I recall my initial response to be “you mean Dad’s gonna wear a dress? It’s easy to forget that at this point I was 16 years used, in my final year of high school and living on the outskirts of Brisbane. Continue reading...
Source: theguardian.com