Erin Molan: Don’t forget your dad as I’ll never forget mine

Facing her first Father’s Day without her Dad, Jim, Erin Molan pays tribute to the former soldier and senator, and urges everyone to reach out to their own Dad this weekend.

In some cultures they believe that you die twice — once when you take your last breath and again when people stop talking about you.

I’m determined that my Dad, the former Senator Jim Molan, will only ever die once.

Not because our family think we are special, but because dad was.

In so many ways, so many more ways than people realised, ways that we shall talk about forever.

Sunday is Father’s Day and it will be our family’s first without him. I’m not going to pretend that we all took it very seriously every year and made a big deal out of it, we didn’t.

Dad joked he needed his laptop diary to look up our birthdays. We weren’t big on sentiment but we were big on each other.

It’s actually the day-to-day stuff that’s hardest without him here, rather than the birthdays or special occasions.

Columnist Erin Molan with her dad, former senator Jim Molan.

When I want to call him about an article I’ve just read, or a text I’ve just received, or when my daughter does something cute (daily, of course). That’s when I miss him the most.

When I see other people with their dads, when I see kids Eliza’s age (5) with their grandparents, when I see people much older than dad living their best lives. That’s when it really stings.

The pressures of daily living can camouflage the priority of really appreciating something or someone when you have them, it’s almost easier to do when they’re gone.

I can honestly say that we all appreciated dad most of the time. There was something so special and so rare about him.

He was a vibrant presence, a big, imposing, strong man, a soldier’s soldier, who was always alongside his troops. He’d never ask them to do anything he wasn’t willing to do himself. They used to call him ‘drugs Molan’ at 6RAR after he doubled the length of their pack march to 80km. He was tougher than anyone else I ever knew and he motivated, encouraged and admired that of people around him.

In Iraq he’d sleep only a couple of hours a night. He was there for a year as Chief of Operations for the Allied Forces.

Jim Molan was an inspiration to many. Picture: Jonathan Ng

He was physically courageous but more so morally — the hours he spent analysing every proposed coalition military action before determining whether it complied with the laws of armed conflict, and then approving or prohibiting it.

He cared about people. War wasn’t about fighting and killing for dad, it was about saving lives. It was about defending the right values and fighting for freedom and democracy.

As a soldier he accompanied five different countries down their road to democracy. An incredible achievement and one that inspired his foray into politics.

Dad had this remarkable ability to inspire people, to talk sense and to always show respect. Even if he thought your point of view was utterly ridiculous he’d never berate or belittle.

He was as warm and genuine as he was determined. He was a man of conviction but able to admit fault when required and was always open to being convinced there was a better way. He’s the most voted for individual in Australian political history. That’s no mean feat.

For many people this weekend will be challenging. Some may have never met their dad, some may have strained relationships.

Some, like our family, will have lost their fathers recently, but for those of you not in this camp then please allow me some self-indulgence, a bit of advice.

Nobody is perfect. My dad wasn’t but he was as close as it gets in my eyes.

Regardless of your own journey with your father, may I suggest you make Sunday special, if possible.

Treasure your dad. Reach out if it’s been a while. Pick up the phone. Surprise him in person. Whatever you can do.

Life is fleeting, all we have now are memories. It’s too early to derive any comfort from them. As anyone in our situation will tell you, they are raw, distressing and brutal.

I hope that will lessen in time. What I wouldn’t give for one more hug, one more call, I’d even take a text. What I wouldn’t give to watch my daughter climb onto her “Jimmy’s” knee one more time and read a book or play a game.

I’d give anything to have him back, even for a moment, so if you’ve still got your dad please use our pain as the catalyst to somehow, somewhere, genuinely express your feelings for him.

Dad, I still haven’t figured out how to talk to you. It doesn’t feel real in my head.

Your study is still littered with thousands of notes, storage drives, cords and devices, so maybe you’re still riveted to a news screen up there in heaven?

If you are reading this, we are still broken without you and lost, but we are all trying, I promise. We miss you so much and love you so much.

We helped raise $1.5 million for prostate cancer research last week in your honour too, and you won a UNSW award on Monday evening as well.

Eliza says “Nini Jimmy” most nights, not sure if you can hear us but she’s so big now and I promise she will know and love her grandpa for the rest of her life.

Happy Father’s Day Dad, to you and all the dads, both here and wherever you might be now.