I love you, Dad.

Ten months is all it took. From the day you submitted your application to adopt a baby girl, to the moment you received the phone call from the hospital notifying you that I was ready to be picked up and taken home, amazed at how fast the time went, somewhat unprepared for the arrival of your blue-eyed, blonde-haired baby girl.

After my big brother Jason was born you wanted a girl, and I am forever grateful for being the chosen one. When I was discharged from my humidicrib – fitting neatly into the palm of your hand at a healthy weight of 2.5kg – and handed to Valerie on the sidewalk with the name ‘Baby Beachley’, the warmth and tenderness of your touch made me feel nurtured, loved and alive.

Being a premature baby must have signified my impetuous nature, always in a hurry to be living, exploring, discovering and experiencing new and exciting adventures. Fortunately you allowed me to live my life, never interfering or questioning my judgment, always encouraging me to get up, stand up and never give up.

Thank you for fostering resilience not reliance, through allowing me the freedom to fail in relationships, at school, in business and in sport. Thank you for teaching me valuable lessons in personal accountability through leading by example and for always being honest with your feedback and life advice. We all make mistakes and they are all learning opportunities. Thank you for disciplining me when I disobeyed your rules, teaching me the importance of respecting boundaries and acting responsibly.

My most cherished memories of you will always be the early morning skateboard ride to the beach on the weekends. You were such an amazing runner, towing me with a towel while I held on and skated behind you, wind in my long blonde hair, sun shining on my face, and sheer delight in my 6-year-old heart. This was my treasured uninterrupted dad and daughter time. The 20 kilometre return trip was always punctuated with a swim in front of Manly Surf Club after you ran the length of Manly beach, completed with a freshly baked chocolate-topped cupcake from our favourite bakery before the long, predominantly uphill ride home.

Today, at 77 years of age, you still rise before dawn to perform your morning ritual of a soft sand shuffle to Queenscliff and back from South Steyne, and I am incredibly proud of your discipline and commitment to this daily practice.

You have done an exceptional job of raising three beautiful, successful and resilient children, while overcoming the tragic loss of two loving wives, watching them both fade away before your very eyes. Your ability to overcome such adversity and live a full life is remarkable and truly inspiring.

Words fail to articulate how much I love you. How grateful I am to you. Thank you for being my pillar of strength and unconditional support. You have been and always will be my rock.

I love you, Dad.