Adam Obren

And my appreciation for transgender people is stronger than ever. Whenever I meet such a person, it's like seeing my Dad again. The more I learn, the more I want to do whatever I can to support trans folk, and be a rock for them like Dad was for me.

www.mnd.org.au/my-fundraisi...

For me, this is a way to honour her life and memory, and help to combat this devastating condition. I've created a fundraising page called "Vicky's Legacy". I'm going to try to raise $500, which may not be much, but it will be at least a small contribution which will make a difference.

On Sunday, 26 October 2025, MND Victoria will be holding a Walk to Support in Pakenham, Victoria. They have been amazing to my father and our family, and they do fantastic work. It's taken a while, but I'm participating in a fundraising walk for MND research and support, for the first time ever.

I wish it had understood earlier that Dad was not a bulletproof superhero, but flesh and blood who experienced fear, rejection, uncertainty and despair. Yet she always clung to hope, she always gave everything she had for us, and she was brave to the very end.

I wish I had a time machine, so I could go back and be as supportive as possible from the first day Dad revealed who she really was. I wish it hadn't taken me so long to understand that Dad had needs as much as anyone in our family.

In November, Dad had to stay in hospital under the constant care of medical staff. In December, she completely lost her ability to speak and was on a ventilator. A week after Christmas, she passed away from suffocation.

It wasn't until October, when Dad was using a wheelchair, that we finally learned that Dad's affliction was motor neurone disease, and that she was going to die. Dad was devastated, and so were my daughters, my mother, my sister and I. I don't honestly know how my brother took the news.

Her car had a serious breakdown, which turned out to be timely as she would not have able to drive for much longer. So I became my parents' driver, and juggled that with working my full-time job.

As the year progressed, Dad ditched her cane for a walker. Her words started to slur. She experienced more difficulty in sitting down and getting up. Dad was going to multiple medical appointments to try to find out what was going on, but a definitive diagnosis was elusive.

Dad had become Mum's carer, but Dad's own health was deteriorating rapidly. Yet Dad remained supportive and steadfast as ever, and helped in any way that she could.

I had kept my parents in the loop during this entire period, although Mum was now suffering from Alzheimer's. Dad asked, with extreme humility, if they could move in with me, and I was very happy to have them and finally give a little bit back.

In January of 2022, my wife and I separated, and I moved all my stuff out of our home. By this time Dad was using a cane, though was still driving. I was having anxiety attacks because I was terrified I was going to lose access to my daughters.

Years later, my brother would go on to marry a conservative religious woman, who Dad attempted to befriend only to be ignored or treated indifferently. I can only imagine the disappointment and hurt Dad must have experienced not having had the same unconditional support she had always provided us.

My brother and sister fared even worse. My sister was angry at Dad for being "selfish" and not thinking about Mum and the rest of us. My brother, who was very right-wing, was disgusted and referred to Dad behind her back as "this thing that Dad has become."

It all felt so surreal and contrary to the image and persona I had believed and nurtured over the decades. So much for my progressive beliefs.

I felt too uncomfortable to ask questions about this newly revealed identity of hers, too awkward to voluntarily discuss it at all. I didn't know how to act, or what was the right thing to say.

She had never come across to me as a feminine person. I couldn't imagine anyone more manly. Politically, Dad leaned centre-right on a lot of issues. Yet Dad came out (if that's the right term) as a trans woman. She told me she'd felt like this all her life, that it wasn't a new thing for her at all.

Dad was acknowledged by all as the rock that supported and protected our family.

I never had anything against trans people, mind you. It was just so hard to reconcile with everything I knew about and experienced with Dad.

In my mind, "he" was the epitome of a "man's man", a passionate and skilled cabinet maker, strong in body and will, someone so many looked up to as a leader. Dad may have had a somewhat short temper, but also had a heart as big as the ocean "he" loved so much.

And I did accept it, though I admit it came as a shock and I struggled to comprehend it. My father was absolutely the last person I could have imagined being transgender. Dad had been an authoritative and seemingly masculine figure, a former commander of the Manly Coast Guard in Queensland.

My family's reaction had been mixed. Mum had known before the rest of us for some time, and had accepted her wholeheartedly and been entirely supportive. I was next to know, I imagine because they considered me more progressive than my siblings.

Yep and yep. 👍

I would recommend any of the games in the GIPF series by Kris Burm, such as Tzaar, Yinsh, or Lyngk. Also, Igisoro may be worth a look. It's a game in the Mancala family, more sophisticated than Oware but not as complicated as Bao.

Unless you're going postal on them 🙃