Sunday the 21st of April 2019 will forever be a day when nothing was as it should have been.

I was home for Easter, over mid-semester break. It was the first time I had been home since I started university and we took the opportunity to go on a bush walk for the first time since October last year. I met Athol that day. Dad invited him and some other people to come along on our trip to Parsons Falls on Tasmania’s Central Plateau. But while we went to the falls together as part of the same group, I never spoke to him besides a friendly hello.
I knew him for less than an hour before he risked his life to save my Mum when she fell 30 metres down the face of the waterfall.

I have only seen him once since then. For me, he remains in this bizarre grey area of being a stranger whom I know nothing about, but at the same time, I cannot imagine what my life would be like now if I’d never met him.