I have one husband, three children, three siblings, two grandparents, and my mum.

My Dad died in 1998.

His parents died in 1996 and 1997.

I have so much grief in my heart after losing these wonderful people in my life. My grandparents were moving into senility with old age, but Dad was in his prime.

The thoughts and words and tears just want to tumble out. So much loss and sadness in such a short time. I try to tell myself that in the grand scheme of the universe the three deaths were minute and destined... but it doesn't feel that way.

My grandparents had moved away to Auckland to a warmer climate and be nearer the rest of the family. They also moved into a rest home. Granddad had more mental capacity, but had long suffered from heart trouble. Nana was asthmatic and ill and often couldn't remember who we were.

Nana and Granddad were so special to me because I spent school holidays with them when I was young. The first holidays I spent with them was when we moved down to the Wellington region. Dad had found a job but we didn't have a house. We had to wait until a house was available through his work. Mum and my brother and sisters stayed with Mum's parents and I stayed with Dad's. I felt lost and abandoned by my family, and at the same time I was being independent and felt loved, grown up, and special.

That year I helped Granddad choose everyone's Christmas presents and one that we selected for Nana, he gave to me. That day was the first time I got to ride in an ambulance. Granddad sat down and asked me to go get a shop assistant. I would have been ten years old. I had no idea what it all meant.

From then I would often spend holidays with them. Sometimes it would be just with Nana while Granddad was in hospital. I felt cherished and warmed by their love and I loved them dearly. Nana kept shrinking and I wanted to hold on to them both and will them to health and youth.

No one was with Granddad when he died. When he moved up north he was bitter and that hurt me deeply. It was as though he had forgotten his love for me and my family. But no one was with him when he died. I was in Auckland looking after Adrian's younger brother and sister. I had Lucas with me, and I was pregnant with Amy. I got to see him in the hospital. I couldn't be there when he died and he died alone. I wish I was with him.

He was the first family member I ever saw laid out in a coffin. His skin felt like tissue paper and he looked at peace.

Dad died in a helicopter accident.

I was at work and got an unusual phone call from one of Dad's friends saying that I should come home because Dad had been in an accident. Everything felt wrong and out of sync. I phoned my sister and we decided that it was really important to get home fast.

He was working in the bush doing what he loved. We have no idea why he chose to get in the helicopter, but the reason is irrelevant.

I was pregnant and my wee girl has Dad's hair colour.

I sometimes feel as though he is watching over me to make sure I'm okay. I wear the bone carving he had made for me every day.

We didn't really talk much, but he understood me.

Dad and Mum had made plans to travel and have fun because all their kids had left home. Dad was 47 years old.

My biggest wish would be to have him still with us and for my children to know and love their Pop. My middle child doesn't remember him, and my baby wasn't born yet. Pop was my nickname for him from the Polar Pop bears :) and it stuck.

The last time I saw him alive was when he visited for Adrian's birthday and I cut his hair.

He didn't tell me he loved me... and that hurt. But I know how much I love him and that he loved me too.

I feel adrift and lost. I miss my Dad.