I remember him.

He wasn’t a father to any of us – I don’t think he was even old enough to have a five-year-old child, but he supported and treated us in a way that a father would his own children.

Sam was a trainee teacher in my Year 1 class in Primary School. He had long hair in a ponytail and a few rings on his fingers, and I thought he was really cool.

When I was five years old, I hid on the playground behind a brick wall, with little holes in it so I could see the other children playing. I cried most lunch times, because I wanted to go home like my brother. He was a year below, and only did half days, so I watched my mom collect him from nursery every day and cried about it.

Sam was the one to keep me company, letting me follow him around the playground, and hand things out in the classroom. He was helpful with crafting activities, and he made me love doing a Round Robin, when we rotated around the room doing small tasks for a few minutes at a time.

He was kind and told us jokes. He was silly and loud. He read us stories, and made some up himself.

He encouraged us to pursue the things we liked. I wanted to write stories, and he helped me to do so.

I love writing and reading because he never made me feel silly for liking them. He was the first, outside of family, that motivated me to try and achieve a goal of writing a book. I still haven’t made it yet, but I’m trying, and it’s thanks to him that I’ve carried my love of storytelling and creativity through my life.

I wanted to be like him when I was younger. I now work in a school, and I have rings on every finger, like he did.

I remember him.

***

Mr Austin was my Year 5 English teacher in middle school. He had a prize draw each week for the students who worked well. He put my name in often, and I got things like sweets, pens, and even small toys from the box.

He spoke enthusiastically about his family. After he travelled to Malaysia to visit his girlfriend’s family be brought back some seaweed flavour pringles. He talked for a long time about places he’d seen and things he’d done.

Mr Austin was also on Total Wipeout when he was younger, and he showed us clips of him falling into the water.

I wrote my first long-length story in his class (in reality it was about 8 A4 pages long, but I was so proud of myself for doing it). He gave me a school prize for it, and I was one of the highest house-point earners that year at school because of him.

I knew I’d made the right decision, and I kept writing. Because he noticed my work, and he told me I’d be great.

I remember him.

***

Ant was one of the managers at my first job. I worked in a clothing store for about three years after I turned sixteen. I was really shy for the first few months, and didn't really speak to many of the staff other than a few girls my age.

Ant worked a late shift with me one night, about four months after I started, and it was the first time I properly spoke to him. It was only three hours, wandering around the aisles, picking up dropped t-shirts and straightening the hangers on the racks, but it was nice to have someone to talk to while doing it.

Ant always waited until we'd all got a lift home before getting into his car at night. The car park wasn't very well lit, and in a not-so-good area, so he always waited with us until our parents arrived to pick us up. It's only a small thing, but it really made a difference. I felt much safer standing in the dark at night, knowing he'd stay until the familiar headlights came around the corner.

I remember him.

***

Different people come and go in our lives. We don't remember all of them, not even most of them. But the ones who have an impact, who you care about and are happy being around, they are the ones we remember.

I doubt very much that these people will remember me in a few years time, if they remember me at all now. But they'll stick with me forever. The little things that they did, each day, had a lasting impact.

They're the dads we come across in our journey through life.