While writing my dad's eulogy five years ago, I discovered details about his life I'd never fully grasped before.
When I was little, I knew he was doing important work that took him away so often I dreamed of being a taxi driver so I could see more of him.
I remember dad, whose name was Cedric Jacobs, travelling to the United Nations in Geneva with the National Aboriginal Conference in 1981. The NAC, I learned decades later, was effectively a Voice to Parliament and the document he was presenting to the UN was a plan for a Makarrata.
Before piecing together his life, I'd only ever heard of Makarrata - the Yolngu word describing "the coming together after a struggle" - when Australia was offered the Uluru Statement from the Heart in 2017.
The Statement calls for a Makarrata Commission to supervise a process of agreement-making between governments and First Nations and truth telling about our history.
The idea of Makarrata - treaty and truth telling - has been around for over four decades. So why doesn't Australia have Makarrata, and what happened to the NAC?
I wanted to learn more about the work my father and his generation had done in helping lay the groundwork for the Uluru Statement from the Heart.
So, with Australia preparing for this year's referendum on establishing an Indigenous Voice to Parliament, I began a confronting but hopeful journey back through the archives for a special episode of Compass.
My dad was a Reverend of the Uniting Church and my mum was also a pastor. I always knew they held homophobic beliefs.
I knew I was gay when I was about 19, but I felt like I could never tell my father. Growing up, I had heard him say things like, "Gays are going to hell", and that "AIDS was brought by God to punish the gays".
Digging into the archives ran the risk of unearthing hate in my parents' teachings.
Turns out I didn't have to dig too far to find it.
Australians have come together many times to stand with First Nations people.
It's striking to me that some of the greatest momentum has happened while First Nations people had a Voice to Parliament, like they did with the NAC and ATSIC. Despite achieving great outcomes, both organisations were abolished by the government of the day because they weren't enshrined in the constitution.
There is a strong argument that to close the gaps between First Nations people and non-Indigenous Australians, we need a permanent Voice to Parliament. The only way to achieve that is to enshrine a First Nations Voice in the Constitution.
At the end of the year Australians will be asked to vote on whether these changes should be made to the Constitution.
The last time an Australian referendum was successful was in 1967, when we voted to change the Constitution to allow the government to make laws for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people and include them in the census. Its resounding success was fuelled by bi-partisan support.
Half a century later, Australians would again support social change, voting "yes" for marriage equality in 2017.
Debate during that postal survey divided the country. It also divided my family.
As I campaigned publicly for marriage equality, some of those closest to me wouldn't be swayed. My parents seemed to be rusted on "no" voters.
While I watched rifts deepen within my own family, I decided the only way to maintain a relationship with my parents was to never mention marriage equality. I had to trust their vote would be cancelled out by the support of a majority of Australians. And it was.
For this year's Voice referendum to succeed there needs to be more than one "yes" for every "no". The double majority threshold means it needs to be supported by a majority of people in a majority of states, which means we all have to use our voice.
But times of social change tend to bring out the complexities of relationships.
Hours after the marriage equality count was revealed, my dad phoned. I asked how he felt about the result, which gave me and his gay grandson, Elisha, the right to marry. "I just want all my family to be happy," he said.
I never spoke to my dad about being queer but these words proved to be all I ever needed. I wish I had spoken to him more, and I hold onto that conversation because the following year he passed away.
Recovering some of the homophobic words my father uttered in the 80s was confronting and difficult. But I know for sure he changed his ultra-conservative beliefs later in his life; he seemed to undergo a reckoning of sorts.
I'll never know whether my dad voted "yes" for marriage equality. But I do believe the resounding "yes" from the country moved him to see things differently.
It was a small unifying moment in my family yet a giant one for the nation. A unifying moment we might experience again later this year if we come together for a First Nations Voice to Parliament - and take another step towards Makarrata.
Watch Come Together on Compass on Sunday, June 18 at 6:30pm on ABC TV and iview.