Isabella Mikac, 23, is the daughter of Walter Mikac, 62. She was born in 2001, five years after the Port Arthur tragedy, in which Walter’s first two daughters, Alannah and Madeline – and their mother, Nanette – were killed.

Isabella: Dad says I was born with my eyes wide open, ready for the world. When I was little, he was around a lot. He’d pick me up from school, but he was always late: I’d be standing there, at the spot where everyone waits for their parents, then end up at after-school care. When he came, sometimes we’d go and play tennis and, afterwards, we’d go to the milk bar and he’d let me get three licorice bullets.

Our family [Isabella’s mum, Kim – Walter’s second wife – has two older daughters] was really close. We’d set the table for dinner, watch Home and Away every night. Then Mum and Dad split up when I was 13 and we were separated. It was really sad for me. I was with Mum, then I went with Dad.

I can’t remember learning about Alannah and Madeline: what had happened to them was just always there. When I was a kid, Mum kind of swept it under the carpet – she wanted to protect us – but Dad tried to talk about it. He’d take me to their graves and talk about it openly. But I just shut down: I found it too hard to talk to him about it face to face.

‘I’ve always been very protective of Dad … I can’t be responsible for giving him more pain.’

Isabella Mikac

Port Arthur’s had a massive impact on me. I haven’t properly dealt with the confusion and guilt of feeling like I don’t deserve to be alive because they’re not alive, but also feeling like what I feel isn’t valid because I wasn’t there. Dad really struggles with how much it affects me. He doesn’t make me feel less than or anything, but I don’t think he understands how much I’ve taken it on. He seems to think he’s dealt with it, but I’m like, “[There’s] a lot more there.”

I’ve always been very protective of him. When things aren’t going well, I don’t go to him: it’s like I can’t be responsible for giving him more pain. I feel like he deserves a really high-achieving, perfect daughter. I’m like, “F---, I’m my own person with my own journey,” but there’s a comparison I make with a three- and six-year-old who didn’t have time to f--- anything up. It’s like a perfect memory and I feel guilty for having any issues.

I do admire Dad and look up to him – he’s so hard-working and resilient – and I know he’d do anything for me. Honestly, when I’m happy, he’s happy. I think the happiest I’ve ever seen him was when we finished the Kokoda Track in 2014. He was really proud, and so happy I’d done it with him. I’ve been struggling a bit lately, so we haven’t been in touch as much, but he texts me all the time.

His big piece of advice is: “Live within your means.” That’s not really inspiring! I’ll text him for $50 and he’ll be like, “Live within your means!” We have the same sense of humour, the same eyebrows, the same taste in music. When I was little, we both loved Cold Chisel. I’d love that in the future: being in the car with him, singing along to Khe Sanh, no issues, just happy in the world.