My search for my lost father - Kiwi journalist Diana Wichtel's story

I can't remember much about the day we left. When we got to the airport I felt a little put out when my father paused to put some 50 cent pieces into an insurance machine that promised to pay out if we crashed. He always was a bit of a gambler. I don't remember saying goodbye, just turning to wave when we went through the gate. It didn't feel like a big deal: Dad was going to follow us to New Zealand.

We would see him soon.