In June 2011 my beautiful loving daughter Courtney Mae aged 14 2mths of 15 drowned when the boat she was in capsized in Lake Macquarie. As Courtney’s mother I am struggling to comprehend why my daughter died, when life jackets were available to them.
We We weren't married... We hadn't lived together for years and years... However, we were everything to each other. We had 4 years of being a couple.... 13 years of being best friends. The connection was, and is, sooo deep. We were best friends, partners, companions, lovers. Rich went into the hospital in September 2011. He ended up needing open heart surgery, to replace his aortic vakve. Initially, surgery seemed successful. However, many complications occurred, which lead to many subsequent hospitalizatiins.
Every year it creeps up on me. In late February I start feeling uneasy, not myself. I wonder if I'm coming down with something. Why can't I sleep? It'll probably pass, I tell myself. But anniversaries are hidden things that can seep in and seize you unaware. The light bulb goes on when my son Ben calls from Boston or D.C. or Texas or wherever he's gotten off to and says, "Tomorrow is the day that Lauren died." Of course.
Once a year, a group of slow-moving people gathers in my driveway to accomplish a major feat - walking across the street. They have cancer and are in the active phase of treatment, which may weaken them physically, but not in the ways that count. They head toward the Wellness House, a cancer support center that sits across from my house. Instead of staying home which they could easily justify, they come out to kick off the 5 and 10K walk that raises funds for the center. There are balloons, music and prizes.
At the time of my mother’s death I’d been in the social work field for over a decade. I’ve always been drawn to service. Prior to my mother’s passing away, I didn’t spend that much time with her. In a way, even before she died I was already grieving her loss. This might have been part of the reason social service called to me, as a way to give others what I never got. This has always been something of a spiritual journey for me, a process of finding my place. My spiritual mentor was a man named Brian Brunius, a Usai Reiki Master.
A friend just lost a parent, a co-worker's sister passed away, the much beloved pet dies, or one other of the many life events that throw people you care about in a place of grief. What do you do? What do you say?
Today marks my daughter’s 17th birthday. But I often find myself asking the question, “How does one celebrate the birthday of a beautiful child who is now in heaven?” For most parents celebrating the birthday of their child is a joyous day filled with love, laughter, family and friends. But for me it’s a day of mixed emotions. I read poems, I look at pictures and videos, I visit the cemetery and place flowers, I let go of balloons, and I cry. I cry for the life that was never lived. I cry because my daughter is not here to celebrat
After reading a recent article in the Medical Journal of Australia I was disgusted with the perspective put forward that there is no benefit for parents in holding their stillborn child. Whilst I lost my daughter four days after birth I couldn’t fathom what I might be feeling today if I did not get the chance to bond with her. How can a parent NOT benefit from the opportunity to hold, love, make memories and create a connection that will be ever-lasting with their child?
I Miss You
By Cindy Adkins
