It’s hard not to feel a failure…

When you have two offspring and one of them dies by suicide, it’s hard not to feel like a failure. We loved Charlie more than life but the hate in the world toward trans individuals drowned out our love. Charlie herself wrote to us to say that we loved her more than she deserved. Of course, this wasn’t true. Charlie was kind, quick as a whip, and had infinite potential. Every atom of love we held for her was only just a micro-element of what she deserved.

In grade 9, Charlie took a high school course in drama where she became known for her “fun fact of the day”. Charlie was just being her clever, quirky self but she obviously had quite an impact on her classmates because when she missed multiple weeks, due to mental health issues, they recorded a fun facts video and sent it to her. It was clear how much she was loved and appreciated by her classmates and teachers.

Here we are four years after her death and I am still in tears thinking about her. My pain is not just due to loss of who she was, but to the loss of someone with so much potential. What could and should have been. I hold inside such fierce anger at a world that could convince Charlie that her value was defined by her biology, rather than by her brilliant and infinitely kind neurology. Charlie dreamed of fighting for social justice for the LGBTQ+ community. She was smart and driven enough that she would almost certainly have fulfilled her dreams and changed the world for the better.

Those who haven’t lost a child or young adult will never understand how much of our pain is due to the loss of our offspring’s potential. Charlies last mark was 100%. She was so bright and had more potential than 98% of the population. Losing her wasn’t just losing our present. It was losing our future. The future we now fight for is 50% less bright than it had been before.

When Charlie died, the joy in my life died with her. I can still be happy. I can still love. I can still laugh. But unfettered joy will never again be part of my life. The only silver lining is that nothing I experience will ever be as awful as losing Charlie, unless I lose James. I fight every day to keep him alive.

Having said all this, today I am hopeful. Christmas isn’t filling me with dread for the first time in years. I am filling my time with traditions from the past and hope for the future. Making Christmas pudding and mince pies with Mummy, Looking forward to turkey, ham, and all the fixings with my extended family. To all my friends and family, I offer love and kindness and positivity for the future. Special love to my family in England who have shown me so much love and compassion over these past few years, despite the distance between us. I can’t show you with hugs but I am more grateful than I can express through words alone. Happy Christmas to all and best wishes for a happy new year.