When I was younger my dad always told me I was going to be a writer.
I loved to write. I used to write my parents letters and stories. Each time, no matter what I had written, good or bad, he would say ‘Your gonna be a writer!’ So that was my plan; to be a writer who would travel the world.
Kids were not on my agenda at all. My dad was a great man for giving me life lessons, even from a young age. We used to take walks together. Dad used to say ‘Life is what happens as you’re making plans’.
It was May 2003 and I was loving my teenage life; no responsibilities, out with friends, constantly partying and planning to start college in September. My mum and dad were teenage sweethearts. We always looked up to them and I always wanted to marry someone like my dad. He adored my mother and she him.
They had given us the happiest of childhoods and shown us what unconditional love was. It was their time now for themselves.
I remember lying in my bed and my auntie coming in to wake me to say my dad was in hospital. He wasn’t well. He had been pushing himself too hard in work for months, trying to save up to take us on a trip. I was instantly annoyed at him for working so hard. That feeling was swiftly followed by fear. My dad was never ill.
As we drove to the hospital I made my auntie stop so I could get credit and text him. I told him he was so silly for pushing himself to the point of ending up in hospital and that I loved him and I couldn’t wait to hug him and had bought him credit as he never had any.
I will never forget my mother sitting in the hospital. That was the moment my life changed forever and came crashing down around me. No one needed to say it because I saw it written in her face. I still see it now in her face, 13 years on. I heard someone let out such a scream that it frightened me. It was me, as I met my brothers eyes across the car park . There are no words to describe it.
My dad died suddenly died of a heart attack when I was 18, just four weeks after my birthday. In that moment I felt more like an eight-year-old, a small child frightened and so full of pain.
The night of his death I sat and wrote to him, just like I had when I was little. I poured out my heart to him. I read at his funeral. I felt I needed to read to him one last time. Losing a parent is the most painful and heartbreaking thing life can throw at you. It changed our whole lives. We all had to learn to begin all over again as a family of four instead of five.
Those first years were sad, dark and lonely for us. Without family and friends, who knows how we would have coped? Losing dad made us all so much closer as a family. It made us appreciate each other so much more. It made us learn the hard way that life is not a dress rehearsal; you only get one shot. Something Dad said a lot.
My mother has to be one of the bravest and strongest women I know. She has come through life’s battles and is the most caring and loving mother and Nana to me and my children. Often when she is with us I picture dad beside her and I know he would adore all his grandkids now.
You never get over losing a parent. It’s really only now, 13 years on, that I am finding the strength to sit and write again. Try be the writer he always saw in me.
Now that I have three beautiful children of my own I feel that the time is right to share my experience of being a parent to children who all have their own challenges and adventures. I want my experience to help others in similar situations. I want to let them know they are not alone.
Tomorrow: ‘Mia Is Our World And We Are Hers’
Carrie Burton is 31. Married to her childhood best friend Daniel, the couple have three beautiful children who all have special needs. Carrie likes to write about the reality of their conditions and what it’s like for her family to live with them. They are her world. You can catch up with her at her blog Life As I Know It.
