
Amelia Laine Worth
Jan 10, 1984-Nov 7, 2006
Her voice
Her obituary.
My only child died two years ago today. Here’s many photos of her, some that haven’t been seen much, some where she’s bald from chemotherapy.
When Amelia died, I was devastated. Slayed. Now, two years later, I still am. I am finally able to smile a little bit, and I can sleep the full night most nights, finally, but I am still permanently altered by her death. Still have a lot of nightmares. Still feel life isn’t fair. Still feel less like there’s a reason to “try to help the world” than I did before she died.
Amelia Laine Worth was 22. She had Leukemia. She’d had it for three years. Amelia fought a brave fight, went through dozens of procedures and scores of visits to doctors and hospitals. She’d been prodded, poked, and poisoned, all in an effort to produce a clean bill of health. Shortly before she died, she basically told me, “If this time doesn’t work, I don’t mind dying. I am just sick of all this garbage, and I just want to be a normal kid having a normal life.”
I was with her when she had her last chemotherapy. It was a new drug, one they hadn’t tried, one that had some scary side-effects. It was a last last last resort.
Amelia was in pain, so they’d given her morphine. Morphine is God’s gift of comfort for people in agony. She was too groggy from the painkiller to read the list of side effects the doctor gave her right before they hooked up the drip of chemo. She looked like a crumpled angel. I said, “Are you sure you want me to read this to you?” She said “yes.” I read it. The list enumerated everything from gas to loss of hair; loss of limb to loss of sight, brain damage or even death. And pretty much everything in between. The list of possible side-effects was two pages long, single spaced.
She made a sleepy joke about it. She said, “Well, if that’s all that might happen, let’s do it.”
They say “Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” I’d have to add “…Except chemo.”
They say it’s is a terrible thing when a parent outlives their child. I’m here to second that emotion. I know people Amelia’s age who statistics say should be dead but aren’t. And I know people who drive drunk, have unprotected sex with street whores and pick bar fights with murderers. I know people who inject street drugs, AND who are scumbags, and people are violent, selfish, who are truly deserving to be taken out of the gene pool, who’ve pissed off a lot of badass criminal people who own firearms, but are still walking around sucking air, wasting space, and pissing people off.
My daughter didn’t smoke. She didn’t do drugs. She barely drank. She was a good person and literally opened doors for little old ladies. She was a light-filled practicing Christian, and totally true to her boyfriend. She adored animals and did volunteer work. So why is she dead?
EITHER LIFE ISN’T FAIR OR IT’S JUST IRONIC. I DO KNOW THAT MANY GOOD PEOPLE I LOVE ARE DEAD, AND EVERY SINGLE SMARMY BASTARD I’VE WISHED DEAD IS STILL ALIVE.
Amelia’s death really made me question my belief in God. Not that he exists, but that he cares. Call if self-pity on my part if you like, I just call it evolving world-view. And I will say that if you haven’t lost a kid, there’s no way you can understand this.
But life goes on, and I’m doing a little better now.
===-

Here’s a poem she wrote about being sick:
Subject: My Heart Feels Like Ouch
Date: Fri, 30 Jan 2004 22:44:21 -0800
Today it hurt
More than yesterday
It’s finally setting in
I feel like ouch
I wish I had a broken heart
People survive broken hearts all the time
it’s raining in my head
and that’s what my heart feels
Too many tears
not enough hugs
lots and lots of prayers
it just hurts
Some days are better than others
today isn’t that day
God, please let me be strong
I fear I can’t see the rainbow
