My daughter died two years ago today.
Amelia Laine Worth
Jan 10, 1984-Nov 7, 2006
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
November 7th, 2008 at 1:24 am
Michael,
That was a passionate, tear inducing tribute, your daughter sounded like a true angel.I am so sorry for your loss.May she rest in peace and when you see each other once again joy fills your soul.
A old BOMB fan
November 7th, 2008 at 1:57 am
Thanks man.
November 7th, 2008 at 10:42 am
In memory of your daughter,
There is no card, no flower, no clever quote that I can send to ease the pain in losing someone so special or so close to your heart. As your friend, I suspect that maybe your daughter represented a hope you had that this life wasn’t as bad as it had been. If so, I understand and grieve with you, for whatever hurts you and DJ, hurts me.
Solomon wrote, “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted.”
As you remember the life, the joy and the hopes of your daughter, don’t forget the love. Love never dies. It is that hope that helps me get through seasons like these. One day, all that love, will be together again.
your friend,
KB
“Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not love, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.
And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not love, I am nothing.”
November 7th, 2008 at 6:59 pm
Thank you brother. That helps.
November 7th, 2008 at 10:25 pm
Michael:
Words fail me. They are just words and RE matters of this sort their
impotence is too evident, but let me just say I feel for you and I think
the words you’ve shared with us show a father’s love, and let us get a
glimpse of the kind of wonderful girl Amelia was.
I strongly suspect that, mixed with the grief, there’s a real gratitude
for having the extraordinary good fortune to have such a beautiful person
for a daughter. She vanished way too early and I know you wanted more time
with her. But knowing her at all, in the first place! That must bring some
smiles from time to time…
A beautiful tribute, man.
November 7th, 2008 at 10:55 pm
Thank you very much.
MWD
November 8th, 2008 at 3:03 pm
You honor your daughter and do her proud. She lives on through you.
November 8th, 2008 at 4:17 pm
Wow. Your words moved me to tears. As a christian, I’m inspired by your daughter’s testimony. And I appreciate your transparency in sharing your thoughts and feelings. I hope that when my time comes that someone will say about me, that I was a light-filled practicing Christian. Thank you.
November 8th, 2008 at 5:30 pm
Thank you Chip and Garett.
MWD
November 9th, 2008 at 8:17 pm
Thinking about you, nothing else I can say, *hugs*
Erin
November 9th, 2008 at 8:36 pm
Thank you sweetie.
MWD
November 10th, 2008 at 10:45 am
Michael,
As a father of two boys who are still too young to get into trouble, I can’t find words to express how sad I feel for your loss. Amelia’s comment about hugs and your comment about sleep loss made me remember something I wrote a while back, after losing a friend… obviously quite a different situation, but it feels right remembering and sharing:
I reach and I stretch
but I just can’t connect
’cause there’s nobody there
and I’m lonely with thoughts
of hugs on my mind
and they won’t go away
my arms oh my arms
are just arm lengths in spite
of the miles they span
in utopian thoughts
forming hugs in my mind
thoughts I won’t give away
I feel its so real
but the singular sound
of my heart beats aloud
disrupting dreams based
on hugs in my mind
dreams I have every day
and they won’t go away
November 11th, 2008 at 2:05 am
Michael,
I have no words. You have my deepest condolences.
*HUGS*
November 11th, 2008 at 5:01 am
Thank you, Faete.
MWD
November 11th, 2008 at 4:00 pm
I’m sorry. It’s not fair. Love, Deb
November 11th, 2008 at 9:10 pm
I was thinking about you and Amelia while I was rushing the 3 hour drive to the Children’s Hospital where my 3 year-old granddaughter had just been taken on Sat. evening. She had run through a burn pile, and has 1st and 2nd degree burns on her feet, calves, knees and right palm, as she fell when she hit the soft ashes, and there were hot coals hidden undernieth. She is doing well now, and was sent home yesterday…. but, I didn’t know any of this when I was headed to the hospital. My son had called and said she had been lifeflighted, and we had so little information. I now understand a little of your pain…. I hope that time will bring you peace. Love, marion
November 11th, 2008 at 9:13 pm
So sorry to hear that marion. Yikes.
MWD
November 21st, 2008 at 7:03 pm
All I can say is just remember the good times with Amelia but that’s obvious and try to not move on (because you never will) but just live out your live and do more things because she would have wanted you to.
-Ian Schultz-
November 21st, 2008 at 7:20 pm
Thank you, Ian.
MWD