STORY - Ten years on - and some days it only feels like yesterday

I dedicate this to my daughter, Francene Louise, in the year of the tenth anniversary of her death.

They say grief is the most painful human experience. They also say it’s not normal to bury your children. They bury you.

Firstly I would like to take you back to my childhood. I was a very naive 12-year-old. Tragedy struck and my 17-year-old sister died very suddenly.

As my sister had been at boarding school until less than a year before her death, I felt that I didn’t know her well and that her death did not have much of an impact on me. I thought my mother just carried on with life, with the exception of the radio, which was not allowed to be used for what seemed like years. We made the pilgrimage to Sandgate cemetery every Sunday. I can remember the statues, arum lilies and five decades of the rosary. My sister was rarely mentioned.

The years passed. I left school, went to work and married. My wife and I had three beautiful children who grew into adulthood, enjoying life.

Francene, our younger daughter, was diagnosed with leukaemia on her 18th birthday in 1990. How our life changed. Shattered, we went through the trauma of shock, anger, chemo and radiotherapy, a beautiful eighteen year old losing her hair.

Good news – the treatment worked and Francene went into remission. Everything looked rosy - back to work, sport and enjoying life once again. The doctors said that Francene was their success story.
Francene (Fran) married in 1996. She and her husband lived overseas - enjoying life, working and often travelling by motorbike.

After three years of married life and happiness, just twelve days before Christmas 1997, Fran rang. Doctors at Birmingham Hospital in the UK had advised her to go home as soon as possible as she had come out of remission. How well we remember the homecoming at Sydney airport.

Fran was in and out of hospital throughout 1998 and died on 20 January 1999, aged 26.

When Fran died, I realised that the lump in my gut, which is still there at times, would have been in my mother’s heart for many years, as she lived till 85. Luckily she was spared the trauma and sadness of her grand-daughter’s death, dying eight years earlier.

My greatest regret is that I never talked to my mother about her sadness and loss. I didn’t realise until I experienced my daughter’s death what she went through.

We feel we have a strong faith, especially my wife who is more prayerful than I am. This has helped us along the way – Masses, rosaries and novenas.

Both our daughters were involved with the late Fr Helferty and Antioch at New Lambton. Many friends were a tower of strength to us all.

During Fran’s illness, we organised a Novena to Mary MacKillop, sending copies to relatives and friends locally, interstate and overseas. It didn’t work – well not the way we wanted it to – I am still not happy with Mary MacKillop!!!

I remember the day Fran died. Sr Kath Williams (a Chaplain at the Mater Hospital) said to us, “You won’t ever get over Fran’s death, you will just learn to live with it.” How true. I remember these words often.

We have experienced many family deaths: my parents, my wife’s parents and brother; and although we were close to them, their deaths were nothing like the trauma of losing a child.

My wife and I realise we were fortunate to have had Fran for 26 years. We know that many children die younger. We are grateful but still go through the anger, sadness, grief and loss of our daughter.

Never say to a parent who has lost a child, “I know how you feel”, because you don’t, if you haven’t lost a child.

It is important that we talk about Francene – her wedding photo, glasses and watch are on a table in our vestibule. I change an engagement photo and a photo of her skiing in New Zealand from time to time in our family room. How long will I do this? Forever I think!

I have three beautiful grandchildren. When they stay over we go out at night and pick the brightest star – Francene’s star.

I realise I can find some blessings in Fran’s death. My priorities have changed. I value life more. Fran is not in pain. We had (and have) unbelievable support from family, friends and parish.

And yet still there are questions and pain: the loss of a daughter which tested my faith, and feelings of emptiness. I remember saying, when I read in the paper of a 100-year-old lady dying: “Why would she not die at 80 and give my daughter an extra 20 years?” Silly I know, it doesn’t work that way… I remember looking down into Fran’s grave and asking the undertaker, “Why is it so deep?” And how must my wife feel, having given birth to a daughter and then burying her?

Before Fran’s death I felt I had a strong faith and parish commitment, helping others when needed. Now, I have ups and downs, I have doubts, I still ask why. I couldn’t sing in church for two years. But I still appreciate my faith and thank God for it.

We have a small statue and plaque in our back garden. The plaque reads:

Francene Louise, a special and beautiful girl who shared our lives
and dreams and who will always be close to our hearts.

John Skippen
All Saints Parish Blackbutt South

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