Hi Readers — This note arrived about three years ago and I was saving it for some reason. It almost became my sacred creed. Now I want to run it. It needs no intro except: She’s right. — L.
Dear Lenore,
We spend a lot of time trying to control for risks in the lives of our children. We feed them right, we teach them to look both ways, we try devilishly hard to balance exercise and play with rest and work. But sometimes, despite our careful planning and watching and guiding, things just happen.
Three weeks ago, my 9-year-old daughter collapsed and died, in the space of less than three minutes, from a cardiomyopathy so rare that she was twice as likely to have been struck by lightning. She was ice skating, and having the time of her life. She never knew what happened and she was gone before I could skate the 20 yards to lift her from the ice. I’m not telling you this so your readers will all go out and have EKG’s for their kids. Probably couldn’t detect it if they did, to be candid.
This is, instead, about her life and what it meant. My father made a remark, while we were still in the hospital and the grief was devastatingly raw. But it’s sticking with me, and I am finding some solace in it: “She might only have been nine years old, but she lived 20 years in those nine.” What he meant was that she had done a lot, experienced a lot and just..LIVED…while she was here. She rode horses. She rode motorcycles with her dad (always with proper safety equipment). She went to old-fashioned church camps where they played in mud pits and made their own slip-n-slides and jumped in the lake and roasted marshmallows on fires with sticks. She played competitive hockey. She practiced Karate and Jujitsu. She rode her bike to her friend’s house, a mile away. By herself.
Did these activities carry risks? Absolutely. Calculated ones. Ones we could account for and try to control. Was I worried about her? Every day. Every time. Did I let her do these things anyway? Yes.
Am I glad I did? More than you can possibly imagine.
A friend asked me if I had any “unfinished business” with my daughter when she died. I pondered that question. Did she know every day, without doubt, that she was loved unconditionally? I know in my heart she would answer an unequivocal “yes.” Did she leave this earth, far too soon, but having actually LIVED while she was here? Yes. Yes she did. So no; there was nothing I saw in her life that I regretted for even a moment, save that I didn’t get nearly enough moments with her. If she hadn’t lived every moment of her life to the fullest, she might have been here longer. The nature of the disease is that it takes the lives of the active and the athletic faster than otherwise. But if she’d been here, safe and sheltered, for 20 years, I doubt she would LIVED more than she did in these nine.
This act of living, of raising our children, of balancing risk and reward, is not easy. And it is, I have learned in the most painful way possible, filled with uncertainty. But we owe it to our children to teach them to live like every moment is precious.
Because it is.
Keep spreading your message, Lenore. It’s the most important thing you can do. –
Beth
81 Comments
I give some big kudos to you, Beth, for writing this.
To me, this really brings up the main point of Free Range Kids in how we as parents define what it is for our kids to live. There are certainly the basics that we can provide like food and shelter, but there is also the need to experience all of life with it’s ups and downs. I believe we learn more through mistakes and it is our job to not shield our kids from the mistakes, but how to get back up when they happen.
Beth,
Thank you for sharing your story and your daughter with us. Perhaps her LIVING life will encourage another parent to let their child live life to the fullest.
I am so sorry for your loss and also so glad with you that you can have so many great moments with your little girl.
TK in MN
I have a favourite poem that I have on the kitchen wall that starts like this..
Write this on your heart,
that every day is the best day of the year.
(Ralph Waldo Emerson)
I tell my kids this, I bore them with it, but I think it gets through.
This is a beautiful tribute to your daughter’s life, Beth. I’m reminded of the line from Braveheart – “Every man dies, but not every man truly lives.”
I wish I could express in words how deeply sorry I am for your loss.
I have tears in my morning coffee from this. Thank you for writing this, Beth. Lightning can strike at any time. Kudos for giving your daugther a childhood, a real one, that you can look back on with happy memories. Kids can teach us to enjoy the simple things in life like s’mores and mudpits and homemade slip and slides.
I let my kids walk to school this morning. It just started snowing and they wanted to experience the snow before they were stuck indoors all day. I could have driven them but they wanted no parts of that. I received texts from two other moms this morning. One mom said she saw my kids as she was driving her son to school and her son requested to walk with my kids and she let him. The other text was to see if I was OK and if I needed help driving my kids to school.
Thank you, Lenore, for publishing this. When you wrote to me and asked if it was still OK, I hesitated a bit. I had forgotten about writing it to you, what seems a lifetime ago. I wondered if it would read like a rambling mess at this point. But then I re-read it. After three years, I feel like those words are as relevant now as they were then.
Today is the third remembrance of the day Kiersten left us. The grief isn’t raw anymore, but it isn’t gone, either. So it’s a bit of a blessing that your readers can also learn about what a cool kid she was. I hope they take a bit of extra time to LIVE with their kids today, in her honor.
Beth
Beth, thank you for sharing your daughter’s life with us. And I’ll certainly take your advice.
Thank you for this Beth, for sharing a piece of your daughter with us and helping us to learn from the two of you.
I’m so very, very sorry for your loss and will be holding you close in my heart.
That just took my breath away. Beth, thank you for sharing. It sounds like no amount of helicopter parenting could have prevented your loss, but it certainly could have prevented your daughter from living the wonderful, active, care-free, fulfilling life that she did. I wish all parents could read this.
So very true. Thanks for this.
Beth — three years later, I give my heartfelt condolences. You must miss her so much every day.
Thank you for your honesty and level head, and for sharing both.
Lenore — no fair this early in the AM. Bawling.
Thank you. This was beautiful.
This note says it all. Thanks so much for this insight.
Thank you for sharing this, Lenore! Beth, it sounds like Kiersten loved her life as much as her family loved her and through your story I am inspired to dedicate efforts to helping my own children love life. You showed me that this LOVE of life is perhaps the greatest gift we can give our kids. With my condolences for your enormous loss and prayers for your comfort, I add my wish that you continue to love *your* life for a very long time!
Lenore, thank you for sharing this. Incredible.
What a fabulous letter! That’s a very brave, and wise mother to have shared that with us!!
Thank you! Let’s embrace the challenges and experiences that await us. Let’s let go of our fears. Let’s all love a little more. Let’s all LIVE today.
Beth,
Like some of the other readers, tears are streaming down my face. What a beautiful way with words you have, giving us such a vivid picture of some of Kiersten’s life and your thoughts on parenting such a wonderful child. Kiersten not only lived so much more than her nine calendar years, but her life and your parenting will now help remind many of us to make important parenting choices that will enable our children lives filled with wonderful experiences like those Kiersten had. On this third remembrance day, my heart goes out to you.
Thank you for sharing this – I realize it must have been very difficult to do so, but the message is extremely important that others don’t realize most of the time.
Thank you for sharing this beautiful note. When it comes down to it, this is why we are all free-range supporters. So that our kids can have a full LIFE like this young girl did. Parents who have the AWARENESS of the uncertainty of life give their children more experiences, I think. Those who try to control how life happens or naively think that nothing bad will happen if they do everything right get stuck in fear and anxiety. Embrace life’s uncertainty and unpredictability, and LIVE it. Sometimes hard to do, but a great lesson. So sorry for this mother’s loss.
Beth, I have a sob choking my throat and tears in my eyes as I read your story. Thank you for sharing and may God Bless you today. I am going to go hug my kids a little longer and tighter…then send them out to play snowball wars on this chilly, snowy day.
Beth – Deepest sympathies for your loss. Thank you for sharing this with the rest of us.
Beth,
My deepest condolences on this third remembrance. I can not imagine a memory more precious, than a life well lived.
I will be thinking of Kiersten this evening when I let my daughter pick her adventure of the day. With luck, she will get to see rain turn to snow, and regardless will find still more reasons to LIVE her own life well.
This is a heart wrenching story and makes me more adamant that how I’m raising my daughters is good for them. I want them to live and experience as much of life as they can and be kids. Others may judge me and think i’m negligent but their confidence and happiness tells me I’m doing something right. Kudos to you for being a great mother and letting your little girl live a full life.
This is beautiful and an incredibly healthy and amazing way of looking at the life of her daughter, taken too soon.
I think that parents are so worried that they forget it is THEIR worries and when we over protect our children we change their spirit and stifle who and what they may have become!
Beth,
I bet she has found a wonderful horse to ride where she is now. A wonderful tribute about a wonderful little lady.
I love hearing about people who truly see that life is worth living and celebrating, thanks Beth.
Beth, my heart’s breaking from this. I wish you all blessings; keep your husband’s comment in mind and write it next to your daughter’s photo; keep them both together.
Thank you for sharing this. Beth, your words will stick with me for sure. Even at only 13 months old I think my daughter has really lived more than so many other parents let their kids. I’ll take your thoughts with me each day forward as I make sure this celebration of life continues every day of her life.
Just read Beth’s reply to this…so sorry for your grief Beth, but I will be thinking of you and your daughter on this special day. Thanks for reminding me how precious my kids are. Life’s so hard sometimes! But hopefullly the joy balances out the sadness….
An incredible letter. Beth’s loss is difficult for me to fully comprehend, but her message is as clear as the sun: Fear can’t keep us from dying, but it can keep us from fully living.
So beautiful. I would love to see a longer article from Beth sometime on Kiersten’s life.
This is an incredible letter, Beth. It sounds like your daughter led a full life albeit much too short. I experienced the death of a sibling at a young age and this was what has provided me comfort ever since. That she truly lived while she was here.
The fear of something happening again has made my mother afraid, but it has made me free. We all have but one life to live and I want to make the most of it. I want my children to be fulfilled and, if lightening strikes twice, I never want to regret that I kept them from living life to their full potential. And, if it is me that perishes too young, I want them to remember how I embraced life.
I was deeply touched to read this. It was achingly lovely, and I will take Beth’s message into my heart.
I must remember to be careful not to crack my daughter’s ribs while hugging her when I get home today.
What an amazing, graceful, hopeful way to approach life and death. As Wilson said, this is what we’re all trying to do–let our kids LIVE.
In my 34 years of life, I’ve known 5 kids who have died before the age of 4. One of them died of this very condition that killed Beth’s daughter. None of the deaths was preventable, certainly not by the parents, and not one of those children was abducted and killed. The illusion that we have control over life and death is creating an unattainable standard for parenting, and a lot of fat, very fearful children.
Thank you for sharing, Beth. My condolences on the death of your dear daughter.
My heart certainly goes out to this lady. My “little brother” via the Big Brothers program was diagnosed with cardiomyopathy when he was 13 and had to give up all sports including little league baseball and youth hockey. It just about broke his heart but it’s a good thing a very astute doctor came across his condition. Jake was diagnosed with a bad case of cardiomyopathy and needed to have a defrillator implanted underneath his chest. He is now 23-years-old and is doing great although I’m trying to get him to give up smoking. But at least he’s healthy and is not a bit overweight. Considering it is kids who are mostly involved in sports, I believe it is a good idea for all kids to be screened for this condition as rare as it is.
Beth – my heart goes out to you, and thank you for reminding us what it means to live.
Thank you both for sharing this. Beth, I am so happy you knew how much your girl loved you and that you have no regrets. I’m sorry for your loss but proud of you to share your insight with so many others. I hope you continue to heal and spread kindness and goodness to others.
OMG, I’m crying!
Beth, I’m so sorry for your loss. I, too, will take your experience and use them to take a look at the things I let (and don’t let) my child do.
Two of the best, and I do mean best, parents I know lost their middle child just shy of his 7th birthday. He was hit by a truck while crossing the street on his way home from school. He was with his big brother at the time. I have often thought how very very easy it would have been for them to become over protective of their other two children, how easy it would have been to force them to become sheltered to keep them “safe” given the depth of their loss. And it speaks to the depth of their committment to parenting their living children that they took the hard road and did not. I am continually humbled and amazed by their strength of conviction and utter selflessness. Thank you Beth for this beautiful tribute to your beloved little girl.
As a parent my heart goes out to you, Beth, for no parent is meant to outlive their child. As a parent I applaud you, Beth, for reminding the over-protectors and fatalists that each day is a risk that is worth taking. I cannot begin to fathom the loss of a child but I do know that by letting your daughter live each day you were left with the amazing gift of the memories you have of her. *bow*
There is something unbearably poignant in the understanding that perhaps yes, there could have been more time for this child if she had been less active, yet how quantity of time is no substitute for quality of experience.
My oldest son has had three different occasions with infection where he had to be pulled back from crossing over with heavy interventions. Sometimes I wonder why it is that I’m not more “precious” with him, trying to protect him from every imaginable danger; after all, he has faced death more directly than I have in my own life. Interestingly, it’s the opposite impulse I have: I want him to THRIVE, not just survive. I don’t ever imagine it’s my job to keep him alive beyond the most basic essentials. It’s my job to support him to LIVE FULLY. And he does! So if he were gone tomorrow, I believe in my heart I would echo Beth’s sentiments about her own child.
Let’s not be so narrowly focused on quantity — of time, of stuff — let’s focus on the potential each of us has to connect fully to each other, and to life. Fear, and materialism, are antithetical to this. Challenge your kids, and yourself, to connect to the real stuff of living, every day. Don’t hide behind fears, or search for fullness through purchasing. There is so, so, SO much more for us all.
Hooray for you and your daughter, Beth. I am celebrating her life.
Hugs from Canada
Beth,
I couldnt stop thinking about your daughter Kiersten today since I read this post. It is a winter wonderland outside right now and my kids, including my 9 yo daughter, will be home from school any minute. There is homework to do and projects to work on but instead we will SLED! I just dragged them down from the attic.
I have hot chocolate ready to go with tons of marshmallows.
Thanks for the reminder to LIVE without regrets.
like everyone else, I’m simply sobbing.. my heart goes out to you..
My condolences on the loss of your daughter. Thank you for sharing your experience with other parents. We must take the time to enjoy each day and live it to the fullest without being held back by fear.
Beth (and everyone),
I have no children, and won’t (long story). But I live and from time to time work in New Hope PA, and I see lots of High School and college kids hanging out in the town to get the HELL away from their smothering parents; getting drunk, getting piercings and tattoos that are going to be LOTS of fun to explain when they’re 50, looking for Salvia (which, frankly, sounds like a strong contender for Least Fun counterculture Drug, ever). And I have to wonder, would they be so goddamned wild if they had been allowed off the leash a little when they were younger? I have to suspect not. Yes, teenagers are always a little wild (if they aren’t, there’s something ticking away in there), but there’s wild and there’s ‘no conception of the risks, because they’re used to foam rubber padding on everything’ wild.
Bless you, Beth, and bless your daughter.
Beth, I am so sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing your story. I am a firm believer in making the most of each day. I can’t imagine my kids growing up and thinking they loved all the time they spent in front of the TV or computer. I think they will cherish their time spent outdoors, having fun with friends, or trying something new. I look for the courage to give my children the freedom to live life fully, as it was meant to be.
Thanks for sharing your story, Beth. My sincere condolences on the death of your daughter… but I am glad that she had a good life while she was on this Earth…
I am most grateful to my parents that after losing my elder brother (he passed away at about 20 months of age, three years before I was born) they still allowed me a very free childhood, a lot more free than most of my friends had…
Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.
Beth
I’m so sorry for your loss. Thank you so much for sharing it with us. It’s very likely that because of your daughters sacrifice, more children will get to live fuller lives.
Lenore titled this post well.
‘The Most Important Free Range Post Ever’
“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.”
Now the tears come for me. Thank you, Donald.
Beth,
We are strangers, but the memory of Kiersten and her full, happy life, as conveyed through your words to us, will stay with me. I know I will think of her at times when one of my own young children takes another step out into the world. And I’d like to think a reflection of Kiersten’s joy and her life well-lived will be there with them; the sparkle of sunlight on a crashing wave, the tickle of snow spray as a sled races down a hill.
Beth, what a beautiful tribute to your remarkable daughter. Thank you for helping us keep focused on one of the truly wonderful things about raising free-range children – that it allows them to LIVE.
As sad as this story is, it’s also incredibly moving and inspirational. Thank you for sharing it.
Absolutely beautiful. I am touched, and I think I will always remember this story. Please accept my condolences for the loss of your lovely daughter.
Beth and Lenore,
Thank you for sharing. My family lost a child at 5 weeks old after he contracted a virus. 1 in a million chance. One of my biggest regrets was that he would never have a chance to really live. I spent one afternoon with him telling him about all the adventures I wish he’d been able to go on with us. That was 7 years ago.
And he’s given our family the gift of living in the moment and being sure to really live and the importance of that.
Here’s to celebrating life and living it to the fullest!
Blessings to you both.
Touching and beautiful. Thank you for sharing Beth.
That is beautiful and moving. I don’t have any words to say except thank you for sharing your daughter’s life with us.
One of the commenters was spot on:
“The illusion that we have control over life and death is creating an unattainable standard for parenting, and a lot of fat, very fearful children.”
Amazing post, and even more amazing that I received this in my email the same day: http://www.mamapedia.com/voices/why-i-will-never-let-my-daughter-ride-her-bike-alone
Note one of the follow up comments:
our statistics are out of date and misleading. Those stats are from a 2002 study and are incomplete. You left out that only 115 of those abductions were true stranger abductions, that 99.8% were found and returned home safely, that the 800,000 missing that year included runaways. You missed the fact that child abduction rates have been declining for the last 20+ years. The NCIC statistics show 531,000 missing child reports in 2010 and only 5,000 of those were found or believed to be involuntary.
Here are the statistics on child deaths for the entirety of 2001 – 2010:
500 — Abducted and Killed By Stranger.
30,000 — Homicide.
75,000 — Automobile Accidents.
350,000 — Natural Causes.
If you never let your 12 yr old ride their bike in the neighborhood, but you drive him/her to school and sports practice and the grocery store feeling like the responsible, reasonable, cautious parent, you are either deluding yourself or are terribly misinformed.
Lots of different viewpoints out there. I’m glad this site is here.
This is moving. I am crying.
Paradoxically, I also am laughing at (and scolding) myself, newly aware that I still reasonably can expect to see my own kid skating, free range, probably without such an outcome at hand, and how blessed I am for that–but if a similar tragedy should improbably happen, I am still blessed. Thank you, Beth.
Lenore: I first suspected you were guilty of hyperbole with your chosen headline. I could not have been more in error.
Thank you for sharing this most beautiful reaffirmation of Life.
Amen!
It’s been years since I read this book, but a quote from it has been with me lately, and seems more than apt here:
“Treat every moment as your last. It is not preparation for something else.”
–Shunryu Suzuki, Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind
Beth,
My daughter is 10, so I’m touched by this horror. My heart goes out to you, and thank you for your thoughtful handling of your tragedy.
Beth, your letter serves to remind me of one of the most important things in life: how people can learn from each other. Your daughter would be proud of you.
When I was about 11 years old, my mom took it upon herself to tape a little poem to the bathroom wall – right across from the throne. Needless to say, that poem got read every day for years. The paper faded, the scotch tape yellowed, and there it stayed, year after year.
Fast forward 20 years….as a 31-year old, one day I was talking to one of my sisters, and I suddenly remembered, and asked her…do you remember the poem on the bathroom wall? She didn’t. Later that night, racking my brains – it all came back to me.
Line for line. And I thought – my God, this is how I’ve lived my life! The point is: My mom never preached or lectured (that was my father’s job. ) Her way had a much softer, gentler touch – but worked.
So here it is:
Poem on the Bathroom Wall
The clock of life is wound but once
and no-one has the power
to tell just when the clock will stop
at late, or early hour
Now is the only time you have
so live, love, toil with a will
and place no faith in tormorrow
for the clock may then be still
anon
thanks, mom, thanks anon,
and thank you, Beth.
jp
Beth , so sorry for your loss. I agree whole heatedly. I have a 5 year old daughter,also called Beth. 17 months ago we took her to Portugal for our first family holiday where I worried about everything from the plane crashing to her falling from a balcony, drowning in the sea or falling victim to a Madeleine McCann type abduction. Of course none of this happened. However, ten days after our return Beth was diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukaemia. this was never on my list of fears and I realised in that moment that we cannot protect our children from everything and cant control all aspects of their lives. Strangely I have become more relaxed since her diagnosis and she leads a very normal life with school, playing out with friends and attending Girl Scouts. I feel I am waffling now but just wanted to reiterate that I am in full agreement with you.
This was very touching, and hard to express in words how it makes me feel.
The closest I can come is what my youngest says to me most evenings.
“Today was a great day.” And every so often, at least twice a week, “Today was the best day EVER!”
And he is totally right.
Beth,
I was very touched by your words. I will remember your daughter.
Thank you,
Delanie
Truly heartbreaking and uplifting at the same time.
My daughter was diagnosed with leukemia two years ago at the age of 5. While we’ve had to keep her in somewhat of a bubble in regards to infections/germs we have decidedthat because of her cancer diagnosis we will allow her to LIVE as freely as possible. To not be afraidof the boogeyman or the world. We have seen true horror and it almost ripped her away from us and there was never any hovering, lack of info, whatever that could have prevented this disease. We are allowing her to enjoy a life that may not have been.
Beautiful and heartbreaking