In 2007, Christabel's father died, and her world fell apart. She was just nine at the time. Here is her story...

It was early Tuesday morning, January 16, 2007, when the phone rang. My world was about to change. Hopewell Hospice was on the phone. Mum took the call. Within minutes, we were in the car heading for the hospice. Me, mum and my little sister Charmaine.

It felt strange. It was a sunny day but my heart was sad. I knew this was probably the last time I was going to be able to hug my dad, ever. As we entered the room, all around seemed as gloomy as I was feeling. I had been to the hospice room dozens of times in the past two months. In the early days, it was almost a fun place. Charmaine and I had raided the biscuit jar in the kitchen, played with a dog called Tilly and had time next door at Paradise Kids. But today, the room felt darker. There wasn’t much light shining in through the drawn curtains. Just little cracks of light. I held mum’s hand as we stood at dad’s bedside. To be honest, I didn’t quite know what to do. I just knew this was the time we said goodbye.

Time seemed to stop, no music was playing as there had been in the past and there was little conversation.  The faces of the nurses and volunteers seemed blank – not the happy faces which had been so much help to us all.  We sat by Dad’s bed for hours. Dad seemed asleep. Mum said to talk to Dad as he would hear us.  I stroked his head and held his hand, not knowing if he knew I was with him.   Later, Mum explained he was in a coma – a word I had never heard before.  No happy little Tilly the Hopewell Hospice dog running about, no birds, no laughter, just the sound of slow long breaths.  We spent all morning with Dad and then Nan and Pa took us away for lunch.  I wanted to be with Dad, but Nan and Pa explained that Mum wanted time with Dad alone.

The phone rang at Nan and Pa’s, and once again we were in the car racing back to see Dad.  There was nothing to say in the car. No words would help. Just time to sit and stare out the window. Was Dad gone? The car pulled up. I didn’t want to go in. Mum was waiting for us at the front door. I could see she was crying. I walked slowly with Nan, Pa and Charmaine towards Mum. And I gave her a big hug. She didn’t need to tell us – we could tell by her tears. “Daddy is at peace now,” she said.

I wanted him to still be alive.  Holding each other’s hands, we all walked into Dad’s room. I was frightened not knowing what I would see. Dad lay calmly and still on his bed. One lonely red rose grown from Hopewell’s garden had been carefully placed on him. I held Dad’s hand again, but this time it was different. The warmth had gone and his skin colour was different. Nan, Pa, Mum, Charmaine and I all stood around Dad’s bed holding hands, singing a prayer.  

(Christabel's full story is now in the final book available from Paradise Kids.)

Bullying destroyed Stevie's confidence and self-esteem. Then, with little warning, her mum took Stevie and her brother away from their home town...

The train seemed to rush along, blurring the trees and hills as I stared out the window. My little brother Hunter was with me, so was my mum. The dark sky and clouds didn’t help my mood. I knew I was on a train and that my life was in turmoil. But in a strange way, it seemed like I was watching myself, rather than experiencing what was happening.

The journey north from New South Wales towards Queensland was not a happy family holiday. We were running from something. Life had been hard for Hunter, for me, my mum and my dad.

So hard I’d sometimes find myself thinking yucky thoughts, mostly at night after mum and dad had fought or I’d had another day of being bullied at school. But what was happening now was big – real big. We were escaping and it felt there was no turning back. As the train rolled along, I just looked at Hunter sitting there in silence and I knew this wasn’t fair on someone so young.

(Stevie's full story is now in the final book - at Paradise Kids)

Amanda (pictured) and husband
Brett had it all. Three beautiful
girls and a life to cherish.

Then came the news their eldest
daughter, Gemma had an inoperable brain stem tumor.
Here is their story...

It is now just over two years since we lost our beautiful Gemma.

Most days it still feels like a dream. Gemma is going to come running through that door with her blonde hair in plats and that awesome full-of-life personality.

We loved our daughter unconditionally. I can remember how proud and delighted we were to be parents the day she came into our world. Some years later, our family was complete when our gorgeous twin girls Lillie and Pypa joined us all.

From that day on, it was full steam ahead … our life was perfect.

The weeks before Gemma’s diagnosis, I felt there was something not quite right.  Call it mother’s intuition. Gemma did not quite seem herself.

Her speech, her motor skills, her actions had started to become clumsy. We put some of it down to the loss of her front teeth. And we quietly prayed to ourselves that everything was alright.

But in my heart I knew something was not right.

Just days before we noticed the changes, I was out pushing the twins in their pram. In front of us, Gemma skipped and ran, so happy to be out in the sunshine. Her plats rose and fell as she bounced along. Life was everything I ever wanted. There she was, my Gemma, full of life and a picture of health. It is a picture that will forever be etched in my mind and my heart. 

Shortly after that magical day, we found out that Gemma had a Pontene Glioma, a brain stem tumour.

We also found out it was an inoperable tumour with patients having a zero survival rate.  Our brave little girl was given nine months to live. She made it through just seven…

(Amanda and Brett's full story is in the final book. Contact Paradise Kids.)
 

Caitlin loved spending all her
time with her dad. They would
go to the car races and have fun wherever they went.
Then one day, she found out he wasn't coming home.
Here is Caitlin's story...

I will always remember that day. It was like being struck by lightning. I was busy working away at school when I was called to the front office.

As soon as I stepped in the office, I saw mum. My head started spinning. The look on her face was indescribable. Tears were running down her face. We came together and hugged before any words were spoken. As I asked what was wrong, mum struggled to reply.

She said it was bad news. Daddy was not coming home. Time seemed to stand still. What had happened? Why wasn’t daddy coming home? What had happened?
My heart started racing. Mum again said: “Daddy’s not coming home”.

At that point, I knew he had died. Mum said there’d been a motor bike accident. My dad, gone in such a horrible way. At eight years of age, I felt my world fall apart.

When we arrived home, the police were there. One officer sat down and explained to me that he crashed and really hurt himself, and no one found him until the next day, so he had died overnight.

The policeman might as well have been talking about anything but my daddy. The words would not sink in. Over and over, I kept hearing my own voice in my head saying “why me, why me?”

My little sister Sarah was only 19 months at the time, so she didn’t really understand what had happened.

But for me, I simply felt like I had my heart torn from my chest.

The funeral came fast. It was March 11, 2004. The day was hot and sunny, but we all felt dead inside. I was so scared to see my dad in an open coffin. I didn’t want to see him dead. He meant so much to me that I didn’t want him to leave my life. But it wasn’t his fault. At the memorial, every emotion I have ever had came flooding out. I was sad, afraid and scared, very scared. At that very moment, I had no idea how I could continue to live my life. Then I saw him in the coffin. He had a suit on, his skin was pale, almost white. I looked at him and cried while I held his hand. His hand was so cold. Then, in such a short time, it was time to say goodbye. A last goodbye.

Leading up to that day, I had found the strength to write a few short words in memory of my dad. I had spent hours writing them in silence in our lounge room. Ages and ages. But I needed to make sure they were my words - and that they summarised what my daddy meant to me.

As my turn came to speak, I felt I was ready. I stood in front of everyone, 300 people, and started my speech. Within one sentence, I started crying. My uncle, who is dad’s brother, helped me finish the speech.

(Caitlin’s full story, and her emotional speech for her father, is in the final book.)

Theresa and Gary lost their
beautiful son Alec James to
a debilitating disease.

But their bravery and uncond-
itional love have helped them heal.
Here is their story...
 

     
In the space of seven years, Craig
and Liz suffered the tragic loss
of two children.

One, within days of birth, the other,
at full-term. Cradle, a parent
support group in the Northern
Territory, helped them cope.

Here is Liz’s story ...