On February 1 at 7:20 pm, my beautiful nineteen year-old daughter Chloe Elizabeth was killed in a head on collision. Four other people were badly injured.

Tanja, my wife, called me at 8:10 while was out for a walk and told me to come home right away. She told me the police were there and I could tell by the sound of her voice something was terribly wrong. I was only a minute or two from home and sprinted the rest of the way.

The cop asked me to sit down. I don’t remember much of what he said other than the only thing that mattered, “She didn’t make it.”

“She didn’t make it.” She didn’t fucking make it. She’s dead.

And unbelievably, the nightmare repeats itself.

4696 days before, on March 26, 2010, Cindy, my first wife and Chloe and Melody’s mom, took her own life. The girls were just five and six years old.

When I sat them down to tell them, Melody’s first question was, “When is she coming back?” How do you even answer a question like that from such a tender young heart? I answered the only way I knew how, “Never little buddy.”

And now I had to do it again.

Twelve hours later, we told now almost eighteen-year-old Melody, who was away at a camp, that her sister was gone. I will never forget the contorted mask of anguish on her face as long as I live.

She’s lost her mom. Now she’s lost her sister. How much can one family bear?

And what will never be done begins anew.

Yin and Yang

In Chinese philosophy, the concept of yin and yang refers to the belief that opposite forces are interconnected and interdependent in the natural world. In other words, ideas that seem completely contrary to one another are actually deeply related.

One of the most important lessons I’ve learned from Cindy’s death is the idea that something can be a tragedy and a gift at the same time. It took me a long damn time to wrap my head around that idea. When I first started pondering this idea, I felt guilty for even considering it. It was like I was dishonouring Cindy by accepting that a lot of good emerged from her death.

Cindy’s death changed the trajectory of my life forever. And while I’m far from perfect, I am a vastly better human being because of my experience. I’m a much better husband and father. I’ve been able to help more people in more ways than I would have ever been able to had I just lived a “normal’ life (whatever that means).

I have so many incredible people in my life that I didn’t have the first time. And they are all stepping up in ways that are so beautiful and so touching that I almost can’t believe it. Except I can, because that’s who they are.

And while nothing can take away the unimaginable hell we’re experiencing right now, I am much better equipped to love and support my family through this nightmare. And to ask for help to receive the love and support of the people who care about me.

I will navigate this experience sober and present.

Emergence

As I’m writing this it’s been just 61.5 hours since Chloe passed. Somehow it feels like a year already. And it also feels like it hasn't happened at all. I’m sure that will change when I go view her body in two hours. I’m terrified. More terrified than I have ever been in my entire life.

But here’s the the thing…I can already see some of the gifts that have emerged from this goddamn, motherfucking tragedy. The last time it took about five years. This time it has taken a day and half.

That’s not to say it does anything to lessen the pain. I don’t want to lessen the pain. I want to fully experience it for as long as it takes. Pain is an integral part of healing. Darkness makes what’s visible in the light seem so much more vibrant.

One of the gifts that has become clear is just how much I love the people in my life and how much they love me. Especially my friends and business partners. I think I often took our relationship for granted. Seeing they way they have stepped up and how much Chloe’s death has affected them has made me truly understand how important they are to me and I am to them.

That’s a huge gift in my eyes.

I’ve realized how many people care about me and our family. I’ve had countless people reach out and tell them how my relationship with Chloe inspired them to be better dads to their own kids. In that way, Chloe’s legacy will live on in some small way in families all over the world.

That’s a huge gift in my eyes.

I have also have this profound sense of certainty that this experience will help me become a better person and that I will be able to help more people at a higher level. I don’t know when and I don’t know how. I just know. I find that deeply comforting.

That’s a huge gift in my eyes.

My friend and business partner Jeff, have developed the skills to create a memorial service that will be beautiful and connecting for everyone there. We’ll design an experience that will get perfect strangers talking about what they loved about Chloe and looking for practical little ways to carry the best of her forward into the world. It will be meaningful, healing and empowering.

That’s a huge gift in my eyes.

The most important one to me is that I will hug my daughter Melody more tightly and more often from now on. And the same thing goes for my mom. We’ll be even closer as a result of this.

And that’s the most important thing in the world to me right now.

R.I.P Chloe. I love being your dad and I always will.