Learning to live without your child is a journey—one that begins as a tragic, overwhelming voyage full of despair and anguish. In the early days, you cling desperately to anything that floats, adrift in a sea of grief. Over time, the violent storm begins to fade, leaving behind a thick mist and gray clouds. It’s hard to see a way forward, and you struggle just to keep paddling.
Then, just as you feel ready to give up, the clouds break and a rainbow appears. The rain, mist, and choppy waters don't disappear entirely, but that glimmer of light brings hope. You realise this journey doesn’t have a final shore—there is no fixed place of ultimate sanctuary. Your path is to keep sailing. Strong tides still catch you off guard, forcing you to fight to stay afloat, but there are also times of calm waters... and then there are the extraordinary passengers you meet along the way.
This past year, I’ve continued navigating these waters. It’s been turbulent at times, but there have also been moments where I found my footing and rode the waves.
Navigating a voyage like this naturally changes your relationships. Some who traveled with me for a time eventually drifted in their own directions. While that hurt, losing Isaac taught me that life brings many forms of loss, and sometimes grace means letting people move on with love.
Thankfully, I haven't had to sail alone. I’m carried forward by old friends who have been by my side forever. Their steady support, guidance, and laughter keep me afloat and encourage me to take the plunge into new adventures I used to be too anxious to try—including a major new challenge I’m taking on this September. Hitting the big 5-0 this year also forced me to face my own mortality and focus on my physical and mental strength—not out of vanity, but out of a fierce desire to be here, healthy and present, for my daughter. Though out these changes this year, these special people have had my back.
I’ve also welcomed new friends to my crew. Along the way, I’ve met amazing people from all walks of life. I believe they appeared for a reason, like beacons that light up those occasional dark skies. We’ve become each other’s biggest cheerleaders, checking in during low points and brightening the stressful days with laughter and camaraderie. One special woman has become a kindred spirit whose journey and own deep loss mirror my own so closely that it feels like our angels brought us together. As painful anniversaries approach, we anchor each other through shared understanding.
And holding everything together is my family. My incredible husband, who rides these rough seas in his own way through relentless fundraising in memory of our boy. My sister, who has never left my side. And my true ray of hope, my daughter—my real lifeline. She may not even realise it, but she is the very reason I keep paddling forward.
As I navigate another year of this journey without Isaac, I’ve learned that while I can swim on my own, I don't have to. When the storms hit, I have an extraordinary crew who rally together to help calm the turbulent seas. We support, uplift, and push each other to do amazing things.
I started this journey lost at sea, but today, I move forward surrounded by love—and I think Isaac would be so proud of the confident, stronger mum I’ve become for him.
Running for Isaac raises funds in memory of Isaac for the Evelina Children’s Hospital. If you would like to support please donate to: https://www.justgiving.com/page/darren-smith-runningforisaac
