Our lives were like the story we had always envisaged and had worked hard to create.  A happy marriage. Two boys we are proud of.  A beautiful home filled with love and a favourite holiday destination – Phillip Island – our happy place. Life was full and rich, and everything felt like it was falling into place.

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In early 2024, our oldest son Cooper had just turned 25. He had moved to Brisbane for a promotion and an exciting new chapter. Our youngest son, Ashton was 17 years old and preparing to begin Year 12, with the world at his feet. With both boys stepping into their futures, my husband, Deane and I found ourselves quietly preparing for the next phase of life—one of new plans and the bittersweet beginnings of an empty nest.​

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Then, on January 28, 2024, everything changed.

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Cooper passed away suddenly, without warning. The kind of loss no parent ever imagines facing. One moment we were making plans for the future, the next we were living a nightmare we couldn’t wake up from. One of those moments in life that splits your world into “before” and “after.”

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We had always worried, like all parents do—waiting up at night until our boys were home safe. But nothing could have prepared us for this. The grief was—and still is—beyond words. There were days I couldn’t understand how I was still breathing. We moved through our home like shadows, trying to function in a world that suddenly felt foreign and broken. ​Grief became a constant companion. Our home, once filled with movement and conversation, fell quiet. We moved through it in silence, passing each other in the hallways, lost in disbelief.

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Each of us grieved in our own way. It took time and patience to understand that there’s no right way to mourn. When your heart is shattered, it’s hard to think of anything—or anyone—outside of that pain. And yet, we found small ways to support one another, moment by moment.

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We were surrounded by love and support—from family, from old friends, and from some unexpected, beautiful souls we hadn’t known before. But we also experienced the loneliness that grief can bring. It’s uncomfortable to witness, and not everyone knows how to hold space for it. That, too, became part of the journey.

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Fifteen months after Cooper’s passing, I discovered writing. At first, it was just a way to feel close to him. I’d write at the cemetery, and it felt like l was sharing all my thoughts with him. Slowly, those moments turned into something more—a way to process the heartbreak and keep his memory alive.

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The idea for this story began during a conversation with Cooper’s beautiful girlfriend, Beth. She spoke of her hopes for the future and the children she once imagined having with Cooper. Though heart-wrenching, her words made me realise how important it was to carry Cooper’s light into the lives of future generations—our son Ashton, our nieces and nephews, and beyond.

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​What began as a deeply personal tribute has grown into something larger. I soon discovered that many others, walking their own path through grief, longed for the same thing—to honour their loved ones and keep their stories alive. This book is our way of doing that. A tool for healing. A legacy of love. A reflection of Cooper’s spirit—forever part of us.

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Thank you for taking the time to read my story, and for letting me share Cooper’s light with you.​​​​​​​