February 2026
Mum leaving flowers for Carolyn on Christmas Day - a tradition she would carry on for the rest of her life.
Reflections on Loss, Love, and the Unbreakable Spirit
Carolyn: Living Fully, No Matter the Odds
My little sister Carolyn was born with a severe disability—one that would shape her health for her entire life. From the very beginning, her path was never going to be an easy one. Yet if you had asked Carolyn about that, she likely would have shrugged, cracked a joke, and carried on with whatever she was doing. Difficulty was simply part of the background noise of her life, never the headline.
High school was particularly cruel to her. She was bullied relentlessly, targeted for being different, for standing out in ways she could not control. For many people, that kind of treatment would have crushed their confidence or narrowed their world. For Carolyn, it did neither. Refusing to let that environment define her, she made the brave decision to change schools and completed her education at a religious school where she could focus on learning rather than survival.
From there, she went on to study at the University of Western Sydney. This alone would have been an achievement, given her health challenges, but Carolyn never did things by halves. While studying, she took on a job working in a halfway house for people with intellectual disabilities. It wasn’t easy work—emotionally, physically, or mentally—but it mattered to her. That job paid her university fees, meaning she graduated without a HECS debt. She didn’t want handouts, sympathy, or shortcuts. She wanted to earn her way, and she did.
After graduating, Carolyn continued working in the disability sector, dedicating her professional life to helping others who faced challenges of their own. There was something deeply fitting about that choice. She understood vulnerability, dignity, and perseverance not as abstract concepts, but as lived experience.
As time passed, however, her own health deteriorated. Eventually, she reached the point where she required an oxygen machine. For many people, that would have meant retreating into the safety of home, accepting a more limited life. Carolyn refused. Instead, she organised a portable oxygen tank, slung it into a bag, and kept going. If Mum needed to go shopping, Carolyn went too—oxygen tank and all.
One moment in particular has stayed with me. Mum had just undergone knee surgery and was confined to a wheelchair. There was Carolyn, pushing Mum through the shops while carrying her portable oxygen bottles. People stopped and stared, astonished by the sight: a severely disabled woman, tethered to oxygen, caring for her recovering mother. Carolyn didn’t notice the looks, or if she did, she didn’t care. This was simply what needed to be done.
What stands out most about Carolyn’s life is not just what she endured or achieved, but how she did it. Not once did she complain about her circumstances. Not once did she ask, “Why me?” Instead, she maintained a wicked sense of humour that never deserted her. I was often the butt of her jokes—my absent-mindedness was an endless source of entertainment for her—and she delivered those jokes with impeccable timing and a grin that dared you not to laugh.
Carolyn and Mum were inseparable. They were companions in every sense of the word, bound by love, loyalty, and shared routines. When Carolyn passed away on 21 December 1999—the Summer Solstice, just days before Christmas—Mum’s heart shattered. Watching her bury her youngest child at Christmas time was one of the most heartbreaking things I have ever witnessed. The joy of the season felt painfully out of place against that grief.
Even now, decades later, Carolyn remains a source of strength for me. Whenever I find myself thinking that something is impossible, I think of her. I think of what she endured without complaint, of what she achieved without special treatment, and of how fiercely she insisted on living as normal a life as she could, given the hand she was dealt.
Carolyn never asked for anything extraordinary. And yet, by simply refusing to give up on life, she became exactly that.