From Here On.

My wife and Foundation co-founder Elena Matyas four months before she died.

By Co-Founder Doug Forbes

As many of you know, my wife died on March 4, which is three weeks ago and two years and 17 weeks after summer camp operators killed our 6-year-old daughter.

I’ll spare you the rehashing of the who, what, why, where and when. But I won’t spare you my initial takeaway.

I’m now alone in my house, alone most days. In many respects, I feel like a child trapped in a mid-life body. Vulnerable. Distracted. Dizzied by a million and one new thoughts about a life I hardly recognize. Not fully in control of the mind or the body. Attended to by many who shed love, support, direction. But tempted to poke that which might bear harm. And not fully able to recognize the consequences.

Being wrapped up in all of this rather esoteric fabric has forced me to further explore the work I do for this foundation, the work that I commenced two weeks after my daughter was savaged. And now, it’s also the work that I do in absence and honor of my beloved life partner who was ultimately savaged by two beasts: one named cancer and the other named the DiMassa family.

The vulnerability that I now feel, further tethers me to the vulnerability that children feel.

For instance, going to camp is largely a rite of passage. Braving the backyard pool or the ocean blue is largely a rite of passage. However, this world is knotty, baffling, unapologetic. Seemingly innocuous rites of passage too often swiftly veer into the very darkest of waters, thanks to predators or ethically bankrupt philistines at too many camps and ill-preparedness or aloofness in too many aquatics environments. Vulnerability becomes the devil’s playground.

Is there anything worse than harming a child in that proverbial playground? The answer is, “Yes.” Worse than harming a child is doing so in broad daylight, doing so with impunity, doing so fully aware of the effects that the child, if able to survive, will harbor until that child is mid-life like I am, and beyond. Such harm and subsequent inertia are far more common than the average person thinks. That’s why we do what we do here.

The hallmark of children is that, when even mildly shepherded by sound guardians, they largely progress through their dizzying, vulnerable, easily bewitched early stages. But when harmed, they retreat into those darker waters. They feel like I do in absence of that which I loved most… the freedom to live out loud because I adored what adored me back.

This is a roundabout way of saying that, although I myself have one foot in troubling tides at this moment, the other foot is where it needs to be — on firm ground where I do the work that, in some small way, might just help the forward progress of a child in Austin, Texas or a child in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania or a child in Jacksonville, Florida or a child in Minneapolis, Minnesota or a child in Pasadena, California. Make no mistake, the work is a painful, nonstop reminder of what I no longer have. However, it is also a reminder of what I had and what every child and every guardian should have — bountiful love and the chance to leave this place a bit better than we found it.

Believe me, I know I am but one speck in a massive spectrum of folks who are doing far more profound work than this. But even specks can disrupt, foster change.

One more note. My wife’s final wish was justice for Roxie. Make no mistake, that wish will be fulfilled. It will…be…fulfilled. Also, understand that “justice” extends to millions of children who deserve long overdue protections against outrageous harm.

As this nation’s sole camp safety foundation working to better protect 20 million kids at tens of thousands of camps in a largely unregulated $26 billion industry, and one of far too few childhood drowning prevention advocates, there is an infinite amount of work to be done. But this foundation will become stronger than ever, fueled by the unforgettable story of little girl named Roxie Mirabelle and her magical mom named Elena Mae.

A QUICK NOTE TO MY WIFE:

You are the words we lost when we didn’t have words
The places we go when we need to leave
The stars are in you, my love
Oh, this Life, my love
Oh, this Death, my love
You continue within me, beside me
Until our bones collide in the soil
Until those stars inside us ignite again one day