13 Oct How Is Joy Possible After the Unthinkable?

The first time I met Dani Elm, we were on a group call. She used a wheelchair and had a tube in her throat. I didn’t know what had happened to her. What I knew was that she was encouraging everyone else on that call. She talked about her hopes for the future, including having another child through a surrogate.

I was surprised by how thoughtful and kind she was, how she laughed and joked about things throughout the conversation.

On one call, Dani shared her story. She, her husband Daniel and their six-year-old daughter Darcy had been in a car accident. Darcy died. Dani was left paralyzed, and her injuries meant she could never carry another child.

She had lost her only child. She had lost her body as she’d known it. She had lost the future she’d imagined for her family. I could not even imagine the agony she was enduring.

I’ve written about experiencing joy most intensely during some of the darkest times in my own life. But Dani’s situation was a whole different level of pain. How is joy even possible after the unthinkable?  I saw her talk about things joyfully; even her talking about Darcy was filled with joyful recollections. I had a hard time listening; I was choked up thinking of losing one of my own children and surviving that.

Brené Brown’s research tells us that joy is the most vulnerable emotion we experience. When things are good, many of us brace for the worst. We rehearse tragedy so it can’t catch us off guard.

Dani didn’t have to imagine the worst. She lived it. And yet her joy and grief could live together, and she could bravely navigate the vulnerability of both.

When Dani joined me on Finding Joy, we talked about Darcy, the accident and what it has meant to keep living since.

Dani wrote the book, Our Last Steps, partly because she wanted people to know her daughter. She was funny and full of energy. She was pure sunshine. The accident is part of Darcy’s story. It is not the whole of it.

Dani was honest about what came after. She spent months in hospital and rehabilitation; she was in a coma when Darcy had her funeral, learning to live with her injuries while grieving Darcy. Daniel was injured too and later experienced PTSD. When Dani came home, she struggled with depression and at times felt hopeless.

We want to get over things and have things go back to ‘normal’. Nothing will ever be normal for Dani and Daniel. And yet they are moving forward and have created a new life, one without their child and yet with hopes for a new one.

Dani has a story like no other, and yet holds something we all share to some degree—knowing loss, longing for something different, and having the courage to embrace the life we have and choose to really live in a new way.

Dani told me about the people who kept her going: Daniel, her mother, her friends and her community. There were times she couldn’t hold on to hope herself, so they held it for her.

Dani has also found ways to keep Darcy part of everyday life. She and Daniel have found ways to honour her.

During lockdown, Dani started painting little minions and hiding them around Swanage for children to find. Families would take a photo and hide them again for someone else. She made more than 1,700 of them. Spreading some joy in such a fun and creative way.

Dani wanted to give kids something fun to do, and she did. It made me laugh to imagine how many hours she spent painting minions.

How is joy possible after a loss like Dani’s?

I don’t think there’s a clear answer. Dani still misses Darcy. She also laughs, loves her family, makes plans and brings happiness to children in her community. The joy doesn’t replace the grief. It sits right beside it.

When I asked what she would say to someone going through something that feels unbearable, she said, “Don’t give up.”

She knows how hard that is. She also knows what it means to create a life that matters even when it’s not the life she would have chosen. That’s courage and bravery at its deepest.

Listen to my full conversation with Dani Elm on Finding Joy.