THE BEGINNING

‘What else Daddy? Give me more stuff, I’m like a sponge.’ Caitlyn was an eager 11-year-old girl enjoying learning for its own sake. In the months before she left to begin boarding school at Wycombe Abbey, I would look forward to spending time with her on Saturday mornings taking her to tennis lessons followed by Starbucks to work on Bonds Books and Common Entrance practice papers. She didn’t always enjoy the heat and humidity of Singapore tennis lessons, nor the boredom of repetitive practice tests, but we did both love the special daddy-daughter time.

Of course it wasn’t always like this. Caitlyn was born in October 2006 on a beautifully crisp autumn morning at Heatherwood Hospital in Ascot. As I returned home to Windsor after a laborious 16-hour labour, I recall how beautifully sunlit, serene, and perfect the day felt.

Although I grew up in an Asian patriarchal culture, I was ecstatic to find out that my first-born would be a daughter. Caitlyn was a Daddy’s girl. I took care of her, dressed her, cuddled her, fed her, and soothed her. As she grew as a toddler, there would be bitter-sweet moments where she would stand by the window of our home and cry as I left for my daily commute. Little did she know I would return each evening.

INDEPENDENCE

Caitlyn was only age six when she started to develop her independence. I once recall her proudly declare: ‘Sometimes when I’m angry, I don’t do my mouthwash.’ That was the extent of Caitlyn’s rebellion; disobedience didn’t come naturally to her. As cute as that may seem from a six-year-old with a beautiful Asian-Caucasian complexion, her naivety changed little. Even as she grew into a teenager, she carried an intense desire to please those in authority.

I was particularly taken aback in Easter 2022 when I picked up Caitlyn. I sat patiently on the sofas of Wendover House waiting for my daughter to appear – unfortunately, I didn’t see her coming and she side-swiped me, pretty much tackling me onto the sofa. It’s a myth that people with autism don’t have much emotion. We do – it’s a lot – but it’s amplified and it is internal! We are so often misunderstood: in fact, Caitlyn loved so, so intensely but also so, so, internally. I think about that moment a lot because I didn’t realise that someone so grown up could be the exact same 4 kilograms that I picked up on the day she was born.

DEBILITATED BY PERFECTION

There was a fierce precociousness in Caitlyn’s love of learning. She loved learning for its own sake preferring to take joy in interesting information rather than develop strategies to merely pass exams. In the months before her death, she would be able to name the flags of each nation; she was someone you would want on your pub quiz team!

Shortly before her GCSEs were due to begin, she wanted to drop English Literature; language skills such as inference could be challenging but moreover, she maturely pursued a love of learning over an accumulation of grades. Like most people, she wanted to do well in everything she signed up for. Of course, we listened to her and yielded although I wonder whether I should have more actively taught her to persevere in an imperfect world, rather than prematurely leap into a perfect heaven.

Yet there was a quaint charm to her perfection: Caitlyn would struggle to shop for gifts or clothing, debilitated by the spectrum of choice that the world afforded her. There would be years where Caitlyn would not gift birthday or Christmas presents… not because she didn’t care, but ironically because she cared too much. She loved so intensely that some years gifts were not perfect enough, for those she loved so dearly.

A FULL LIFE

Caitlyn was so much more than autism, Wycombe Abbey, and detention. As I prepared this Pen Portrait, I catalogued hundreds of thousands of photos of Caitlyn; like Caitlyn, I also understand the world uniquely through the lens of a camera. Like Caitlyn, I am also autistic. I saw photos of Caitlyn obtaining her scuba diving licence at aged 10 in the Philippines, playing tennis in Scotland, modelling in Singapore, camping in Wales, riding helicopters in New Zealand, skiing across Japan, honing rifle marksmanship in Birmingham, driving at age 13 at Mercedes Brooklands, and hiking the Great Wall of China. Even I was surprised how full a life, Caitlyn lived in six thousand and forty one days (6,041). Rick Warren puts it well, in his book, ‘The Purpose Driven Life’: Life truly IS a temporary assignment. Reflecting on these images and memories bought a peaceful joy to my heart.

RELATIONSHIPS

Even as she ventured into the big wide world, she was able to do that from the comforting foundation of family. In recent years, the family foundation tragically fragmented but love continues in many forms: sisters; parents; extended family; friends; and the Wycombe Abbey community.

Relationships meant a great deal to Caitlyn. Whilst family is imposed, friends are chosen so I hold the greatest reverence, fondness, and appreciation for those fortunate to have been Caitlyn’s friend. Almost daily, Caitlyn wrote about friendships – whether past, present, or even future – and these relationships were often on her mind. Now, we can hold her in our hearts.

In the months following Caitlyn’s death, I live through the atomic blast radius that an unexpected death causes. Caitlyn would not have wanted to unleash such emotional devastation on her loved ones, the community, and our nation. It would be foolish to speculate whether she would have done things differently, had she known the impact of her death. Most people don’t want to end their lives; they just want the pain to stop.

I – her very own father – failed to help my daughter envision a life full of hope. Whatever she may have felt in the moments leading up to her death, I respect her agency whilst disliking her decision.