Patrick Clancy’s Statement About His Wife And Children Is The Most Inspiring Thing I’ve Ever Read
Over the weekend Patrick Clancy, whose 3 children were killed by his wife Lindsay in their Duxbury home, issued a statement about announcing that he had forgiven his wife. Here it is in its entirety:
Thank you all for your love and support. The warmth I’ve received from the community is palpable and your generosity gives me hope that I can focus on some sort of healing. I’ve seen all of your messages and contributions, including some from people I haven’t seen in over a decade and many I’ve never met. I see and appreciate everyone of you.
A lot of people have said they can’t imagine and they’re right, there’s absolutely nothing that can prepare you. The shock and pain is excruciating and relentless. I’m constantly reminded of them and with the little sleep I get, I dream about them on repeat. Any parent knows, it’s impossible to understand how much you will love your kids until you have them. The same goes for understanding the devastation of losing them. Cora, Dawson, and Callan were the essence of my life and I’m completely lost without them.
My family was the best thing that ever happened to me. I took so much pride in being Lindsay’s husband and a dad to Cora, Dawson, and Callan. I always reminded myself that each day with them was a new gift. Callan usually woke up first and would rest his head on my shoulder for a few minutes as he adjusted to morning. Dawson typically sang or spoke his thoughts out loud for a while before we’d go get him. Cora was a big girl and would simply walk downstairs. I can still vividly picture her coming into the living room each morning with her hair in a mess, smile on her face. We always started our days together, reading books, cuddling up on the couch, and playing with magnet tiles. I loved taking them places, whether it was scooting at Chandler elementary, vacation, skiing, out on the boat, or to Duxbury Beach, one of our favorite places on earth. They gave me purpose and I never took it for granted. There is now a massive void where that purpose once was.
Cora had an infectious laugh and was stunningly beautiful. She was the cautious one, but it was really because she was so caring. She used to say she wanted to be a doctor and a mama when she grew up and she would practice by giving Callan check ups. If she was leaving the house to go somewhere, she would pick someone to take care of Caroline and Charlotte, her baby dolls. She had all the doll accessories available, so her sitters were well-equipped. Before she turned 2, she was already wrapping them in perfect swaddles. We would tell her she’s such a “good little mama.” She loved all babies, both real and pretend. She loved sloths, unicorns, tea parties, going to lunch with Nana and Grandpa, and giving presents to people. She knew everything about princesses, her favorite being Sofia the First. She truly loved her brothers and us and said it often in her sweet voice. We did a lot of father-daughter activities together, like skiing and visiting San Francisco or just talking. I loved her, my first born, so much.
Dawson had beautiful, bold, brown eyes that beamed with friendship. He was naturally humorous and generous beyond the norm of a typical toddler, always willing to share his toys with others. For all the love he received, he always gave back more. His best quality was his pure kindness. He loved trucks, tractors, dinosaurs, Paw Patrol, “worker guys” and being outside. He was adventurous and mischievous and enjoyed causing trouble, which he typically found hilarious. He was also remarkably smart. We always said if we didn’t save enough for retirement, it’ll be ok – we’ll just live in Dawson’s guest house. He would hug me tighter than most adults and every night he told me in consistent words at bedtime, without fail, “goodnight dada, I love you.” We had a special bond from day 1. He was my buddy, my first boy, and truly a gift.
Callan was our easy going child. I always said it was because he was the third child – he had to adapt and he did easily. He was born with hardly any fuss and was by far our best sleeper. He was just an incredibly happy and vibrant baby, constantly smiling. Our nickname for him was “Happy Callan.” He was sitting on his own and you could tell he was enjoying his growing independence as he would grab any object within reach. Sometimes he joined my Microsoft calls in the background, playing in his jumpy. I would keep my camera on, too proud to leave it off. He started saying “Dada” whenever I walked in the room. The last moment we had together was our routine. I would come up from my office at the end of the day and swing him between my legs while he laughed and smiled. If I was ever having a bad day, Callan always knew how to heal me. Perhaps that’s why he held on a little longer – to spare me whatever pain he could. As excruciating as it was, I was fortunate and grateful to feel his warmth until his very last moment. Faith is my only hope of believing he felt mine.
Callan died with enormous courage despite being so little. Maybe it was his way of demonstrating what I need to do to press forward. I’ll always try to draw inspiration from him. He’ll always be my little hero.
I want to share some thoughts about Lindsay. She’s recently been portrayed largely by people who have never met her and never knew who the real Lindsay was. Our marriage was wonderful and diametrically grew stronger as her condition rapidly worsened. I took as much pride in being her husband as I did in being a father and felt persistently lucky to have her in my life. I still remember the very moment I first laid eyes on her and can recall how overcome I was with the kind of love at first sight you only see in movies. It really didn’t take long before I was certain I wanted to marry her. We said “I love you” to each other multiple times daily, as if it were a reflex. We habitually started every morning with a passionate hug, yielding a sigh of relief like we had each received the perfect medicine. If too much time passed with out a hug, she’d look at me and ask, “did you forget?” We mutually understood the reality that people can have bad days, but we stuck to the rule that when one of us got lost, the other was always there to bring them home, always. She loved being a nurse, but nothing matched her intense love for our kids and dedication to being a mother. It was all she ever wanted. Her passion taught me how to be a better father.
I want to ask all of you that you find it deep within yourselves to forgive Lindsay, as I have. The real Lindsay was generously loving and caring towards everyone – me, our kids, family, friends, and her patients. The very fibers of her soul are loving. All I wish for her now is that she can somehow find peace.
I promise I’ll put all my energy into healing and rediscovering my purpose. I owe that to all of you, Duxbury fire and police, our compassionate healthcare workers, our local faith leaders, the Microsoft community, and especially Cora, Dawson, and Callan. I don’t know how or when I’ll be able to do it, but your love and generosity will help me get started. I know that love always wins.
Cora, Dawson, and Callan, you gave me so much in your short time here. I don’t know if the pain will ever go away, but I’ll do my best to carry on in your honor. Dada loves you so much and will always remember you.
I can’t tell you how much I admire Patrick Clancy. This is the strongest man I’ve ever seen, and I can’t stop thinking about him. I admire him because of his ability to forgive and love. I admire him for having the strength to write this in the first place. I admire him for not killing himself, which I would almost certainly want to do in his situation. I admire him for sharing with the world who his children were, and what their personalities were like, because they were people, not just cute faces we’ve seen on the news.
I’ve seen a lot of people say they don’t forgive Lindsay Clancy for what she did, but no one sought out your forgiveness in the first place. I was very happy to see that he has forgiven, because he understands how much his wife loved her kids, and he knows that the person who did killed his children was not the person he fell in love with. That is a real man.
There are a lot of people on social media blaming Patrick for leaving his wife alone with their children. Some have even suggested charging him. The people saying that will never be half the man Patrick Clancy is. He took a vow to his wife, and promised to stand by her through sickness and in health. This is an extreme sickness, and he can’t just abandon the person he loves more than anyone. That doesn’t mean he won’t some day divorce her, or that she shouldn’t be charged with a crime, but he cannot abandon her now in her time of need.
I’ve learned a lot of PPP that I didn’t know before. I’m blown away by the amount of mothers who empathize with Lindsay Clancy, despite what she did. A mother’s instinct is protect her children, and the last people who would be protecting a child killer would be mothers. Yet they are the most vocal group supporting her, which is a testament to how pervasive PPP and PPD are. I think a lot of these women are scared because they know that the only difference between them and Lindsay Clancy is luck.
I’ve never met Patrick Clancy, and I can honestly say that I can’t ever remember being personally affected by writing about a stranger. But I do feel personally affected by this story, it consumes my brain at times because I can’t avoid seeing it on social media. So the reason I’m writing this blog is because I want people who are in this same position to know that it’s normal to feel this way, especially if you have children of your own, and that you are not alone.
I found out that Callan passed away a couple hours before I was to appear on Timcast on Friday night and it shook me up. It was devastating, even though I did not know them, because I deeply wanted Patrick Clancy to have one remaining child who he could tell all about his brother, sister, and mother. I talked about it on the show.
It angered me when I turned on CNN as they spent the entire day memorializing a man in Memphis who was unjustly killed by police, while they ignored this story completely. It angered me that everyone in the country knew who Tyre Nichols was, but no one outside of Massachusetts knew who Cora, Dawson, and Callan Clancy were. It angered me that Joe Biden and Kamala Harris were tweeting about what an injustice his death was, even though the 5 cops who killed him were charged with murder, and urging people to protest. What problem were they looking to fix?
Meanwhile, the mental health crisis that has plagued our country kills more people than racism could ever dream of, and has actual solutions that could be implemented. If they wanted to your elected leaders could demand that something be done about the shortage of therapists, the lack of inpatient care, and the red tape that makes people not even bother seeking help. People will block a bridge and shut down a highway for a 29 year old man who was beaten by police, but they won’t protest on behalf of three murdered children whose mother never should’ve been able to leave inpatient treatment.
Two years ago today I had a panic attack and wanted to die. It was the most intense feeling I’ve ever felt, and I took a few weeks off from blogging because I couldn’t concentrate no matter how hard I tried. While I was dealing with this I couldn’t find a therapist. I went through my primary care and was given phone numbers for shrinks, but all of them either were booked or had issues with insurance. They sent me to group therapy where I had to list my gender pronouns and attempt to talk about really sensitive things in front of a bunch of strangers. It was a complete waste of time and finally I just gave up. How many other people have had to deal with that before hurting themselves or others? It should be unacceptable for a country as great as ours to operate like this.
It’s horrible that we live in a society where the only issues that ever get addressed are the ones that drive ratings and get people elected.
Last year we wrote a story about a 16 year old Hopkinton girl named Mikayla Miller, who was so alone and in need of someone to talk to that she walked into the woods, tied a belt around her neck, and choked herself to death. We published emails that Mikayla’s ex-girlfriend sent to her guidance counselor alerting her that Mikayla was threatening to kill herself, and yet nothing was done.
The media never wrote about this fixable breakdown in communication at Hopkinton High School, and politicians never addressed it. That’s because they were too busy spreading Monica Cannon-Grant’s baseless lie that Miller was lynched by 5 white teenagers. If she was just a 16 year old girl who killed herself no one in power would care. Her death was only useful if the cause of her death was racism, rather than mental health.
I don’t know if the fact that I have kids makes this story harder to read and write about, but I have looked at my children differently the last 5 days because of this. I look at them and I feel guilty that I get to experience the unspeakable joy they bring to my life every day, while Patrick Clancy does not. I can’t help but think how unfair this is, and how this man who seemingly was a great father was punished in the worst way possible.
I’m not one of these people who says “prayers up” on social media. I pray once a week at church because it’s the only place I have no other distractions, and I take it seriously when I do. I usually tell my kids what I’m praying for, but I couldn’t tell them this week because it would be traumatic to even explain how such a tragedy could unfold. They could never understand it. Then I think about how Cora, Dawson, and Callan likewise couldn’t understand what was happening to them.
I don’t know what should happen to Lindsay Clancy, but I don’t think shoving her in a cage for the rest of her life is the solution. I don’t know what will come of her or Patrick, but I’ll never stop thinking about and praying for their family.