DUXBURY, MASS. (WHDH) – The husband of a Duxbury woman who is facing criminal charges in connection with the deaths of her three children is speaking out amid an outpouring of support from the community.
In a statement on a GoFundMe page, Patrick Clancy wrote:
“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.
With love and endless gratitude
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