When my daughter, Kayla, passed away at the age of 22 I was forced to plan her funeral – something I never imagined I would be doing. I’m not the most traditional person, so it was difficult to get my head around the formalities that were being suggested for the day.
I remember when the day came, a feeling came over me that something was off, so I spoke with my children, Jody and Ericka, Kayla’s younger siblings, and said, “something doesn't feel right.” I then decided to ‘host’ Kayla’s funeral service myself – I basically hijacked the whole service!
Kayla’s life
Kayla was diagnosed early in her life with autism spectrum disorder, Asperger’s and hypertonia (which is too much muscle tone). She was non-verbal and incontinent, she had the mental capacity of an 18-month-old baby.
Kayla was also born with a non-cancerous brain tumour only to find out at the age of 17 it had turned cancerous and was the size of a lemon. She was diagnosed with stage four Glioblastoma and we were told it was terminal.
Kayla
I was Kayla’s full-time carer during her short life – bathing her, clothing her, feeding her, changing her nappies, and at the end of her life providing palliative care.
Despite her various conditions, she was able to understand colours, objects, movies, songs and jokes.
Music was a useful tool for me in caring for Kayla and I would dance around in front of her, pulling faces, doing cheeky moves, nonverbal comedy basically. I would deliberately kick my toe and pretend to hurt myself, I would talk to her in a comical manner and change my voice, throw plain flour all over myself and make different sounds.
I would tangle my hair in a brush until it was knotted, dress up and role play and place clean nappies on my head and sing the nappy song. I did all of these things for her because at times her conditions would take a toll on her - I wanted to turn her tears into laughter every day of her life.
Despite the hard days that came every now and then, Kayla loved to live life and she could be extremely cheeky at times. I dare say if she didn’t have disabilities and brain cancer, she would have been a stand-up comedian herself. Kayla had a thing for farting and laughing until she was in tears. She loved to steal food out of the fridge and the fruit bowl, taking bites and putting the food back in its place. She loved doing high pitch squeals in shops and other public places in a bid to scare people.
While she couldn’t speak, she had smiling eyes. Each day I look in the mirror I see her eyes, my little shadow.
Kat pictured with her daughter, Kayla
My move into comedy
When it came time to speak at Kayla’s funeral, I didn’t want people to cry, I wanted them to laugh.
I spoke honestly about the reality of caring for her and told stories of how Kayla would profusely vomit up all over the house, to the point my partner and his friend would be throwing up on the grass out the front. Kayla would laugh so much at this spectacle she would have tears in her eyes.
No nappy change was ever the same with Kayla. Some days I would walk into her bedroom and it would look like a forensic crime scene and I would have to dress her again from head to toe!
With just one sentence, I was able to provide people at the funeral with happy tears and laughter as we remembered beautiful Kayla and the huge impact she had on others. I did what Kayla would have expected me to do.
I received such good feedback from those in attendance that I came to the realisation after Kayla’s funeral that I should pursue comedy as a profession.
When I look back at my life, comedy has always come naturally to me. From a young age, I would make up fascinating stories and tell them in front of class, or to my friends and family. I was definitely the class clown, I would play pranks on teachers and students – which of course led to detention.
Her humour, despite her struggles, was priceless - it gave me the strength and courage to keep going.
After Kayla’s funeral I started posting one-liner jokes on social media. Throughout the earlier stages of the COVID pandemic I studied comedy and did online courses, which I found very therapeutic. I have written a book called ‘One liners by an amateur stand-up comedian’. My next step is performing live on stage, using my life experiences, adding that twist of humour and imagination. I also do a lot of non-verbal comedy in Kayla's memory, I want to make sure everyone can enjoy my comedy.
Kayla’s legacy
Kayla taught me that there is a place for humour in disability care, trauma and palliative care. It can have huge beneficial effects to help deal with pain, either mentally or physically.
I believe my comedy is a gift, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I am now utilising it because of Kayla and what she went through. Her humour, despite her struggles, was priceless - it gave me the strength and courage to keep going. How she handled herself, and the humour we shared, has helped me with my grieving process and to heal.
