I put a cup of lukewarm tea on the table in front of my toddler Reef.
He sipped it, beaming.
“You’re like a little old man,” I smiled.
Reef was the youngest of my three boys and unique.
He weighed a whopping 4.35kg at birth and grew fast. By six months, he was 12kg.
He was such a sweet-natured gentle giant. He loved hugs, his teddy and playing trucks.
When I split with my partner, Jason, the boys and I moved to a lovely three-bedroom rental. Reef, 22 months, had his own room with a bed and chest of drawers from my old bedroom suite.
One Tuesday, I put the boys down for their usual nap.
A couple of hours later, I woke Malaki and Chase.
They trailed behind me as I went to rouse Reef.
Mum, Skye pictured with Malaki, Reef and Chase.
As as I walked in his bedroom, I saw the chest of drawers had toppled over. Reef was on his right side, pinned underneath.
He wasn’t moving.
“Reef!” I screamed.
I don’t know where I found the strength, but I lifted the chest off him. It weighed a ton.
He wasn’t breathing, but he was still warm.
“Dear God, don’t let him be…” I choked, starting CPR.
I couldn’t finish the sentence.
Nothing happened. Reef was laying lifeless beneath my pounding palms. My whole body felt like it was screaming in grief.
When the paramedics arrived, they rushed him to the ambulance. My landlord looked after the boys as I followed behind.
At the hospital a huge team of doctors and nurses surrounded him.
They tried everything and continued CPR.
He was still limp.
Finally, I couldn’t watch my little boy being pummelled and prodded anymore.
“Stop!” I sobbed. “He’s… dead.”
The day after Reef’s death, WA police filmed a video demonstrating just how easily the heavy tallboy could topple.
I picked him up, hugged him tightly and wept until they came to take him away two hours later.
The police told me he’d been knocked out by the falling drawers and then suffocated. He must have gone to get out some clothes and climbed up on it, toppling it over.
At his funeral, his brothers scribbled and drew on his white coffin and I dressed him in a little white tuxedo. He looked so handsome.
I asked mourners to bring a teddy in his memory and we donated over 100 to the Princess Margaret Hospital for other kids.
About four months later I met my new partner, James and we had a little boy, Hunter, one.
I was overjoyed, but it was bittersweet.
“He’ll never know Reef,” I sobbed.
L-R Malaki, Reef and Chase.
After the accident, my sister Dee had discovered there were an assortment of cheap bolts at DIY shops for fixing heavy furniture to walls.
A simple bolt costing less than $10 would have saved his life.
Together, we started a Facebook page called Bolt It Back For Reef.
The page has information on where to get the bolts and how to fix them. It also calls for a change in rental law so landlords can’t prevent tenants from bolting back their furniture.
I’m on a mission now to make sure every mother in Australia knows about these bolts.
After all, a hole in the wall can be fixed, but a hole in your heart can never be repaired.
As told to John Parrish
