New Henrico community honors legacy of 'unstoppable' Britlyn

As Cindy and Harry Weinstock were awaiting the birth of their first child, they spent almost every free moment discussing the baby's name.

When poring over the standard books of names didn't yield any they could agree on, they began to pause at the edge of playgrounds, listening carefully for a name that inspired them. Finally, just days before Cindy's Jan. 1997 due date, the couple gave up on finding a name they both loved – and decided to make one up.

Although Cindy's pregnancy had been normal, her labor revealed that something was amiss with the baby. Tests pointed to a major brain abnormality, and doctors ordered an emergency C-section. The parents-to-be were warned that it was doubtful the baby would survive delivery.

Even after tiny Britlyn beat the odds and was born alive, she was still in peril, facing even-more-dangerous surgery the following day to relieve pressure on her brain. It was the first of many surgeries and intensive care unit stays that she was to endure.

While her survival was uncertain throughout her early months, all the specialists involved in her care agreed on one thing: that she would never walk or talk and would likely spend her very short life in a vegetative state.

But as her parents will tell you, "They didn’t know Britlyn!"

Despite significant cognitive, hearing, vision and mobility problems, and the need to use a wheelchair and walker, Britlyn defied the doctors' predictions and went on to enjoy life.

"While progress was very slow and there were numerous setbacks," say her parents, "Britlyn proved to be unstoppable."

They recall that although she never crawled, she found a way to maneuver by "rolling herself around the room." And while her speech may have been delayed, she eventually began to talk.

As her parents put it, "Some would say she never stopped once she started."

Love and connection
Among Britlyn's passions as she grew up were music, dining out, and going to school – especially when she got to Glen Allen H.S. An ardent fan of Disney characters (especially Mickey Mouse), she loved nothing better than vacation trips to Disney World.

When Britlyn's sister, Leah, recalled the theme park trips in her senior speech in February, she noted how people are always amazed to learn that the family never had to stand in Disney's legendary lines. Because Britlyn used a wheelchair, they had a special pass that allowed them to jump to the front.

"But for everything that eight-year-old me thought was great about having a wheelchair in the family," Leah says, "there were 10 things that made each of those things not worth it."

One of the worst things about having physical or mental challenges, Leah pointed out, is the unfortunate tendency for people to see a person as a diagnosis, disease, or disorder. "You're the kid with autism or Down syndrome," she says. "You're no longer funny, kind or a friend."

From an early age, it saddened Leah to observe the way so many people saw Britlyn as her disability – because she was so much more.

"My sister," she said in her senior speech, "is one of the kindest, most loving, compassionate individuals I've ever known."

In 2017, Britlyn was admitted to the hospital for a stomach issue that was thought to be minor, but turned out to be life-threatening. Despite surgeries and a valiant fight to survive, she passed away at the age of 20 – just months shy of her high school graduation.

"When I remember my sister, I don't remember her wheelchair or her disability; I remember her love and my connection with her," Leah says. "Her passing was easily the worst darkness I ever have or will experience."

12 lessons
In her remarks at the funeral, Britlyn's friend Caroline Sindelar outlined a dozen lessons she had learned from her – one for each year of their friendship.

From the time they met as second grade classmates at Echo Lake E.S., Sindelar said, Britlyn was teaching her about qualities like courage, positivity, and love.

"When I think of her, one of the first words that will always come to my mind is brave," Sindelar said. "Through highs and lows, she would never give up."

Because of the way Britlyn faced challenges head-on and "put her stubborn mind to it," Sindelar went on, she inspired others around her to be brave as well. "I can only hope that one day I will have half the courage that she showed every day," she said.

Among other lessons from Britlyn that Sindelar shared were to "dream beyond your boundaries, make time for people you care about, and build community around you."

"Britlyn wanted to spend quality time with people. And she let you know that," said Sindelar. But when Britlyn made a friend, she didn't just embrace the one person – she embraced and cared about the entire extended family. She wanted to see pictures, and to invite other family members (like Sindelar's mother) along to events and excursions.

"Britlyn and her family faced so many ups and downs, but through all of these experiences, Britlyn was reaching out to others," Sindelar said. "Just look at all of you here, today! We have all, in some way, been touched and influenced by Britlyn's caring and genuine heart . . . thus becoming part of hercommunity."

Britlyn also believed in the power of physical touch, said her friend, listing "hug a lot" and "hold hands a lot" as lessons 10 and 11. "What I will forever hold on to is seeing her in the hospital and feeling her hand tighten around mine," Sindelar said. "She was reminding us that we would be okay, and that she will always be there to take our hand, and never let us walk alone."

When she came to lesson number 12, "love hard always," Sindelar described Britlyn's passions for music, swimming, goldfish, strawberry ice cream, and more – but most of all, for her family, friends and teachers.

"The most important thing I have learned from Britlyn is how to love better," Sindelar said. "Britlyn is the purest definition of what it means to love.

"She loved so wholeheartedly . . . without boundaries and without limitation."

Namesake community
Today, Cindy and Harry Weinstock say that tributes like Sindelar's and the community "outpouring of love and support" played a vital role in helping them to survive the devastation of losing Britlyn. Her school sponsored a night in her memory (and that of another classmate who died shortly after Britlyn), and she was recognized in a special ceremony that spring at what would have been her graduation. The Weinstocks were especially touched by the many cards and thoughtful gestures from Britlyn's classmates and teachers.

But the tributes to Britlyn were only beginning.

In their neighborhood of Springfield Farm, a grassy cul-de-sac area was turned into a memorial garden. Through the efforts of a Girl Scout troop and a neighborhood teen working on his Eagle Scout project, the area was landscaped and furnished with a trellis and bench. Stepping stones winding through the grass were labeled with Britlyn's favorite things, from sweet tea to Mickey Mouse – and her dog's paw print.

One neighbor lit the street with luminaries a few days after Britlyn’s passing on Nov. 30. On the street named Britlyn Court, another neighbor sent the Weinstocks a picture of a beautiful sunset framing the street sign.

The latest Britlyn tribute evolved out of the real estate development company Cindy Weinstock launched shortly after Britlyn passed, with support from several colleagues she has worked with for years. Legacy Land Development's newest project, a partnership with a father-daughter team of developers, is a 55-plus community located on Staples Mill Road.

In a populous, well-developed area like suburban Richmond, it can be tricky to come up with a development name that is unique and original. But the Weinstocks did not have to agonize over naming the project, as they did with their firstborn. In short order, the community was christened "Britlyn North."

The sign for the development incorporates the same granite that Britlyn loved in her home's kitchen counters (and which graces her tombstone as well). Dancing across the top of the sign are several musical notes, representing her appreciation for music – in Britlyn's favorite color of red.

The finished development will include an area to be named Britlyn's Garden, and will include raised planting beds, fire pits, and a picnic area. It already includes streets named “Gracie Lane” and “Gracie Court” in memory of Britlyn’s best friend and classmate, who passed away five years before Britlyn.

Every wall in her bedroom was dominated by pictures of her family and friends, her parents say.

"But the one that she insisted had to be on the table, right next to her bed, was of Gracie."

While Cindy Weinstock says that seeing the sign evokes "bittersweet" emotions, it's unquestionably a comfort to the family – and to others who knew Britlyn – to see her name live on. Recently, one of Britlyn's teachers that she particularly adored was riding down Staples Mill, spotted the sign, and promptly ordered her husband to pull over and take her picture with it – which she sent to the Weinstocks.

As Caroline Sindelar made clear, however, Britlyn's legacy is more than a sign or a name.

Sindelar, whose vocation as a special education teacher was inspired by her friendship with Britlyn, noted in her eulogy that the lessons from Britlyn did not end when her life ended.

Because of Britlyn, Sindelar said she would always look for the sweetness in life (lesson 8), and remember the way "Britlyn exuded the sweetness that this world needs in every single thing she did."

Britlyn's legendary love of sweet tea, said Sindelar, was perfectly logical because "tea, without the sweetness, is nothing more than flavored water. Just like life, without sweetness, is nothing more than flavored breathing."

The list of lessons from Britlyn, Sindelar summed up, would never end – "because Britlyn will never end. She immeasurably changed my life.

"May we always carry her with us, may we always feel her guiding us, and may we always remember the gift we have in loving our sweet Britlyn."