A Day of Reckoning- Water

"Goodbye's (The Saddest Word)" by Celine Dion

http://youtu.be/OWHhx_svpBg

Six months has passed since I swallowed the emptiness of my first Mother’s Day in 22 years without my beautiful daughter. It took 9 months of carrying her in my womb, one morning in excruciating labour, and 21 years of joy embracing the love of my only child. Then…it took only 3 ½ minutes on a treacherous road to undo all of my dreams of Shayla’s future and set me spiralling into a world of profound loss.

I felt like a stray, left out in the cold, with no sense of refuge…exposed to a society, I was thrust further into the role of a bereaved mother. The sheer thought of being at home alone on Mother's Day was not an excuse; rather I could not stomach the notion of looking at my telephone, knowing Shayla would never be calling again. Once on-line, I looked for a place of stillness, bounded with Mother Nature. I found it in the area of Maple Ridge, B.C. The name was River and Rose Bed & Breakfast. When my partner arrived home, I announced to him that I would be going away for a night. No more words were needed as he could see the pain etched on a mother’s face.

Arriving at the B & B, I was greeted by Myra Ireland, who was my host. She showed me into the private suite that boasts a charming upstairs loft. She gave me a tour and once I saw the Jacuzzi tub for two, I knew where I was to soak my grief, later on. A private balcony welcomes you outside and overlooks the churning river and lovely garden landscape. I shared about the death of my daughter; eager for another mother to offer some comfort. Looking back, I know I spoke for a long time as I worked through my mourning; it was kind of Myra to take the time to listen.

I unpacked my things, almost methodically…with no sense or real purpose. Wrapping myself up with a sweater, I grabbed the pebbles of Shayla’s that I had brought. As it was nearing dusk, I reached for the flashlight and decided to take a stroll in the magnificent, outdoors brimming with lush trees and vibrant wild flowers. As I neared Alouette River, with the intense roaring of the waters, I braced myself for what I was about to do. I found a bench and settled in to the wood, creaking with my brittle, wearied frame. I looked at the time on my cell phone- 9:00 pm. After a few minutes, I took the pebbles and gently placed them on a mossy rock. Snapping a few pictures, I let the crisp air fill my lungs and I exhaled. Sitting back once again, I stared at the wild river gushing by my feet. I glanced at the time-9:15pm. This ritual was something I had to do on this Mother’s day. I was facing the reality of what 45 minutes feels like to someone in the water. This was the length of time that Shayla was in McKinley Landing Reservoir on December 12, 2011. I cannot explain it to any of you who maybe reading this; for no one can fathom such a moment of reckoning. I had to do this in order to reclaim my babygirl from those waters and start the long process of replacing the tragedy of that fateful day with the 21 years of memories I had built up with her.

One of my reasons for coming to this particular B & B was the chance to sit at the river and make peace with the frigid waters. I gazed at the flow of the river and as it grew darker, watched the red lights from a neighbouring house, flicker like a fire dancing atop the torrents. I sat in silence, with only my unimaginable thoughts racing through my mind. By 9:35 pm it was pitch black. I took my flashlight and shined it back and forth onto the river. Then I turned it on and off…the click-click sound, reminding me that without its light, I was in the midst of darkness. The means of access to the flowing rapids was to find a quantity of solace; to no longer loathe any source of water and blame it for my daughter’s death. It hardly seemed fair as Shayla, growing up, cherished the ocean, lakes and swimming pools; indulging in anywhere that saw her connect with the Pisces sign she was.

At 9:45 pm, I tossed the two pebbles from my daughter’s revered collection and with it freedom from the strife I had placed upon myself. I should have never been angry with the reservoir, rather those who were responsible for placing it next to a dangerous, winding road. It is a well-known fact that condensation rises up from the water and settles onto pockets of gravel on the sides of McKinley Landing Road, creating black-ice. There have been half- dozen accidents in the past several years that also saw people careen into the reservoir. No one died prior to Shayla and now, only after her life was sacrificed, is change FINALLY being done!

As I lingered on the bench, I wished for those responsible, to be sitting there with me as my body was wracked with sorrow. I wanted each of them to know how 45 minutes can feel like an eternity and how the sentence of loss was handed to me on that horrible day.

In the end, I chose to ‘forgive the waters and a part of myself’ as I live with survivor’s guilt at not being able to save my babygirl.

After sharing with Al and Myra Ireland about The Heart Pebble Movement, I was sent photos of them placing their own for Shayla at Cape Scott. The cause, much like Shayla’s legacy, carries on and on…

I am including a link to River and Rose B & B, as the owners have been kind to me in many ways, I am deeply grateful for. I highly recommend a weekend stay to indulge yourself in nature, and be pampered with extravagance. Another of the highlights is the scrumptious homemade breakfast that is served in your suite. My Mother’s Day saw a sliver of healing on what should have been my 22^nd celebration of the bond I will always share with my daughter, Shayla.

http://www.riverandrose.ca/

By T L. Alton

The Boardwalk of Friendship

Grief is hard on friendships, but it doesn't have to be. Sometimes, all it takes is a little honesty between friends. If we gently and lovingly explain what we need from the relationship during our time of grief, and what we are willing to do in return, we can turn even a common friendship into something special. -Margaret Brownley

During the past 10 and ½ months since Shayla passed away, I have felt the nurturing of friends, who are more like family. For each of them, there has been a window view of a mother mourning the loss of her child. Throughout this process, I have also ‘lost’ friends, who I feel have acquired an aren't-you-over-it-yet? outlook. Sometimes I have felt as if I have to defend my right to grief outbursts or my need for my space. Other times I can appear clingy or needy. The unrelenting heartache has left me with a newfound feeling of survivor’s guilt and anger towards a road long overdue for safety measures. For me, it is as if I have a tree of sorrow rooted in pain that is unending. To be my friend requires a delicate balance of care and patience. I may appear strong and all right, when the reality is I am wearing one of my masks for that day; while inside me the shadows of loss dance internally.

While I have a solid cluster of friends- who each will probably never know how much colour they have brought to my world of crippled darkness- there is one special friend that has literally stood beside me along the way. It is someone who I have known since Grade five.

Our friendship covers a span of over thirty years and has been tested a few times that I have lost count.

There are days that I wish we never had to share…like the one that saw me telephone my best friend Lori to tell her Shayla had died. Her two children had grown up like an additional pair of siblings to my daughter. Lori’s son and daughter were a part of our lives, in the school photos we shared, birthdays and Shayla’s 2011 University Graduation from the Human Service Worker Program. We had celebrated many joyous occasions and this one was on the other side of the spectrum…the loss of a child.

As the words left my thin drawn lips, I wanted to scream into the phone all my devastation.

Before long, Lori made the trip from her home in Salmon Arm to where I was staying at in McKinley Landing. I tried to express the hole in my heart; to try and come up with a different way to cry, but all I oozed was numbness.

Lori ‘moved in’ temporarily setting up an air mattress on the floor. While she slept, I gazed at the same spot on the wall and heard her deep breathing that gave me comfort. When I stood at the crash site, weak in the knees, it was Lori who was lifting me up. At Shayla’s Celebration of Life, the first person I affixed on was her. She stayed with me while I went through the motions.

For her Birthday this year, Lori and her daughter Melissa -or Missy, as I fondly know her by-embarked on a road trip to bring me back from Kamloops. We shared in a celebration that I was surprised I even wanted to be a part of. Yet as I bought a cake, presents for them both, it gave me a purpose. To see their joy made me feel good. Later, we went to the Pier at White Rock, BC as Missy was to release one of Shayla’s pebbles. As she threw it into the air, over the ocean, a seagull swooped down and caught the pebble in its beak. I frantically chased it until it finally dropped the pebble into the sea. Turning around, I saw the two of them bursting into laughter and I realized what a scene it must have been to watch me run after a seagull, flaying my arms.

This summer, both Lori and Missy helped me out with an event in memory of Shayla. It was a stressful time, full of much emotion for me. Missy shared with me that she wanted to get a tattoo as a tribute to her older “sister,” Shayla. I was moved beyond tears at this permanent mark of respect for my daughter. When I first saw the touching image, it made me realize my greatest loss was also this young girl’s to share in.

In September, I travelled back to Kelowna, to the area where I needed to be once again.

Shayla may have been gone, but she was not removed from my daily world of living.

I returned to McKinley Landing and on the second day of visiting, my best friend showed up with a pan of homemade lasagne, her last can of smoked salmon and a box of crackers… all comfort food for me. Miles always seem to separate us, yet when we are in each other’s company I feel like a teenager again. We took a trip into the city and lost track of the moment as we shopped. As I walked down an aisle, I spotted a stuffed animal from our era. It was Lambchop and when you squeezed the belly, it asked you a variety of over the top cutesy questions. Soon, Lori found me and we were in the throes of giggles. It felt good to laugh over something ridiculous. I walked out of the store with Lambchop because Lori could see how much it made me smile. We made another few stops in stores and had it not been for the items I was purchasing, I felt somewhat “normal.” In my shopping bag were an Angel, a framed sympathy card, and two bright foam letters: S.D. Lori would later remark that as she saw the lettering attached to the temporary roadside memorial, the words jumped out at her not only as Shayla Driver, but also SLOW DOWN!

The moments shared with Lori and spent in her company since Shayla’s passing have been instrumental in me being able to be myself with her.

During this time of me mourning, I have been blessed by many who instead of walking away, embraced me… even the shattered bits that I am now made up of. The elements of friendship get tested to the extreme when you lose a child. I have gone into a protective mode of not being as trusting as I once was. My brokenness; turning into another level of separation as I had to walk away from unhealthy relationships. My energy needs to be for myself now, and not chasing after those who should be the one’s making the effort. I do not take those for granted who have been in my corner. Although I could provide a list of friends who have gone the extra mile in caring and support; Lori is someone who I find myself standing with at all times, hand in hand. She is with me…at the place where Shayla’s car was submerged for forty five minutes under thick, frozen waters.  She lets the tears flow, and then supports me when I get angry at how in only seven weeks McKinley Landing Road will be fixed. Lori understands how I feel so lost inside, wondering endlessly WHY DID NO ONE ELSE IN COUNCIL STAND UP FOR CHANGES…YEARS AGO?? My best friend consoles me when I plead to an invisible force…If Only… She never stops believing in me and even when it has caused her anguish, Lori is the gift of family that I need.

Tonight, I came across a “Letter to a Friend” that sums up perfectly how I feel regarding my friendships, in general.

Dear Friend,

Please be patient with me; I need to grieve in my own way and in my own time.

Please don't take away my grief or try to fix my pain. The best thing you can do is listen to me and let me cry on your shoulder. Don't be afraid to cry with me. Your tears will tell me how much you care.

Please forgive me if I seem insensitive to your problems. I feel depleted and drained, like an empty vessel, with nothing left to give.

Please let me express my feelings and talk about my memories. Feel free to share your own stories of my loved one with me. I need to hear them.

Please understand why I must turn a deaf ear to criticism or tired clichés…

-Margaret Brownley

When Darkness Sings the Dawn

One of the moments of solitude that I have been graced with since Shayla’s passing, is in the form of Sendall Gardens. This sprawling 3.67 acre park sings it own praises in the many assorted flowers, tapered shrubbery and a variety of exceptional trees.

I recall taking my daughter to this place of splendour and us strolling along, inhaling the backdrop of Hydrangeas, clematis and lilies. Scattered throughout the landscape were secluded areas where we had taken the weight off our feet.  We encircled ourselves in the beauty of nature and looked up at the sky with lavender hues, to imagine the nightscape… full of brilliant stars.

Involving Shayla in my one of my favourite places was another connection I relished with my daughter. I thoroughly enjoyed her face lighting up, when she discovered something.

Returning to Sendall Gardens after losing her felt awkward…at first, almost out of place. I was uneasy and not sure how I would find the same comfort as before. I took light steps all around the area, listening to my footsteps on the crackling branches; echo the loneliness I suffered inside. It took a great deal of focus to give attention to my vivid surroundings. I sat at a wooden ledge by the creek, letting the top branches shelter me from droplets. I took in air blended with composted leaves. My eyes gazed upon the lush greenery with moss clambering the roots of trees. I wondered what hidden treasures lay at the base where I was. What raw materials were concealed amongst the layers of the forest, possibly waiting to be unearthed?

I emerged from my own secret garden and fell in love again with the park of Sendall. This is such a place, where the loss of a loved one finds serenity. An environment that sees the rays of sunlight filtering through the branches, while water flows in a constant state of smooth moving torrents that beckon you to gather nearby.

Nestled amongst suburbia, (just off 50 Ave in Langley, BC) are the grounds of the Botanical gardens. A pleasant addition is a greenhouse, filled with an assortment of tropical plants and flowers. One of the unique planters is an elongated piece of bark, filled with moist soil and packed with an array of succulents. Amidst the foliage are bursts of colour from the fusion of birds of paradise and 13 other exotic plants grown inside the greenhouse. There is also a wonderful tribute to what I refer to as “Bob’s Bench.”  This autumn, I have taken several people from my Grief Group and we have shared tears, stories and countless memories of our loved ones who have passed away.

It is my belief that I was first drawn to this extraordinary location because of its beauty. Now, I simply go there to rejuvenate my weary soul and as my hand settles into a particular area, I have come to know that as grief transforms my life, it can never rearrange the love I have for my sweet angel, Shayla.

By TL Alton

The Good Stuff ~ Music

I have learned the roughness of grief, is something that can have its pointy edges smoothed... by the calming melodies of song.  If I feel inundated with anguish, the first thing I reach for is a CD to bring solace back into my often chaotic world.

Last night, I attended -along with my partner- a concert. I am passionate about music as I am about my writing. Prior to Shayla’s death, our presence at a multitude of shows was  something I treasured. From country to rock, pop to folk infused with the blues, music uplifted me in many ways. My scrapbooks are filled with a variety of ticket stubs that displays my eclectic blend of artists I listen to.

Going to a concert with Shayla was like having your own one-woman powerhouse show, beside you. She would belt the lyrics out-loud, shake and shimmy, while woo-hoo’s were yelled out to the stage. Over the years, we made posters together to hold up and one night, my daughter’s dream of meeting a performer came true. We were seeing Jann Arden perform, with Shayla all revved up for the show. As Jann cracked jokes and eased the audience into a level of comfort that she was well- known for, she spotted my daughter, holding up a poster. Jann then called Shayla on stage and I thought my babygirl was going to trip, as she bolted front and centre. Jann engaged in friendly banter with my daughter and later signed a poster for her. Many locals saw Shayla and she was delighted when someone would say: “Hey, aren’t you the girl who met Jann Arden?”

 Over the years, we started a tradition that saw us connect, even when we were not together at a concert. Each one of us would ring up the other person and play a popular tune by the artist. I received random calls once in awhile, where all I could hear was screaming and distorted music in the background. I would then be reminded that Shayla was somewhere at a concert, singing her heart out and thinking of her momma.

Two days before she passed away, I was watching STING perform his endless hits. I could not get a hold of her, so I recorded parts of “Every Breath You Take and Roxanne, on my cell phone.” These were both of Shayla’s favourites.  I smiled, knowing that in only 2 weeks, I would see her in person and play the songs to her.

Life sometimes has a twisted way of taking something you revered and turning it into a catalyst of pain.  After Shayla passed away, I found these short clips on my phone and had a meltdown. She would never see or hear the words of stuff that mattered to us.

The first concert after she was gone, I found myself instantly reaching for my phone to call her. A lump seemed to be caught in my throat and then a sinking feeling overcame me. I had been robbed of these special moments, stripped of a bond between mother and child. It would take months for me to realize that I needed to focus on what I had with my beloved daughter and not spend wasteless time on what was no longer.

Yesterday, when I was at the Snow Patrol / Noel Gallagher concert, I closed my eyes a lot…I traded seeing the concert in order to “feel” it. Suddenly, the hit Chasing Cars began and I purposely grabbed my cell phone and started to record. I knew it would never be the same, as it was with Shayla. Yet, I seized the opportunity to do something in the present that still connected me to my past; to continue a tradition that evoked joy for Shayla and me.

One of the new songs I had not heard was called: “This Isn’t Everything You Are.” As Snow Patrol sang the words, I let the melody settle in to me. I was blown away by how it reminded me of my own unknown grief journey. The parts of losing time and there are strangers everywhere struck a chord. When Shayla died, people of authority had evaded my personal space. Strangers were standing in MY home, whispering amongst themselves or offering assistance. All I wanted to do was “keel over” and how one moment in time had imploded my world from the inside out. Yet, the possibility of help right at my fingertips was something I yearned for. On December 12, 2011, there was a woman Police Officer who said some private, heartfelt words that I continue to cherish.  While everyone else was standing over me, hovering, she kneeled by my side and her friendly face was also covered in tears. Offering her hand and a moment of compassion; made all of the difference when my heart was shattered into fragments.

With music, the beauty of endless meanings interrelates to those who listen to it. When I first heard this song last night, it was as if that very Officer was trying to let me know… “This Isn’t Everything You Are.” This meant that although this tragedy would forever be a part of my existence, death could not ever steal away, what Shayla and I shared.

By T L. Alton

“This Isn’t Everything You Are” By Snow Patrol

You’ve been up all night, and the night before

You’ve lost count of drinks and time

And your friends keep calling, worried sick

And there are strangers everywhere…

Don’t keel over now

Don’t keel over

And in one little moment

It all implodes

But this isn’t everything you are

Breathe deeply in the silence

No sudden moves

This isn’t everything you are

Just take the hand that’s offered

And hold on tight

This isn’t everything you are

There’s joy not far from here, right

I know there is

This isn’t everything you are…

Forever Young

"May the good lord be with you

Down every road you roam

And may sunshine and happiness

Surround you when you're far from home

And may you grow to be proud

Dignified and true

And do unto others

As you'd have done to you

Be courageous and be brave

And in my heart you'll always stay

Forever young, forever young

May good fortune be with you

May your guiding light be strong

Build a stairway to heaven

With a prince or a vagabond

And may you never love in vain

And in my heart you'll always remain

Forever young, forever young

And when you finally fly away

I'll be hoping that I served you well

For all the wisdom of a lifetime

No one can ever tell

But whatever road you choose

I'm right behind you, win or lose

Forever young, forever young" ~ Rod Stewart

The efforts needed to maintain a solid friendship is a labour of love. Shayla was loyal to the one person who had seen her through a myriad of changes; typical of a young girl, growing up. For Shayla, the other half of her care-free soul was her best friend, Chantel. The measure of their friendship was forged in secret codes, nicknames only they knew and adoration for everything Disney. While both in appearances were the opposites of each other; their capacity to dream big saw each one hold the other in reverence. Soft-spoken Chantel seemed to blossom off of the energy Shayla and her shared for almost 21 years of companionship. For these two girls, nothing limited them in pursuing their dreams and maintaining their friendship.

Growing up, they took the common things in life and made them adventures of the heart. Summer days were spent swimming at Wood Lake in Oyama, BC. They caught rays of sunshine together; while never holding back what teenage girl woes were bothering them. Often at parks such as Kaloya surrounded by Kalamalka Lake, they would swings off a tree branch, over the water.

After Shayla passed away, I found a video of the two of them, on a set of playground swings, with my daughter singing: “Swing Life Away”- by Rise Against. Their sweet innocence reminded me how no matter how much we grow up, a part of us sways to the rhythms of life- never too late to embrace the kid in all of us.

Last December, I found myself sitting across from Chantel, and reaching out to her I gathered what strength I had to give her something. This wasn’t an ordinary gift, rather one from the collection of Shayla’s Christmas presents that she would never open.

Since my daughter’s death, I have reached out to those who knew Shayla and saw another side to my child that she reserved for the closest of friends. Both Chantel and I have spent quality time together, immersed in stories of grandeur and silliness. The endless hours spent playing Disney Monopoly and tears shed over those who broken their hearts.

Earlier this year, Chantel and her mother Rene went to Wood Lake and placed several pebbles for Shayla. They stood together, a weight upon themselves in mourning the loss of the girl, who wanted to bring change to the world. For my daughter, Rene’s home was another place of refuge; where amidst the walls of Chantel’s bedroom, the genuineness of what they shared was sheltered.

As I write this, Shayla’s best friend and her family are in Disneyland. I received an email from Chantel asking where she and her mother could put some pebbles. This brought me grace in knowing they were thinking of my daughter at one of the happiest places on earth. I offered ideas and smiled, knowing amongst the spirit of old Walt Disney, a part of The Heart Pebble Movement is being carried on.

   http://youtu.be/yPvO3yXQshk

By T L. Alton

A World Not Divided

To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn)

There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn)

And a time to every purpose, under Heaven

A time to build up, a time to break down

A time to dance, a time to mourn

A time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together…

The Byrds (adapted from the Book of Ecclesiastes )

This posting is dedicated to those people who took part in The Heart Pebble Movement, earlier this year. Ironically, the location of pebbles from both ladies was in Hawaii. I find myself deeply connected with the Aloha spirit; where the magical place of tranquility and natural beauty draw me near. The air infused with scents of flora and fauna entices those seeking replenishment. It is where I found myself vacationing in splendor and the beautiful memories of Shayla, last February.

One of those who placed a pebble for my daughter was Diane. I had met her and her husband on the plane ride to Maui. She sent a photograph which had deep meaning for me. It was a snapshot of her Hawaiian lei in the form of a heart, with a pebble shaped in the same image. The lovely white moon seashell necklace was stunning. Tightly and intricately sewn in circular patterns are hundreds of white seashells connected to the Kukui nuts. These are an important symbol for the Hawaiian people, and were once used in ceremonial jewelry. The vivid image sent to me by Diane was a source of comfort and inspiration.

For those who have suffered the loss of a child, it seems the smallest thing can hold such deep meaning. The notion of someone in this world, capturing a picture of a pebble and taking the time to send it to me, is one I cherish as a true blessing. It takes the legacy of Shayla and links it to those whose distance does not matter. The Heart Pebble Movement sees people gathering stones, rocks and smoothed pebbles, uniting us and honouring the life of my daughter.

The other placement was of a small, rose quartz heart gem stone. A former classmate from College, Janay Babuin Funk, was on holiday with her family, in Hawaii. I received several brilliant photos of the pink stone. I have a larger one that belonged to Shayla and to see a smaller version on the black sand of a tropical paradise, replaced my strife with harmony.  Rose Quartz is connected to the heart and evokes self-acceptance, while enhancing all forms of love: self love, mother love, and kindness. By setting it upon the famous "black sand" beaches of Hawaii, such as Punaluu Black Sand Beach, and Kehena Beach, created instantaneously by the violent interaction between hot lava and sea water, it balances out, much like the yin-yang symbol. The divided part of the symbol gives a sense of continual movement of these two energies causing everything to happen.

As I continue to receive displays of honour for a life taken far too soon, I add to the collection of travelling pebbles.  I encourage people to join in the strength of this movement that sees a simple act of kindness continue to leave a ripple effect. Whether you reside in Africa or Switzerland, this cause is something everyone can do for a young lady who believed in hope; perching in the soul of all of us.   

My email is power2b@shaw.ca

I encourage those interested, to share The Heart Pebble Movement and lend their original ideas, along with compassion to a cause that links us all in healing.

By T L. Alton

The Butterfly Effect

“They seemed to suddenly come upon happiness as if they had surprised a butterfly in the winter woods.”  ~ Edith Wharton

In order to convey the passion of The Heart Pebble Movement, I feel the importance of sharing is key to its existence. *To fashion an inner story of our pain carries us into the heart of it, which is where rebirth inevitably occurs.

Although I spent nine days in Maui, I am going to dedicate this as my last entry regarding the tropical paradise I was immersed in. In my previous Blog titled: 9 Days of Tasting the Rainbow, I posted every day I was in Hawaii and therefore feel the need to move onward is important.  Although not wanting to appear redundant, I wish to share about another display of grace. This one instilled in me that my daughter was ‘with me in the spirit of aloha,’ the whole time.  

It had become a daily ritual to me to walk from my hotel to the stretch of beaches that went onward for miles. I felt as if I was searching for something. A piece of me clearly was missing and as I gazed upwards to the heavens, my feet felt as if sand bricks were tied to them.   During my stay, I had placed pebbles all over the pristine island in the pacific; yearning to leave the mark of a young woman who should have been at my side, snorkelling.

Growing up, Shayla`s constant evolving was much like a butterfly. The ancient Greek word for butterfly primarily means “soul or mind.”  My daughter`s emergence into this world saw her creating a legacy that saw her morph into a disposition of kindness, which companioned her thoughtfulness towards others. Always giving in nature, she reached out to those in need through her volunteering and effortless grace. Shayla`s need to fit in saw her do the exact opposite. She would dye her hair a multitude of colours, wear clothes from a thrift store which mirrored her own unique style. Shayla stood out without even trying and at the depths of the core of who she was; her gradual change brought forth new discoveries about herself.

As I settled into the warm sand, the tiny grains tickling my bare feet; I closed my eyes and imagined what it would feel like to hold my babygirl`s hand in mine. I envisioned her strands of burgundy hair, gently being caressed by the ocean breeze. The deep pools of blue glints in her eyes that saw her evoke such powerful emotions.  The sudden rush of tears came upon me and when I looked towards the sky, the vision of display before me left me breathless.

Appearing in the clouds was an unusual sight. Amidst the darkened clouds, was the clear image of a glowing, white butterfly. The wingspan overshadowing the seaside instilled in me that somehow from the “other side” my sweet angel was letting me know, she would forever be with me.

I cannot explain what I saw or rationalize the vibrant depiction over the pacific and I had no need to delve further into the matter. I know what I saw gave me hope; a desire to cling further to my faith and a need to carry onward. However, it lent itself to a theory known as the butterfly effect, which is the dependence on initial conditions, where a small change at one place in a nonlinear system can result in large differences to a later state. The name of the effect was coined by Edward Lorenz. It intrigued me, yet I smiled, knowing my observations were somehow meant just for me.

This experience and others I indulged in did not make me immune to strife; if anything it opened me up to it more and the unfolding of other beautiful stories.  Soon, I would discover The Heart Pebble Movement was only beginning to make its ripple effects known.    

By T L. Alton

*Quote by Sue Monk Kidd

Seaside Remembrance

Whether a visitor or kama'aina (resident), the beauty of the Hawaiian Islands inspires the heart and mind.  ~ Unknown

My time spent in Maui exposed me to layers of sadness that were interwoven with its beauty andunearthed to me on a daily basis. On my second day, I partook in a snorkeling/boat tour. This would prove to be a challenge as this was not just another day in paradise; this was Shayla’s 22^nd birthday- without her. I was not feeling well and did not want to get out of my bed, let alone prepare for an early boat/ snorkeling cruise. As I showered, the tears cascading down the drain, I trembled from the grief trapped inside. There would be no cake, no gifts and essentially, no guest.  I had opened a new door to walk thru, a trapdoor of emotions where I would spend my daughter’s birthday in 22 years, without my babygirl. I had booked a tour to spend most of the day underwater; appropriately so as then I could hide my crying.

Our first stop was to Molokini Crater, well-known for its clear water and incredible array of undersea life, including Milletseed Butterfly fish.  After I spent some time snorkeling at Molokini, the boat tour made a second stop at "Turtle Town" where I swam along with Hawaiian green sea turtles. These brilliant reptiles are endangered and carefully guarded, so they are not disrupted in their natural habitat. While coasting along in the pacific waters, we were given an extraordinary display of Humpback whales. These outstanding views granted us dazzling photo opportunities of these creatures and the majestic Maui coast. For the most part, I was doing well, that was until the Captain of the boat announced that two guests on board were celebrating…birthdays. He encouraged everyone onboard to sing not once, but twice, the stinging melody of Happy Birthday. I glanced over the boat, to see if it was possible to jump overboard. Not wanting to bring the others down, I chimed in while the whole time I wished for a tidal wave to sweep me over. Afterwards, the music was put on to blare through the speakers. The salty air settled into me and with emotions riding high, I was not prepared for the next thing to happen. As the song began to play, I burst into tears. It was one of Shayla’s favourites. A British group called “The Kooks” were introduced to my daughter thru my English boyfriend. The lyrics are about the sea and the melody is called “Seaside.” I simply could not hold it in any longer and wept openly.

Arriving back, I decided to take a stroll along the beach. I found a petite bit of coral that was heart shaped. During this time to myself, I had accepted that my grief was rooted and bound up in the love I had for Shayla. It was as if Mother Nature had opened my spirit and revealed to me forms of splendour that was always at my feet. Throughout the brilliance of being in Maui, I dispersed pebbles of Shayla’s in unexpected places. On this special day of remembrance, I have chosen not to share where I put everyone.

I ended the night by lounging by the moonlight at the pool and before I retired to slumber, I snapped a few lovely photos to remind me of this day. It was something of a hidden treasure to find I was graced with strength that I never believed I had. In the days to come, I would trust in the process unfolding and discover my beloved daughter was with me, in memories and always in my heart.

http://youtu.be/ZvR8tEi5x98

By T L. Alton

Between the Sand and Stone

Grief is an unusual companion to take with you on a vacation in paradise; yet in February of this year, I found myself on a trip to Maui, with sorrow as my guide.

Embarking on a solo journey that was meant for two is like winning the lottery and finding out you have a terminal illness at the same time. Death threatened to further inflict pain by thrusting me into a vacation from hell. How could I possibly go to a place where it was our dream as mother and daughter to travel together and be without the other half of my soul?

On the plane, there was no room for my weary body to rest; if for one moment I gave into the notion of relaxation then I knew a meltdown would ensue. I forced myself to stay awake and struck up a conversation with another Canadian couple, bound for tropical bliss.  I had with me a bear created by Shayla at buildabearville.com that she made for me years earlier. It had a pink ballerina dress on and my daughter had placed a plastic red heart inside. When you squeeze the left paw, it activates a recorder with Shayla’s voice tenderly saying to me: “I love you shoobie woop woop do woop.” This sentiment is something we shared ever since she learned to talk. As I spoke to this couple, the woman inquired about the bear. It led me to tell the personal grief journey of my daughter’s life and her tragic death.

I have learned in Grief Group that sharing is part of the healing process. For me, it really is not so much the need to heal, but to express that this person existed in this world and their legacy carries on. It is a two-fold process in which I have become a storyteller of Shayla’s existence. It has become my quest to weave a tapestry of words into tales of epic adventures we shared, her compassionate heart, and how this young woman of 21 yrs seized every opportunity life granted her.

I told these vacationers about The Heart Pebble Movement, while teardrops fell upon the teddy bear Shayla named, “Babygirl,” – my nickname for her.  I told these strangers sitting beside me, how this precious child changed my life in ways so extraordinary, that I had always felt she was an angel here on earth. My daughter’s waves of love came in forms of notes she would write for me on napkins, the lids of her finished yogurt and even scrawled on to the back of grocery lists. In January, upon packing her unfinished life, I found more of these sentiments, and became overwhelmed with emotions. Slumping against the wall, I tried to scream out the remnants of her death, but only silence clung to my fragmented heart.  For me, it is a necessity to express my grieving journey, as revelations of her untimely passing, had to be freed. I did not want to wear the mask of normalcy when the reality was my world was being tossed upside down. When explaining the pebble movement, I could sense this couple truly cared about the cause.  I told them of my plans to release over a half dozen of stones all over Maui, in honour and memory of Shayla. I expressed my hurt that this would be the first birthday in 22 years that I would not be sharing with her. Upon landing in Maui and leaving the plane, I knew my daughter’s imprint had been left behind.

This solo trip would find me facing many challenges; one being I am a directionally-challenged person and get lost in a parking lot. Now all alone on an island, I had to walk the path by myself, get on board shuttle buses and find my hotel. Yet, the minute I arrived surrounded by colorful lei’s and beams of sunshine, the first thing I did was breathe. I allowed the salty atmosphere to inhabit my fatigued body; a reminder that I was encircled by the stunning beauty of Hawaii.  

Checking into my Hotel, I threw everything down and changed into my bathing suit and a cover-up. Suddenly, my cheeks were wet once again from my tears…how could I have been in England only 4 days earlier with my partner and now I was in all alone in Maui? I went to the bathroom and splashed my face with water. Turning around, I knew I could not remain in the room, by myself…at least not yet.

Once outside, I checked the pool area and thought it may be a good idea to lounge around and relax. If anything I have learned since Shayla’s death is that an idle mind is not a good thing. I tried to focus on the how the rays of sun were lighting up my tired frame. Moments later, flashes of the hospital, cleaning out my daughters smashed vehicle and her Celebration of Life, were thrust to the forefront of my mind. I lingered for only 10 more minutes, jumped into the pool and decided to go for a walk. As I neared the beach, I was greeted with an exceptional view of nature’s wand spreading hues of lavender, yellows and tints of blue, across the skyline. I took off my sandals and let my feet dig into the sand that felt like a warm hug for your toes. I watched as the colour danced a waltz of fusion, spread across a Maui horizon. Soon, a wall of people had gathered and I would learn this was a nightly event; a free show of brilliance delivered in the sky we gazed upon.

Once the sun had set, I decided to walk. Much like Forrest Gump, I travelled miles-without a sense of purpose-I strolled over the main beach, then onto the next one and so on. Along the way, I saw couples wrapped around each other, where one person ended, the next one began immersed in rapture. There were children, full of glee as the waves tickled their feet and they chased after a next wave. I saw an old weathered man, leaning against a tree-seemingly not a care in the world. As I carried on, I searched for pebbles for my own collection. I found round, smooth ones, volcanic rocks and even an inuksuk, signifying “Someone was here.” As out of place I had felt, now amongst the sand and stones…I felt welcomed. As if the island had brought me here to be part of this incredibly painful journey, to participate in things that would alter my world in a healing way.

For those who have suffered the loss of a child, it is the discovery of grace and nature’s remedy, which can inspire comforting strength.  I would come to realize in my 9 days in Maui, the courage I needed to survive myself and this trip, would be found on the ocean floor of the Pacific.

By T L. Alton

The Broken Ones

“No, you don't know what it's like
When nothing feels all right
You don't know what it's like
To be like me
To be hurt
To feel lost
To be left out in the dark
To be kicked when you're down
To feel like you've been pushed around
To be on the edge of breaking down
And no one's there to save you
No, you don't know what it's like
Welcome to my life” ― Simple Plan

The chorus to this song by Simple Plan echoes the desperation of 15 yr old Amanda Todd. The teenager who resided in Port Coquitlam, British Columbia ended her life after years of struggling with being bullied both in school and on the internet. This fall, Amanda posted a video on YouTube:  My Story, Struggling, Bullying, Suicide, Self –harm. A month later, her life was taken. After her death, her video has been viewed millions of times.  This young girl`s heartbreaking cry for help sadly was unheard while she was still alive. Now, with her untimely death and the motivation behind it has sparked an outcry across the world. While many have been quick to point out her life was taken by herself, social media is the catalyst in which she met an early demise.

Amanda`s death resonated with me as it brought back terrible memories of my daughter`s life spent warding off the evils of bullies who were her own peers. Shayla was a larger than life girl in many extraordinary ways. The day she was born she was 10 1bs, 10 oz., she measured in at 2 ft long. When she was brought to me in the hospital, she was already wearing 4 month old baby clothing. Along with every ripple and large body, Shayla had a massive golden heart to match. She loved to make people laugh and it became her security blanket, when other kids picked on her for her bulky size.

I know now reading through her journals that my daughter encountered bullies from Kindergarten up until her 2^nd year of University. Never wanting me to worry, Shayla masked her pain with being the `class clown`…playing her role became as natural as breathing. I recall her coming home, her cheeks flush and stinging from the tears falling down. I always asked what was going on, but Shayla would shrug it all off. Then one day, I thought I would surprise her and go pick my babygirl up from elementary school. I parked and was waiting at the side of the road, when another mother came up to me and casually mentioned that even though Shayla was in Grade 4, she played with the kids in Grades 1 and 2, so that she was not teased by her classmates. My heart was crushed when I saw Shayla come from her class and immediately went to the younger kids to hang out with.  To this day, it angers me to think when I brought this to the Teachers and Principals attention, Shayla was blamed. She was a goofy kid, seeking attention and nobody wanted to play with as she went out of her to be noticed. Looking back now, I am thoroughly convinced that some of those in authority were just as much as to blame as the bullies! My child was called fatty, stinky, ugly, a weirdo. She hid so much thinking it WILL get better…It HAS to she wrote.

In High School, a mentor to Shayla would find her curled up under his office desk, bawling excessively and let her be as he knew this was her `safe place.`  The bullies were now bigger, more threatening and had means of social media to menace their victims. The caustic, primitive words of elementary were now replaced with slut, stench, hideous and freak.

Upon going to University, Shayla was thrilled with the new beginnings. She believed life would be different, while her peers more accepting. Finally she would find a sense of companionship with those she would share classes. The first time I received a desperate call from my daughter, I wanted to get into my car and demand the bullies to stop. It was only a handful of girls, yet they were putting a vulnerable, young girl through hell! If, miles away I felt helpless, who knows how much misery Shayla was enduring? Since she was living in a tiny jail-like dorm room at university, it was as if that area became her cell. Only after her death, did I find out the true degree of what occurred that first year. I don`t think those responsible for the tormenting realize the pain they caused her, but the glaring words in her journals reflect a girl masking the pain, by putting up walls and being `mouthy` back to them.  Shortly after Shayla passed away, I acquired her laptop. The poetry and images expose the ugliness of bullying for what it is- a cat and mouse game, in which the mouse is already caught in a mousetrap, while the cat evilly tortures the wounded victim. While all of this caused me a great deal upon my grieving, I also found something that made me realize that try as they might to take away Shayla`s care-free spirit, they had failed miserably! I have numerous video footage of my daughter in her white washed dorm room, singing songs of empowerment! In the many videos, her voice fills the corners of her tiny room. I started to cry when I saw my babygirl as I was overwhelmed with her again in motion. Then my heart burst with pride seeing the tank top she was wearing. When Shayla had come for a visit, she fell in love with my shirt. I gave it to her and it is the one in the videos, my daughter is wearing.  The front of it expresses everything Shayla stood for what she believed: `PEACE, LOVE HOPE. `

The sad irony of the bullying case of Amanda Todd is this beautiful young, girl-who no one noticed before- is now a name spoken across a nation. For in life, her haunting word’s I HAVE NOBODY, I NEED SOMEONE, is contradictory to how now she has the world`s attention…

I offer my heartfelt sympathies to Amanda Todd’s family and friends; no words can convey the unimaginable loss all of you are feeling.

I Dedicate this song to those who FEEL ALONE, in hopes that others REACH OUT to let them know they are Not Alone!

 Dia Frampton - The Broken Ones: https://youtu.be/Zz04teo1j9k

 By T L. Alton

You Must Be the CHANGE You Want to See in this WORLD ~ Gandhi