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