Resonating the Transformation of Grief

While most people may have been worrying about the end of the world, I was wrapped up in remembering the one day when my everyday life with Shayla came to an end. Today marks one year ago I stood amongst my daughter’s family, friends and loved ones to give the Eulogy at her funeral.  I chose to honour my babygirl with a Celebration of her Life, to capture the essence of who my daughter was and convey the brilliant legacy she left behind.

There is a quote that best echoes my feelings right now…

They say that from the instant she lays eyes on her, a mother adores her daughter. Whoever she grows up to be, she is always to her mother, that little girl in pigtails…. She makes her feel like Christmas. In exchange, she keeps a secret promise not to see the awkwardness of her teenage years, the mistakes she makes or the secrets she carries…for these qualities are priceless and only seen in the bonds of motherhood. ~UNKNOWN

Ask anyone who has lost someone they loved about time standing still. For me 3:42 are numbers etched onto a heart now stitched with mourning. This number matters only to me as I continue this path of “if onlys.” Shayla was a reflection of me and now that the mirror is shattered, I have to answer to myself…no longer can I count on her.

I have tried ceaselessly in my dreams to stand at Heaven’s gate and demand to know what my lot in life is.  My feet have waded through snow covered hillsides, searching for my daughter, yet all I find is stillness. My words are weighed down like pebbles in a stream, the flow of water taking along with them …my emotions.

On this one year mark, the deep questioning continues, but what remains steadfast is my faith.  I have never blamed God for taking my only precious child, nor have I asked, “Why Me?”  What I have done is to be the voice of Shayla, silenced on December 12, 2011. I have done this without my own family present in my life, as I considered myself an ‘orphan’ long ago. I have stood up, when others expected me to crumble and I made sure that everyone who possibly could know my daughter’s name certainly did.

After Shayla was killed on McKinley Landing Road, I had a choice…to simply walk away and do nothing, grieve in silence and possibly become bitter inside or to campaign for change, making that stretch of road safer for others. My objective is to prevent future tragedies from occurring and assist those who have also suffered the death of a child. My beautiful babygirl lived such a vibrant life; her positive ways impacting those in her own community. If I hold onto only regret, I would be consumed by the same iniquity that has wormed its way into the roots of my own family.

The decision to be better even while in the throes of despair has not been an easy journey. Yet I have taken the gifts given to me in the form of a extraordinary daughter and weaved my own loss into the writing I share here.

Today, as I muddled thru, I was searching for a sign that some way, somehow Shayla was with me…if only watching over me. After speaking with my best friend in Alberta, who knew how hard this day would be on me, I decided to go into town. This was not an easy thing for me to do and I was reluctant to enter stores smothered in holiday debris. Upon entering a local business, I found myself with an empty basket, floating aimlessly down each aisle with no purchases in sight. Suddenly, I realized I was in the toy department and I started to look for the way out. It was then I was approached by an older lady, who had a little boy tucked into a cart. She whispered to me, “Could I ask you a big favour?” I hesitated to even answer, but then noticed her pointing to a stack of packaged toys on a shelf. “I am going around the corner and when I distract my little grandson, can you please put these presents for him under the cart?” In an instant, I felt my heart over come with warmth and a smirk on my face; I gave her a wink and nodded in agreement. I would help a grandmother with her secret shopping. Abruptly, my thoughts went back to one of my all time favourite holiday shows: How the Grinch Stole Christmas and the part where he hands out the presents to the people of Who Ville. This was exactly how I felt as I do not have a tree or presents, baubles, stockings or wreaths. It was as if Shayla was a heavenly Cindy Lou Who, smiling from above and letting me know that Christmas in whatever form, would always remain in my heart.

By T L. Alton