Monday, July 27, 2015

The Fixtures of Our Lives



“A house with old furniture has no need of ghosts, in order to be haunted.”― Hope Mirrlees

Last month, I held a sale to rid myself of things that at times- over the years- I wanted to set ablaze and watch the memories burn along with the items. However, it was in my moments of clarity… that not all dire recollections were coupled with the things, I had to get rid of.
In gathering my stuff and pricing it, I allowed myself to soak in the reminiscing of what was ingrained in my personal belongings. The first thing to go was a breakfast tray that once held moments of love, placements of laughter and was used by others that hold no bind to me, any longer. 

Next, I wanted to sell something that stirred up a great deal of emotion. Since moving to the Island, I could not bring myself to sit at my own dining table. Rather, I would stockpile it with an array of literature, scrapbooking material and leaflets for places; I am bound to travel to. There is something about the solitude that creeps into the mind when one is sitting alone at a table for four. It’s as if a chess game would unfold before me and each piece of the player would get knocked from the board, leaving only a queen surrounded by an empty throne. 



As I wiped the chairs one last time before the sale, I let the memories imparted in the fixtures, settle in the compartments of my mind. The table had served me well, over the years. I gave permission to recall the dinners held upon it- the Thanksgiving where friends had joined us in merriment, the years of Christmas’s that graced the plates of food connected to treasured recipes. My mind wandered to the cards that had been placed on the table, with wit and verses written inside of Hallmark sentiments. I lingered on the presents swathed with gift-wrap, vibrant streamers and funky bows. My emotions were brought to the surface as I summoned up thoughts of how at the table, I had planned the whirlwind Disneyworld adventures that Shayla and I would embark on. A poignant moment came when I was reminded of when I had prepared a surprise birthday celebration for my former boyfriend- how I had worked hard to earn the money for our two tickets to Hawaii. Over time, the table had placed on it, an array of rocks- Rose Quartz, Labradorite, Jasper and Agate, plus many more unique pieces added to the separate collections of Paul, myself and Shayla. There were the times when our scrapbooks were lovingly made on the surface of it, with an assortment of photographs chosen for the endless pages, we created together. 

Suddenly the wallop of feelings proved to be too much and the yin- yang part of my mind, imploded with the darker side of also what the table, had thrust upon it.
On December 12, 2011, it was my clenched fists that were smashed on top of the table when Shayla died. Since that day, my body had been heaved upon it, as a river of tears was poured onto the warm tan surface. My sobs- echoing back at me- that I would not hold my daughter in my arms again, here on earth. The table spins me round, as I feel the pools gather in my weeping eyes… I acknowledge this selection of furniture, once held Shayla’s Coroner Report, her Death Certificate and Autopsy. Papers burned into the memory of a bereaved mother-praying for the floor to open- and let me fall straight through. 



This fixture of my life had a flip side to it. It is where I decided to end my six year relationship, amidst betrayal, heartache and sorrow. There had come a day when I grew tired of comparing my scars to his and in packing my things, I realized I had left ‘emotionally’ a lot earlier. Later, it would be the surface of the table we would sign paperwork and embrace through tears, one last time. The table saw us exchange the hurts and losses, while a flurry of apologies came across it, from his lips of remorse. One year passed, when I came back for my belongings, he had stored for me. I returned to face the man who I gave more than my heart to. My soul once entrusted with Paul that was crushed, would fill with the forgiveness I would grant him and who still remains in my prayers. 



Finally, as I departed from him-with my broken wings in tow-the table made its way out of the cage, I once felt bound in. 



More tears would fall upon the table, most recently with the presence of two people who sat around it. Although in human form, they appeared as shadows to me- an outsider always looking in- these strangers could not grasp the precious gift of words they had held in their hands…one last time. 




As I ran the cloth over the table top, I knew in this moment to finally let go of all that was attached to it. 

After it was sold, I took awhile before I purchased another one. I found myself in the Habitat for Humanity ReStore, where I reside.  Habitat for Humanity is an international, non-governmental, and non-profit organization, which was founded in 1976. Habitat has been devoted to building "simple, decent, and affordable" housing, a self-described "Christian housing ministry," and has addressed the issues of poverty housing all over the world. The mission statement of Habitat for Humanity is "Seeking to put God’s love into action, Habitat for Humanity brings people together to build homes, communities and hope."

This is one of the reasons I was drawn into the Habitat for Humanity ReStore in my community. It felt right to make a purchase where it helps others in need. I was looking around, when I spotted the ‘perfect table’ for me. It was a high desk that I envisioned for my photography Notecards I create and the scrapbooks I have been making; put together with my love. It is also a place where I can sit at and enjoy a meal- being as it isn’t a traditional table-there is only one seat, which is reserved for me. It has slide out shelves, two spacious cubby holes and mostly… it does not have anything connected to my past, in a painful way. I did ponder to think how maybe just like me, someone decided to part with their times of yore and move onto something new.



I was reminded of how our lives are a constant surge of change…like pebbles gathered on grains of sand… the vagabond remnants of my rugged heart, shifts in many directions.

I may have parted with fixtures of my life, yet with pensiveness incited by love and loss, my endurance comes within the folds of my faith. 

By TL Alton



Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Varekai



We who have lost loved ones through sudden accidents find ourselves scouring our memories for portents. Were there any clues, any indicators that something terrible like this might happen? If we can find them, perhaps they inject a measure of meaning into a life thrown into chaos. On some subconscious level did our loved one know?~Martha Whitmore Hickman

Life is Grand, happiness all around, the beauty of the world in my heart, I feel like I’m evolving like a gorgeous butterfly, my destiny in the horizon 
~ Shayla Driver 

The words above my daughter spoke were told to me when we were on a trip of a lifetime together- in Disneyworld…only five months before Shayla died. This vacation would be the last time I saw my daughter alive, as she resided many miles away from me. 
 While in Disneyworld, we went to see “La Nouba” by Cirque Du Soleil. The anticipation was on a bigger scale for Shayla who was a performer, having danced for seven years. While the colours exploded across the bodies of eclectic characters on stage, something pulled at me to watch my daughter’s reaction and absorb the moments of glee, etched into her smiling face. As I write this- the memory of Shayla is clear in my mind- mouth open in awe of the magnificence, playing out right before her big, blue eyes. 

Shayla made sure to purchase several souvenirs to commemorate our special time together; amongst the items was a mask that is connected to Cirque Du Soleil. I recall her excitement of putting the unique mask on and walking out into the streets of Disney, after the show. It wasn’t long before a security guard came over and requested her to remove the mask from her face. Perplexed, she inquired why? He answered firmly due to security policies in Disneyworld, there were no masks of any kind allowed.  While his answer was within reason, my daughter was miffed at his reply and proceeded to ask: “Is there anything stopping me from wearing it on the back of my head?” The Security guard amused answered:
“No ma’am, there is not a policy forbidding you to wear your mask, on the back of your head.”
The backside of Shayla's ingenuity
Within seconds, Shayla whipped off her prized souvenir and gave a smug smile. Attaching the mask to the back of her head, she proudly sauntered off, with me trailing behind her trying to hide the laughter. If you knew my daughter, then this would not come as a surprise, as she often questioned many things that mystified her.  

After her passing, I saw a variety of Cirque Du Soleil’s artistic shows. Each time, there always came a moment where what was playing before me, was not what was reflected in my heart. As my mind brought me back to watching Shayla’s face light up with the true spirit of a performer, there has not been anything to even compare to it. 

This past May, as I drove to work, I saw the advertising for Cirque Du Soleil’s Varekai. I knew I would be getting a ticket for the upcoming show. 


This would be my first time to see Cirque perform, without anyone going with me. After some struggles with being alone, this past February is but a bad dream. While there are times I miss the only family I ever had with Shayla, I have to remind myself of the 21 years, we were blessed to have together. Now, I anticipate the beauty in being able to take my time with things that visually inspire me. On the hikes I go on, there is no pressure to pick up my feet or stress about keeping up. I now see things through the scope of my own pace, with no interruptions in between. 


When these moments are confined to the beats of my own heart, I feel free…no longer a caged bird, I have soared to places I never could have imagined, on my own. 

































The night of the performance, I anticipated a visual entertaining night where both my strength of mind would be expanded and my bereavement would linger amongst the audience. I would miss seeing Shayla’s head tilt back in laughter, while the creases amongst her lips, pulled back in the smiles imprinted upon her. At the show, I struck up a conversation with someone who was seeing Cirque Du Soleil for the first time and was unsure what to expect. I looked them in the eye, with a grin upon my face and said, “Your about to be pushed to stimulating levels of brilliance!” 

The show had intrigued me, due to the storyline, as the title means "wherever" in the Romany language of the gypsies—the universal wanderers. The show is an "acrobatic tribute to the nomadic soul". The show begins with the Greek myth of Icarus, picking up where the myth leaves off, re-imagining the story of what happened to Icarus after he flew too close to the sun and fell from the sky. In Varekai, rather than falling into the sea below him, Icarus lands in a lush forest full of exotic creatures.

There is the usual spectacular trapeze, juggling and dancing. The highlight for me was the “Russian Swing.” Acrobatics soar into the air, then onto a net boosted by two Russian Swings. The performers do flips and jump onto the shoulders of one another. 

At the intermission, I decided to go and look at the souvenirs. I was making my way through the crowd when something caught my eye, making me stop in an instant. Through the masses of people, I saw a man chatting with a woman. It was what he had on the back of his head, which caught my attention. As I approached, I had no idea what I would say to the strangers. By the time I was in front of them, I blurted out about Shayla, in a ‘Reader’s digest shortened version.” They were moved by the story of my daughter and smiled when I shared how she had worn her mask on the back of her head in Disneyworld. 



This is the way the man chose to also wear the exact replica of his Cirque Du Soleil mask. I knew I had to get a photograph of the moment and he happily obliged. It brought me some comfort to have shared in a special time, where I could embrace the serendipity of what had transpired. 

I have come to identify with the labyrinth of grief and the many intricate designs of bereavement. Instead of denying the memories I am flooded with, I have learned to separate some of the pain away and see how something unfolding in the present, can be lovingly connected to the past.


By TL Alton

Saturday, July 4, 2015

Unbounded Moirai








The death of a child is like a stone cast into the stillness of a quiet pool; the concentric ripples of despair sweep out in all directions, affecting many, many people. ~ J. DeFrain


There have been cycles of changes in my life since Shayla passed away. Some were foreseen- while others ripped away my sense of security- in those I believed I could count on, to be there for me. 
Through my turmoil, I discovered a new sagacity of what defines “family,” all the while holding in my arms the passing through of loved ones, who departed and felt like they have died to me. 


The crest fallen tears have been wiped away by stranger’s hugs… amidst the losses bestowed upon me, is a sense of belonging. Often the feeling of a puzzle piece being crammed into the wrong opening, sums up how it is to be amongst some people, who I once felt part of their lives. 

As a result of the many signs I have received after my daughter’s death, I am open to the realms of possibilities in which Shayla believed, while here on earth. 

Last year on Christmas Day, I met an extraordinary woman whose life would intersect with mine in remarkable ways. 

My plans were to see the movie “Unbroken.” I had a theater picked out, yet due to me getting lost, I could never imagine what it is that I would find. Judy and her partner Marc, who were in the city, visiting from Campbell River- where they reside- also wanted to see “Unbroken.” They were supposed to be at a different theater and yet, all three of us crossed paths at the same location, at the same time, on the same day.

As we entered the theater, neither of us had any notion that our daughters, Shayla and Lindsay, had brought us together in a significant manner. As we sat down, it was not long before we discovered that each of us had a daughter who had died young. 

When sharing about Shayla’s tragic passing on December 12th, Judy’s expression changed. She revealed that same day was Lindsay’s birthday.  I spoke more of my bereavement journey and of the grief support I had received. When mentioning, “The Compassionate Friends of Canada,” Judy explained how she belonged to the same non-profit organization, where she lived. 

Sitting in the theater together, we were partly in shock over the similarities; as well we drew such great comfort in them. 

Watching “Unbroken”- a movie of suffering, sacrifice, courage and faith, saw us relate to certain aspects of the movie. 



Afterwards, we exchanged contact information and now, nearly eight months later I sit here writing about my “Sister of Heart” as I lovingly call her. 








There have been endless emails shared over time, messages of love for our treasured daughters, sorrow over their deaths and an understanding that only a mother whose child has passed away, can truly empathize. 

We have become close over our personal struggles, along the way, trusting one another with our darker moments. 


Beyond the boundaries of our friendship has flourished, a compassion for what we have endured and continue to live through, on a daily basis. 

One day, after checking my mail, I discovered I had a parcel to pick-up. I cannot express how much happiness it brings, when I find someone has sent me, something in the mail. Even a card can uplift my soul~ in the love and care~ in which it was sent. I saw it was from Judy and carefully opened the box to discover marvelously crafted angel wings. Judy would later tell me how she had the same sparkling wings and wanted to gift me one as a present, which now holds my precious heart of Selenite stone. 



This spring, saw much disorder in my life, yet when I needed help in ways that go outside of the realms of camaraderie; it was Judy who did not hesitate to give more than a helping hand. Upon receiving a parcel from her, I wept tears of joy over what the package contained. I rejoiced in her generous, kind heart and cherished the grace she extended to me. For me, the one gift is private between us dear friends, yet within the box was also a dragonfly décor ornament, which came with a brilliantly written poem. Judy had no idea my nickname was related to these beautiful creatures. She wrote: 

The dragonfly I bought two weeks ago with you in mind; I didn't know that you like dragonflies, but I thought it was beautiful and reminded me of you ~ Judy 



In return, I sent a bundle of my finest Gypsum Rae Photography Notecards, along with my sincere gratitude for all she has helped me with.
Not long after, I received an email from Judy which she shared:

I said I was your friend no matter what you needed! I will always try to be there for you and this is my way of showing you that we are friends for life and I know that if I needed anything, you would have my back too!

In May, after an exchange of more emails, I received the following from my Sister of Heart: 

I manage a dollar store in Willow point, on the outskirts of Campbell River. It's a really nice view from the store as I can see the ocean. When I walk across the highway, I sit on the park bench and look at the water… I will definitely buy a special Gem to put in the water here for Shayla.  



















A short time passed before I was sent a photograph of the shimmering stone, which Judy had chosen, for my babygirl. She let me know when the ripples had been made- granting me peace- this amazing release had phenomenal connections. 

As bereaved mothers, we feel our missed daughters; Shayla and Lindsay, made it possible for us to meet on Christmas day. There are scars upon our fragile hearts for the sorrowful wounds we have encountered, so they gifted us a friendship~ bound in healing. 

Even though we only met once in person, our closeness goes further than our immeasurable losses. The stems of flowers once collected by our children, now have scattered seeds of hope. 



In the closing of our emails, we always sign: Friends through the Light and Love of Our beautiful daughters Shayla and Lindsay…with the understanding that grief’s finest melody, is played between the heartstrings of two people.

By T L Alton