The Sceptre of Grief ~ Part 2

 “We are anchored to our grief, through the very last breath, our loved ones took- in the strand of  unspoken words of those departed; we never remain the same- bound to the secrets of our grieving hearts…the angst of our sorrow is broken, when we are no longer connected, to the very day they came to pass.” 

~ TL Alton 

Ask someone who’s loved one has died the significance of time and many will recount how they wished for more moments with them. The death of my child drew closer the realization that I will never ‘get over her loss.’ Yet the building of things so monumental that came to pass this summer thrust forth my grief- into a whole new spectrum of light.

It began with the removal of my daughter’s Memorial monument at McKinley Landing. I have knelt in the snow, weeping over the granite-stone of protection- with my fingers caressing every inch of its smooth, polished surface. In June, I stood my ground in a letter to the City of Kelowna, demanding the stone’s return to the very exact spot it was extracted from. I notified friends about the upheaval and vented my concerns over what I considered a travesty. As the days went by and soon turned into two weeks, I felt a pull on me that at first I could not explain. My thoughts became consumed by the need to release and a wedge began to form between myself and McKinley Reservoir, where Shayla perished. I shared my sentiments with those in the Aboriginal community. The Métis I spoke with, reinforced my belief that the stone was not meant to return to the spot, where her car crash had occurred. I began to question, ponder and reflect; when it occurred to me that I was putting great distance between that tragic day and where I am now in my life. At the beginning of August, I sat at my desk and wrote a heartfelt letter to Mayor and Council of Kelowna, along with the construction company doing the work on McKinley Landing. I shared that I was no longer bound to the stone or the reservoir and had no desire to see the memorial be put back there. While I never heard back from Mayor or Council, the City of Kelowna replied to my angst written email, with two simple words: “Thank You.” It was then I decided to also disengage myself from further dealings with any of those I had addressed, as my time spent on them, has fallen upon deaf ears. 

A visit in July from Shayla’s extended family came with much trepidation. As a result of what unfolded, my anxiety was brought forth in a manner which magnified my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I came to understand how everything transpired stems from me interweaving myself into a place I never belonged. I had spent the early years of my childhood chasing after the love of my own family, then another 20 years trying to find acceptance with those I cared for with all my heart. Afterwards, I understood it was no longer fair for them or me, to have any further connections. Out of desperation, I had pursued relationships with them, once again merely because they were the ones who loved Shayla. I had clung onto the hope that we all could come together for her sake. The reality was they had let go of me long before I ever did of them. I prayed about one of the most difficult decisions I would have to make and released them, one by one as stones into the sea. I needed to grip onto my new role- past the death of my beloved daughter- walking away from those I spent years feeling excluded. 

The one thing that remains intact and on my shelf, is the copy of a photo with my daughter and the baby she came to see that December in 2011. It is the last photo I have of my daughter alive, the night before she passed. This is what Shayla wants me to remember …the poignant moment and not to dwell on anything else.

This summer, I took to a sacred place as I needed to have one last ‘conversation,’ with someone I once roped the moon for and hung the stars from. It stemmed from an individual asking me why I still had my former boyfriend’s comments on my blog?  I knew the answer right away…while Paul may have failed me as the man who was to love only me, respect me as a woman and stand up for me, there are certain things in the near nine years of knowing him, that I had gained. In the time we corresponded from his home in England to my residence in the Okanagan, he was a lifeline when I had given up all hope. His postcards sent to me all over the worldly travels he embarked on, were priceless sentiments, which brought me joy. When he finally walked into my life and started his new beginnings with me, I thought this gypsy princess had finally found her fairy-tale ending. Over the years, Paul introduced me to the many spectacular realms of Mother Nature, through the many hikes we took together. When my feet touched the ground in London- not once, but twice, to see his family… I experienced moments that I still cherish. Beyond the encounters of Stonehenge, I was able to place my daughter’s special Rose Quartz heart on the Princess Diana granite Memorial Fountain.  I was taken to the pond where Paul grew up with his brothers and did a pebble release for Shayla. We sauntered along the same pathways at Oxford University that C.S. Lewis and J.R. Tolkien once had.  Beyond all of this, the main reason I have his words remain is because Paul is part of the inspiration for The Heart Pebble Movement. He trudged thru snow in the midst of winter and was the first to place a stone for Shayla, where they had once hiked together.  He loved my daughter dearly; despite any misgivings he and I had. Over the years we were a couple, he also believed in my writing and paid for many conferences, so I could hone my gift. The significance of me finally completing my first novel, back in May- is a tribute to him supporting my passion for the written word. However, the lines of me leaving him and letting him go were blurred for almost two years…despite all the heartache he put me through, I still loved him. This spring, I gathered up everything he had given me, pictures he had lovingly painted , cherished trinkets, a scrapbook I had created which was testament to our love story, and I mailed it all back to him. What he would not have seen on his end, were the tears I shed over everything one last time. It was this summer, at the secluded spot I had found that I wrote his name- one final time in the sand, then waded into the ocean at sunset and released something he had given me. Upon returning to the grains of sand etched with his name, I took my hands and swept them over to erase the pain and accept the scars I now live with. My conversation with him came in the form of my eyes closing, imagining him standing before me as I spoke from my heart saying:

“Paul, I forgive you and I release you forever, may God grant you peace in your new journey without me by your side. Thank you for both the joy and sorrow you gave me, as I learned valuable life lessons from everything I endured- Amen.”

All of these impacting decisions came about because of a faith-based course I immersed myself in July, called GriefShare - which is a friendly, caring group of people who will walk alongside you through one of life’s most difficult experiences; instilling in us we don’t have to go through the grieving process alone.

Everyday-for 30 days straight- after work I would come home, often exhausted as my days were long. Sometimes 8 or 11 hours I would have been at my job and all I wanted to do was rest. Yet, I devoted myself to the course, as I wanted to facilitate a support group in the fall. 

Through a series of videos, open discussions and a workbook -specifically created for those mourning the death of someone- I focussed myself on what I needed to do in order to fully heal. I figured with all of the challenges I had faced in the choices I had made, that I was in a secure place with my grieving journey. This is when the Lord reached down and gently started to pull of the band-aids, covering my wounded heart. In GriefShare, every session focuses on a component of grief and one had to do with being “stuck’ in your grief. There was a list and I was preparing to put a check mark next to everything, as I thought I was in the clear. Then certain signs emerged and I was aghast to find out there were two boxes on my list I could not honestly put a tick beside because I had not dealt with them yet. Having stored over a dozen boxes at Shayla’s father in McKinley Landing, I contacted my church to see if anyone would be travelling to the area. I asked if someone could pick up the contents, I had left behind. God works in amazing ways and the young lady who runs the Children’s Ministry Saanich Baptist Church, was in Kelowna visiting her parents. She brought back all of Shayla’s boxes and upon first seeing them, after all this time has passed- my heart sunk. I had even forgotten what was in most of them. Returning to house, I spent a week of unpacking, sorting and making the decision to start donating more of her things. I gathered a collection of stuff animals and gave them to the Children’s Ministry, where a little boy or girl can play with them. I know this would have made Shayla happy, as she loved her nieces and nephews. When I was finished with the sorting, I was surprised to find I had three large piles for goodwill. I downsized all the way to three smaller boxes. This time I did not weep over her baby clothes. I read thru poems she had composed, funny stories and homemade cards she had crafted for me, over the years. Her stuff was donated to The Society of Saint Vincent de Paul, where others may find use for it. This was now a box I could put a check mark beside.

 Next on my list was to give my bedroom a make-over and remove any shrines I had of my daughter. There is a difference between having a few photographs and mementos compared to every nook in your room filled with the essence of your loved one. It was important for me to do this, as I was struck with the notion that next February 24^th, marks the fifth year anniversary of the birthdays Shayla has been in Heaven.   

As I write this, it still comes with disbelief at the time that has rushed by, without my babygirl in it. Still, through me taking the GriefShare program, I was able to finally heal the scars that Praise the Lord, I do not have to hide from my creator!  I needed to complete all of these profound releases, in order to facilitate the 15 week support group- designed to assist those seeking healing. GriefShare is focussed on the changes one experiences as a result of their own grief journey. Through scripture and Bible teachings, those involved in the course, feel a part of the bereavement community and are encouraged to take part or simply be there to listen. 

I am now proud of being able to serve the Lord and Saanich Baptist Church, where I will be leading the group, for those grieving. I had to dig deep and allow the hurt to re-surface again, in order to fully heal after my loss. This does not mean I ‘move on’ from my daughter’s passing, but instead I ‘move forward.’ When someone hears of another being healed, they misguidedly think that person no longer grieves. Instead, an individual whose loved one is gone still has moments of lamenting. Yet chooses to see the beauty in the ashes; centered on the years that person lived- rather than the formidable day- of which they died. 

My sorrow has been transformed and I am renewed; ever present of my daughter’s passing, yet knowing the Lord had blessed me with loaning a “daughter of God” to me, for 21 years. 

This closes a painful chapter in many aspects of my life. However I felt comfort, sitting amongst my Sisters of faith last weekend, when my promotional video was shown for GriefShare. I was not only able to speak of my tragedy, but I could stand at a table to register people, wanting to help others work through their own bereavement.

I believe the following quote sums up part of my own healing experiences…

Irish poet and author, C.S. Lewis ~

“If a mother is mourning not for what she has lost but for what her dead child has lost, it is a comfort to believe that the child has not lost the end for which it was created.”

By TL Alton

The Secret Sceptre of Grief ~ Part 1

The face is the mirror of the mind, and eyes without speaking confess the secrets of the heart. ~St. Jerome

Secrets. We all have encased within us a barrage of them. Concealed from the tender mercies of our world, we bear unspeakable disgrace that stains our core with sin.

If this where my post ended, it would not be uplifting and quite miserable.
In the four years of writing on The Heart Pebble Movement, I have exposed more than the flesh and bones that comprises me. 
The actuality is although I did enter this world as a ‘perfect’ polished, shiny stone; I became rugged, chipped and flawed along the way. Having grown up with closets full of secrets; my innocence was tarred in wickedness. I did not fear the monsters lurking outside in society, but as a terrified little four year old girl-I desperately tried to keep out the evil I knew as ‘family.’ While most individuals have roots similar to the Cleaver's, I could relate more to ‘Flowers in the Attic.’ The bottled secrets of my damaged soul, were placed on a graveyard shelf, with ‘Do Not Open’ labels on them. 

Yet, there existed light -piercing each covert jar- shards of the cross upon which Jesus died for me and my sins. I have been saved by my Saviour and the faith, which has seen me survive ‘unspeakable things.’ My heart has been opened to the dreams of a life, I could only imagine. 

Where once misery was inflicted upon my innocence, now there is a strong relationship in Christ. With everything cloaked in Sin, the only man who could shatter the barriers of those who have hurt me, is the love of the Lord. 

In the times I have expressed myself openly in my posts, I have received messages of support, caring and hope, from others reaching out to me. Some who have replied are dear friends, then there are comments I have kept by my former partner, while other remarks are by complete strangers. People in this world who have read entries on my blog… which were created with my fingertips, dipped into a kaleidoscope of words. 

I have shared my grief- ricocheted off of the brokenness of my journey- as a bereaved mother; reeling from the sudden death of my only child. I exposed the raw and ugly truth of what it is like to have a child die. 

Throughout all of it, I have contemplated the individuals that my words have been read by; those I will never know the impact of what I write. I reflect on other parents who may have read my posts and wept together or the woman whose feels trapped and caged in a toxic relationship. I have thought of those who have found comfort, when I have shared my own loss of someone I once loved, with every fiber of my being. I hope these women realize they are not alone in never having anyone stand up for them; yet find the grace in extending forgiveness, to those who hurt them...along the way.

My thoughts have wandered to those young girls, who can relate to the despair of trying to cope with emotional issues- having found strength in turning on the light of faith; instead of hurting themselves in the clutches of darkness. 

I shudder for the  women who sleep deeply, unknown to their spouses accessing the computer, to download pornography- with each click of the depraved images, impaling the hearts of those they are suppose to value , respect and love. 

I fold my hands in prayer for the little girls and boys, who lay petrified in their beds when hearing the opening of their doors and the depravity on the other side, known as ‘family’ …feeding their sickly desires. 

All of these things I have wrote about as they are ‘secret chapters’  in my life, which I have revealed… because keeping them hidden, only breathes life into the sins that I was once bound to. This does not make me now a ‘perfect person free of sin’- instead it discloses that I am not flawless. However, the stains covering me have been lifted slowly, as I continue to be a ‘work in progress.’ 

I can relate to what is happening in some of the recent news headlines, because of similar things I have been subjected to, throughout my life.
This past Sunday, I heard our Pastor Steve Sundby, speak.
In spring, I began going every week to Saanich Baptist Church and have found a place where I am welcome- flaws and all. 

Pastor Sundby’s sermon was on “Thy Kingdom Come” and it was Part 1. This man delivers words that run through the heart of those who are are there.  With his commanding presence and thundering voice, I see the eyes of those in attendance, focussed on the word of God. 

He spoke of the Ashley Madison hacker scandal, which has seen unfaithful people like renowned Josh Duggar’s foundation fall apart- as if built on a cotton candy pedestal -subjected to the tears of those he hurt- it is now dissolved! Josh Duggar has also admitted to sexually abusing young girls; including some of his own sisters. This is a man whose tongue is swaddled in Sin! The Pastor’s sermon also drew on the insensitivity to the plight of the world’s current afflictions. His words struck a fire amongst those in attendance and have us waiting, in anticipation for Part 2, at our next service. 


At the beginning of my grief journey- nearing four years ago, I was lost, fearful, traumatized and full of anger. Time has healed the scars that most would not believe…yet now after making some of the hardest decisions, I have emerged proudly ‘wearing the scars upon my sleeves.’

In Part 2 of my blog, much more will be revealed, as to the transformation I have undergone this summer and the ‘letting go’ of things- I once held with reverence. 

Those broken wings I once carried with me… have finally healed and left the ground… still holding onto my Dreams...I dance in the downpour of Life!

TL Alton