On the Sixth Day of Christmas ~ Reawakening

Clouds come floating into my life,
no longer to carry rain or usher storm,
but to add color to my sunset sky.
- Rabindranath Tagore

There is a time for everything. We enter this world by numerals which signify life and we leave this life with numbers that represent our deaths. I know the moment when my daughter perished and it has a correlation to a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them.

Three years have passed in which I have found the courage to once again celebrate Shayla in the only form she would want: rejoicing. 

On this year’s December 12^th, I travelled to one of the realms free from strife…Butterfly Gardens in Brentwood Bay. 

The butterfly ornament I bought to pay respects to a life that has evolved

 As I enter, I share with the employees why I am clutching a pink ballerina teddy bear, affectionately called Babygirl. Years ago, my daughter made for me, a Create-A-Bear. When the little paw is gently squeezed, Shayla’s voice carries out the words: “I Love You Shoobie Doobie Do.” I cannot say how many times I have listened to it play, yet I can reveal … the absolute joy it gives me to hear them.

The staff members at Butterfly Gardens are always helpful and informative. As I enter through the doors I share with a lady about my visit. I also provide her with information about the movement. Proceeding into the tropical nature, I sit and listen to the flamingos, along with a variety of birds and the graceful cascade of a waterfall. All around, the Blue Morpho flits about. I watch in amazement at their breath-taking display of expanding their wings, which produces a transition of russet and indigo blue hues, when they are in flight. 

Moments later, I near the wishing well to place amongst the shimmering coins tossed amongst others, my contribution. I glance at the sign which states:  100 % of donations go to OPPORTUNITYCAN - To end poverty and transform lives, I am stopped by the most welcome of interruptions. Perched on my arm is a Blue Morpho. I look intently at this beautiful creature, which seems to be doing the same to me. Soon, I am overwhelmed with the reminder of my daughter’s symbol being the butterfly. I dare not move, but whisper…”Hello Babygirl.” This gift of life on my arm is a loving echo of the metamorphosis she undertook three years ago. 

Before I leave, I sit upon a bench while the poignant verse of William Wordsworth dedication to a butterfly comes to mind…

 I've watched you now a full half-hour;

Self-poised upon that yellow flower

And, little Butterfly! Indeed

I know not if you sleep or feed.

How motionless! - Not frozen seas

More motionless! And then

What joy awaits you, when the breeze

Hath found you out among the trees,

And calls you forth again!

Next, I drive into Victoria to check into Magnolia Hotel and Spa. 

When the General Manager, Bill Lewis, heard of my story and how Shayla-along with myself-were to have stayed there in December 2011, he gifted me a complimentary night in a magnificent suite. I booked it for December 12^th, knowing that is what Shayla would have wanted for me.

Me standing holding "Babygirl" where I was to have stayed with Shayla, three years ago...at Magnolia Hotel

Later after unpacking my belongings for the night, I opened the suite balcony door. To my delight- a stunning visual of the Legislative buildings lights mirrored a vision of beauty- on the surface of the Inner Harbour. 

Originally, I had no dinner plans, until a woman I had met at the local December 6^h Candle light Memorial for an end to Violence against Woman, sent me an email. Virginia Vaillancourt knew I would be alone on the anniversary of Shayla’s passing. She offered to take me to dinner anywhere I liked. I mentioned Shayla’s favourite meals were seafood fare. 

Virginia promptly took me to Nautical Nellie’s; a local restaurant with dishes focussed on a menu infused with the sea. While perusing the choices, Virginia asked if I would like to share in some wine. I was humbled by her generosity and agreed to whatever she chose. When the bottle came, I was pleased at what she had decided upon. Virginia did not know anything about my novel regarding a magical tree which has a quote about roots or that I was from Kelowna, yet she selected a white wine from an Okanagan winery (Mission Hill), called “Rootstock.” I explained all of the relation of things and when it came time for a toast, we said:  “To-Shae.” 

While speaking with Virginia, my eyes were averted to two of her striking tattoos. On her one arm was a hummingbird and on the other, was a turtle. I spoke of the unique tattoo that I had embellished upon my skin, in honour of the drawing Shayla had created years ago. Afterwards, I showed off my pride of having something exceptional on my body, which my daughter had envisioned and drawn. 

What I quickly discovered about my dinner companion was how intently she listened to me share, mostly about my babygirl…but also concerning life’s lessons. There were tears shed, stories exchanged and a fabulous burst of giggles over a few menu items-the Bag of Doughnuts and pappardelle had us amused. It was one of those… you had to be there moments. In the midst of our dinner, it suddenly occurred to me that since Shayla could no longer come to me in human form and hold my hand, she had sent an angel in the likeness of Virginia.

 

 After several hours of being together, this woman, who I had only met briefly once at her event, divulged to me that for some reason there is a connection between us and offered me a box that displayed a grand message. 

I felt my emotions gathering in my mind and soon the tears met up to spill over my weary soul. Inside the box is an opalescent heart, filled with glints of light. Perched on it, is a sterling silver butterfly, encrusted with sparkling, precious gemstones . My heart starts beating faster, reminding me that this moment is actually happening. I am unassuming of her pure intentions to console a grieving mother, though I can see the impact she is having on me. 

All that Glitters

In that instant of connection, Virginia has taken it upon herself to smolder the blackness of angst with the light of who she is; filled with unveiled grace. I sit in awe of this person who took the time to listen to a bereaved mother, relive the tragedy of that fateful day. Then recalling how she reached out to hold onto my trembling hands, she found some way to emerge from me… the smiles that overtook my mourning. 

Later on, as she spoke of her community connections and what she does to impact our world in a kind-hearted manner… I felt a heavenly presence. One in which, my path had intersected with someone whose values paralleled mine and gently reminded me that I was NOT alone!

Upon returning to my suite, I set on a table a display of LED candles and a framed picture of Shayla celebrating the holiday’s years ago. 

I let myself take in the beauty I was surrounded by. Sitting in one of the comfortable chairs, I opened the box of Hawaiian chocolates and other favourite treats of Shayla's.

I then took out the butterfly necklace from Virginia. After a few snapshots, I put on the delicate jewellery and tenderly pressed upon it, near my heart. I reached into my bag and grabbed the most recent copy of Okanagan Woman Magazine. The publication once featured a story I had written right after Shayla had passed. The magazine is published by dear friends of mine, TJ and Dean Wallis. It brought me more comfort to snuggle under the blankets and have something worthy of reading. 

A few moments later, I thought the one thing missing- in addition to my angel by my side- was something Shayla  absolutely took delight in; the fire log channel on television. I grabbed the remote and hoped to find it on the TV in my suite. As I turned on the power, I was thrilled to see the very first channel that appeared was the SHAW Fire Log ! 

This made my heart warm as it was the perfect ending to such a traumatic day in my life. As the ‘embers’ crackled and the fire danced upon the screen, I knew I would continue to survive and thrive on this unimaginable reflection of loss. Yet, Hope existed in a reawakening I never could have envisioned.

As people slumbered, the world would begin again…with me in it. 

BY T.L. Alton

Christmas Devotion

In our society there appears to be cracks in the foundation of teamwork. Value tends to be placed on capital instead of compassion. We are linked through technology, yet disconnected as a nation. People are expendable with no loyalty to one another. Lost is a time when a handshake meant your word and the term, I have your back, held merit.  We amass things, only to dispose of them when we grow uninterested or feel challenged by them. Yet, there is HOPE… every so often a shift occurs- one in which our world is interrupted by the human soul’s desire to exalt change... while embracing fellowship.

Last week, when my life was altered in a foreseen direction, I let my heart openly weep for something that was lost. What I could not anticipate was the miraculous waves it created in the universe, by granting me consent… to see the forest through the trees. 

By the end of the following week, my life has been impacted by the gentle beauty of a magnolia, the threads of a quilt, and the overflowing gesture of kindness extended to me. My heart was overwhelmed, when the soft caress of simple things, draped my earth with its compassion.  

I have been mulling over for awhile now, the notion of stepping back into the past, in order to restore my Christmas spirit. To embark on this clandestine mission would require time, research and my effort. These things- I now have- in order to devote myself to the precious treasures locked away in December 2011. 

Tucked securely in my mind are pieces of a day cloaked in melancholia. In one week, the tragic marking of a day riveted to this mother’s fragmented heart, will summon all that was lost to me on a fatal road. It will be three years since death walked into my life and took with it someone whose single existence made such an admirable difference.

 Ask any bereaved parent and they will know how a ticking clock resonates with them, when their child passed. I use to count every 12^th of the month, until one day I traded it with a resurgence of cherished moments. Prying open the vault of twenty-one years shared with my daughter, called upon courage in me that had whispers of doubt, but masses of faith. 

In lifting my gaze upward, this allowed me to open my eyes to all of the brilliant signs that have been sent to me. Mother Nature is my best friend; for in a formation of clouds, the murmur of a breeze or the unearthing of a one of a kind pebble, I see, feel and hear Shayla. 

 

Photo Courtesy of The Weather Network Gallery

On a crisp night, as I assemble under the veil of the universe’s shadows, I imagine her eyes are the stars gazing back at me. In a knot of a white pine tree- limbs twisted upward in glorious victory- I envision her name carved amongst the ingrained cracks; personifying strength and protection.  

Acceptance of all things since Shayla’s passing has enriched my life, knowing she is forever a part of my heart.  In letting go of things I have loved, it has allowed for the divine to surface, enveloping the grief… while letting me see the snapshots of our lives shared together. 

In December 2011, my daughter and I were to spend our 12 days of Christmas together, in Victoria.  An itinerary was created, with a few holiday surprises for Shayla. Yet death had its own agenda. On December 12^th, the essence of Christmas was swallowed whole, by the words of a police officer standing in front of me. 

While that moment encapsulates my misery at losing my only child, I have risen above to reclaim back the 12 Days of Christmas that I would have shared with Shayla. I drew upon the plans we had made and since I now reside within Victoria, the tasks at hand have already come together with much ease. 

The significance of the days I will take part in holds several meanings; the first being connected to my faith and the real importance of the season. The second will see me trade in the tragedy of December 12 for what Shayla would want for me to do, fix my eyes upon the loving bond that could not be severed. The third is the magnitude bearing the connotation of giving with less focus on receiving. In sharing this, I have encountered a flow of continual blessings that were unexpected. Although I have my own set schedule as to what I will be doing and how my twelve days will be carried out, my Saviour has already written my story…long ago. 

Within my community, this past week has seen a stranger pay for my groceries, neighbours and dear friends of mine, David and Audrey, gave $200.00 to my mechanic to cover my bill, the General Manager of Magnolia Hotel & Spa, Bill Lewis, has gifted me a night to remember and someone dear to me, paid for an afternoon of spa services at Magnolia. I have had money taken off my bill at a tire business, coupons given to me while paying for my items and a zipper on a quilt of Shayla’s re-stitched, at no charge. 

Last Sunday, after attending Canvas Church, two ladies who attend services with me blessed me with their kindness. I had lunch bought for me by a wonderful woman named Elaine, who also gave me a lovely Poinsettia. A book of Christmas prayers was presented to me by Lilian, along with a candle and I have been told repeatedly by others how they are praying for me.

All of this happened on the heels of me not working and awaiting my upcoming surgery. I would like to convey to everyone mentioned above that I believe in ‘angels’ who have brought such loving grace to me.  My 12 days of Christmas will elaborate more on Magnolia Hotel & Spa in a later post, as there is a marvellous connection to Shayla- once bittersweet- it now will hold endearing memories. 

Before this even began to unfold, there were miracles swirling around me, radiating the light of the season and instilling in me how my precious child has shown me that sacrifice… does not mean the same as suffering.

Photo Courtesy of Pinterest

 By T.L. Alton