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 12^th, 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

The Invisible Golden Bow of Friendship

“When we honestly ask ourselves which people in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.”

― Henri J.M. Nouwen

As I lean over the railing at the lake, under the fragment of the previous full moon, I listen to the darkness breathe out the symphony of stars and noises of twilight. The sounds of the lagoons rhythm against the slumbering aquatic herbs lull me into a state of peace.

I use this precious space of time, to allow myself to bring to my mind, a recent pebble release.  Bound in its liberation, is a friendship which evolved over the years.

I met Joyce through her workplace and was struck by her distinct, beautiful laughter that seemed to echo within me. It was not long before I looked forward to seeing her warm smile and hear Joyce say: “How ya doing?”

Our brief visits, turned into longer conversations with me sharing more titbits about my life, my writing and of course, my daughter. I would tell her of my excitement when Shayla was coming to visit from University and our adventures, I had planned.

After my daughter died, I recall the tears brimming and how she wrapped herself around me, like a safe cocoon, Joyce did not need to offer any words. We started taking walks together and divulging more personal aspects of our lives. Both of us had been in the past and we slowly built our trust in the special times we shared. My dear friend and I have shared meals, coffees and a fabulous visit to Fort Langley, Campbell Valley and Redwood Park. We have talked about baseball, children, grief, relationships and lessons we have learned.

Every milestone that happened connected to Shayla, Joyce was there to support me as her friend. When McKinley Road was awarded near a ½ million dollars to bring safety changes, I was thrilled to tell Joyce and she stood proud with me- one mother to another, in this accomplishment.

Back in January, when I left my vehicle in the Okanagan, I travelled by bus to Langley to attend a child-hood friend’s wedding. It was Joyce- who after working a full shift- would come and pick me up. Since the celebrations were over a course of three days in Vancouver, she would wait at the SkyTrain, past midnight for me to arrive and finally drop me off. I could see the exhaustion on her face, but she never complained and kindly listened to me.  I wept through tears to her about what I was going through with all the emotions of the wedding and the pain inside from someone else’s betrayal. It was a dark time in my life. Had it not been for Joyce’s compassion, hugs and travels together that weekend, I could not have uplifted myself so easily, after the dust settled. Likewise, if it was not for her generosity and kind heart, I would not have been able to go and reunite with Sudesh and his family at the wedding.

 Most recently, the Memorial Bench dedication saw my friend write to me:

The bench is beautiful just like your baby girl Tonya. I didn't get a chance to know her but you both were very lucky to have each other. And you have wonderful memories that no one can take away hang on to those my friend.  Joyce

On a recent trip that Joyce took with her husband and son, to Disneyland, she took part in The Heart Pebble Movement. During their road trip, they stopped along a beach. I received a lovely message from my friend:

Hi there this is where I picked up the stone it was a beautiful spot just outside a place called Brookings. In one of my pictures I am holding the stone to my heart.

Soon after, I was fortunate to receive more beautiful snapshots of Joyce releasing a stone for my babygirl, along with more caring words.

Hi there here are the picture of me at the pier, where I am throwing the stone at Pismo beach
I told your baby girl that we were both very lucky to have you in our lives. And told her I am a good friend of her mom. We both know she is here with us and she knows who I am. Take care my friend, love Joyce

I was deeply touched by her tender release and taking the time from her family vacation to honour Shayla.

I feel I have found her amongst my blessings of treasured friendships; much like a gift whose invisible golden bow of gratitude shines within my memories, she remains present.

By T.L. Alton