The Good Stuff ~ Music

I have learned the roughness of grief, is something that can have its pointy edges smoothed... by the calming melodies of song.  If I feel inundated with anguish, the first thing I reach for is a CD to bring solace back into my often chaotic world.

Last night, I attended -along with my partner- a concert. I am passionate about music as I am about my writing. Prior to Shayla’s death, our presence at a multitude of shows was  something I treasured. From country to rock, pop to folk infused with the blues, music uplifted me in many ways. My scrapbooks are filled with a variety of ticket stubs that displays my eclectic blend of artists I listen to.

Going to a concert with Shayla was like having your own one-woman powerhouse show, beside you. She would belt the lyrics out-loud, shake and shimmy, while woo-hoo’s were yelled out to the stage. Over the years, we made posters together to hold up and one night, my daughter’s dream of meeting a performer came true. We were seeing Jann Arden perform, with Shayla all revved up for the show. As Jann cracked jokes and eased the audience into a level of comfort that she was well- known for, she spotted my daughter, holding up a poster. Jann then called Shayla on stage and I thought my babygirl was going to trip, as she bolted front and centre. Jann engaged in friendly banter with my daughter and later signed a poster for her. Many locals saw Shayla and she was delighted when someone would say: “Hey, aren’t you the girl who met Jann Arden?”

 Over the years, we started a tradition that saw us connect, even when we were not together at a concert. Each one of us would ring up the other person and play a popular tune by the artist. I received random calls once in awhile, where all I could hear was screaming and distorted music in the background. I would then be reminded that Shayla was somewhere at a concert, singing her heart out and thinking of her momma.

Two days before she passed away, I was watching STING perform his endless hits. I could not get a hold of her, so I recorded parts of “Every Breath You Take and Roxanne, on my cell phone.” These were both of Shayla’s favourites.  I smiled, knowing that in only 2 weeks, I would see her in person and play the songs to her.

Life sometimes has a twisted way of taking something you revered and turning it into a catalyst of pain.  After Shayla passed away, I found these short clips on my phone and had a meltdown. She would never see or hear the words of stuff that mattered to us.

The first concert after she was gone, I found myself instantly reaching for my phone to call her. A lump seemed to be caught in my throat and then a sinking feeling overcame me. I had been robbed of these special moments, stripped of a bond between mother and child. It would take months for me to realize that I needed to focus on what I had with my beloved daughter and not spend wasteless time on what was no longer.

Yesterday, when I was at the Snow Patrol / Noel Gallagher concert, I closed my eyes a lot…I traded seeing the concert in order to “feel” it. Suddenly, the hit Chasing Cars began and I purposely grabbed my cell phone and started to record. I knew it would never be the same, as it was with Shayla. Yet, I seized the opportunity to do something in the present that still connected me to my past; to continue a tradition that evoked joy for Shayla and me.

One of the new songs I had not heard was called: “This Isn’t Everything You Are.” As Snow Patrol sang the words, I let the melody settle in to me. I was blown away by how it reminded me of my own unknown grief journey. The parts of losing time and there are strangers everywhere struck a chord. When Shayla died, people of authority had evaded my personal space. Strangers were standing in MY home, whispering amongst themselves or offering assistance. All I wanted to do was “keel over” and how one moment in time had imploded my world from the inside out. Yet, the possibility of help right at my fingertips was something I yearned for. On December 12, 2011, there was a woman Police Officer who said some private, heartfelt words that I continue to cherish.  While everyone else was standing over me, hovering, she kneeled by my side and her friendly face was also covered in tears. Offering her hand and a moment of compassion; made all of the difference when my heart was shattered into fragments.

With music, the beauty of endless meanings interrelates to those who listen to it. When I first heard this song last night, it was as if that very Officer was trying to let me know… “This Isn’t Everything You Are.” This meant that although this tragedy would forever be a part of my existence, death could not ever steal away, what Shayla and I shared.

By T L. Alton

“This Isn’t Everything You Are” By Snow Patrol

You’ve been up all night, and the night before

You’ve lost count of drinks and time

And your friends keep calling, worried sick

And there are strangers everywhere…

Don’t keel over now

Don’t keel over

And in one little moment

It all implodes

But this isn’t everything you are

Breathe deeply in the silence

No sudden moves

This isn’t everything you are

Just take the hand that’s offered

And hold on tight

This isn’t everything you are

There’s joy not far from here, right

I know there is

This isn’t everything you are…

Forever Young

"May the good lord be with you

Down every road you roam

And may sunshine and happiness

Surround you when you're far from home

And may you grow to be proud

Dignified and true

And do unto others

As you'd have done to you

Be courageous and be brave

And in my heart you'll always stay

Forever young, forever young

May good fortune be with you

May your guiding light be strong

Build a stairway to heaven

With a prince or a vagabond

And may you never love in vain

And in my heart you'll always remain

Forever young, forever young

And when you finally fly away

I'll be hoping that I served you well

For all the wisdom of a lifetime

No one can ever tell

But whatever road you choose

I'm right behind you, win or lose

Forever young, forever young" ~ Rod Stewart

The efforts needed to maintain a solid friendship is a labour of love. Shayla was loyal to the one person who had seen her through a myriad of changes; typical of a young girl, growing up. For Shayla, the other half of her care-free soul was her best friend, Chantel. The measure of their friendship was forged in secret codes, nicknames only they knew and adoration for everything Disney. While both in appearances were the opposites of each other; their capacity to dream big saw each one hold the other in reverence. Soft-spoken Chantel seemed to blossom off of the energy Shayla and her shared for almost 21 years of companionship. For these two girls, nothing limited them in pursuing their dreams and maintaining their friendship.

Growing up, they took the common things in life and made them adventures of the heart. Summer days were spent swimming at Wood Lake in Oyama, BC. They caught rays of sunshine together; while never holding back what teenage girl woes were bothering them. Often at parks such as Kaloya surrounded by Kalamalka Lake, they would swings off a tree branch, over the water.

After Shayla passed away, I found a video of the two of them, on a set of playground swings, with my daughter singing: “Swing Life Away”- by Rise Against. Their sweet innocence reminded me how no matter how much we grow up, a part of us sways to the rhythms of life- never too late to embrace the kid in all of us.

Last December, I found myself sitting across from Chantel, and reaching out to her I gathered what strength I had to give her something. This wasn’t an ordinary gift, rather one from the collection of Shayla’s Christmas presents that she would never open.

Since my daughter’s death, I have reached out to those who knew Shayla and saw another side to my child that she reserved for the closest of friends. Both Chantel and I have spent quality time together, immersed in stories of grandeur and silliness. The endless hours spent playing Disney Monopoly and tears shed over those who broken their hearts.

Earlier this year, Chantel and her mother Rene went to Wood Lake and placed several pebbles for Shayla. They stood together, a weight upon themselves in mourning the loss of the girl, who wanted to bring change to the world. For my daughter, Rene’s home was another place of refuge; where amidst the walls of Chantel’s bedroom, the genuineness of what they shared was sheltered.

As I write this, Shayla’s best friend and her family are in Disneyland. I received an email from Chantel asking where she and her mother could put some pebbles. This brought me grace in knowing they were thinking of my daughter at one of the happiest places on earth. I offered ideas and smiled, knowing amongst the spirit of old Walt Disney, a part of The Heart Pebble Movement is being carried on.

   http://youtu.be/yPvO3yXQshk

By T L. Alton

A World Not Divided

To Everything (Turn, Turn, Turn)

There is a season (Turn, Turn, Turn)

And a time to every purpose, under Heaven

A time to build up, a time to break down

A time to dance, a time to mourn

A time to cast away stones, a time to gather stones together…

The Byrds (adapted from the Book of Ecclesiastes )

This posting is dedicated to those people who took part in The Heart Pebble Movement, earlier this year. Ironically, the location of pebbles from both ladies was in Hawaii. I find myself deeply connected with the Aloha spirit; where the magical place of tranquility and natural beauty draw me near. The air infused with scents of flora and fauna entices those seeking replenishment. It is where I found myself vacationing in splendor and the beautiful memories of Shayla, last February.

One of those who placed a pebble for my daughter was Diane. I had met her and her husband on the plane ride to Maui. She sent a photograph which had deep meaning for me. It was a snapshot of her Hawaiian lei in the form of a heart, with a pebble shaped in the same image. The lovely white moon seashell necklace was stunning. Tightly and intricately sewn in circular patterns are hundreds of white seashells connected to the Kukui nuts. These are an important symbol for the Hawaiian people, and were once used in ceremonial jewelry. The vivid image sent to me by Diane was a source of comfort and inspiration.

For those who have suffered the loss of a child, it seems the smallest thing can hold such deep meaning. The notion of someone in this world, capturing a picture of a pebble and taking the time to send it to me, is one I cherish as a true blessing. It takes the legacy of Shayla and links it to those whose distance does not matter. The Heart Pebble Movement sees people gathering stones, rocks and smoothed pebbles, uniting us and honouring the life of my daughter.

The other placement was of a small, rose quartz heart gem stone. A former classmate from College, Janay Babuin Funk, was on holiday with her family, in Hawaii. I received several brilliant photos of the pink stone. I have a larger one that belonged to Shayla and to see a smaller version on the black sand of a tropical paradise, replaced my strife with harmony.  Rose Quartz is connected to the heart and evokes self-acceptance, while enhancing all forms of love: self love, mother love, and kindness. By setting it upon the famous "black sand" beaches of Hawaii, such as Punaluu Black Sand Beach, and Kehena Beach, created instantaneously by the violent interaction between hot lava and sea water, it balances out, much like the yin-yang symbol. The divided part of the symbol gives a sense of continual movement of these two energies causing everything to happen.

As I continue to receive displays of honour for a life taken far too soon, I add to the collection of travelling pebbles.  I encourage people to join in the strength of this movement that sees a simple act of kindness continue to leave a ripple effect. Whether you reside in Africa or Switzerland, this cause is something everyone can do for a young lady who believed in hope; perching in the soul of all of us.   

My email is power2b@shaw.ca

I encourage those interested, to share The Heart Pebble Movement and lend their original ideas, along with compassion to a cause that links us all in healing.

By T L. Alton

The Butterfly Effect

“They seemed to suddenly come upon happiness as if they had surprised a butterfly in the winter woods.”  ~ Edith Wharton

In order to convey the passion of The Heart Pebble Movement, I feel the importance of sharing is key to its existence. *To fashion an inner story of our pain carries us into the heart of it, which is where rebirth inevitably occurs.

Although I spent nine days in Maui, I am going to dedicate this as my last entry regarding the tropical paradise I was immersed in. In my previous Blog titled: 9 Days of Tasting the Rainbow, I posted every day I was in Hawaii and therefore feel the need to move onward is important.  Although not wanting to appear redundant, I wish to share about another display of grace. This one instilled in me that my daughter was ‘with me in the spirit of aloha,’ the whole time.  

It had become a daily ritual to me to walk from my hotel to the stretch of beaches that went onward for miles. I felt as if I was searching for something. A piece of me clearly was missing and as I gazed upwards to the heavens, my feet felt as if sand bricks were tied to them.   During my stay, I had placed pebbles all over the pristine island in the pacific; yearning to leave the mark of a young woman who should have been at my side, snorkelling.

Growing up, Shayla`s constant evolving was much like a butterfly. The ancient Greek word for butterfly primarily means “soul or mind.”  My daughter`s emergence into this world saw her creating a legacy that saw her morph into a disposition of kindness, which companioned her thoughtfulness towards others. Always giving in nature, she reached out to those in need through her volunteering and effortless grace. Shayla`s need to fit in saw her do the exact opposite. She would dye her hair a multitude of colours, wear clothes from a thrift store which mirrored her own unique style. Shayla stood out without even trying and at the depths of the core of who she was; her gradual change brought forth new discoveries about herself.

As I settled into the warm sand, the tiny grains tickling my bare feet; I closed my eyes and imagined what it would feel like to hold my babygirl`s hand in mine. I envisioned her strands of burgundy hair, gently being caressed by the ocean breeze. The deep pools of blue glints in her eyes that saw her evoke such powerful emotions.  The sudden rush of tears came upon me and when I looked towards the sky, the vision of display before me left me breathless.

Appearing in the clouds was an unusual sight. Amidst the darkened clouds, was the clear image of a glowing, white butterfly. The wingspan overshadowing the seaside instilled in me that somehow from the “other side” my sweet angel was letting me know, she would forever be with me.

I cannot explain what I saw or rationalize the vibrant depiction over the pacific and I had no need to delve further into the matter. I know what I saw gave me hope; a desire to cling further to my faith and a need to carry onward. However, it lent itself to a theory known as the butterfly effect, which is the dependence on initial conditions, where a small change at one place in a nonlinear system can result in large differences to a later state. The name of the effect was coined by Edward Lorenz. It intrigued me, yet I smiled, knowing my observations were somehow meant just for me.

This experience and others I indulged in did not make me immune to strife; if anything it opened me up to it more and the unfolding of other beautiful stories.  Soon, I would discover The Heart Pebble Movement was only beginning to make its ripple effects known.    

By T L. Alton

*Quote by Sue Monk Kidd

Seaside Remembrance

Whether a visitor or kama'aina (resident), the beauty of the Hawaiian Islands inspires the heart and mind.  ~ Unknown

My time spent in Maui exposed me to layers of sadness that were interwoven with its beauty andunearthed to me on a daily basis. On my second day, I partook in a snorkeling/boat tour. This would prove to be a challenge as this was not just another day in paradise; this was Shayla’s 22^nd birthday- without her. I was not feeling well and did not want to get out of my bed, let alone prepare for an early boat/ snorkeling cruise. As I showered, the tears cascading down the drain, I trembled from the grief trapped inside. There would be no cake, no gifts and essentially, no guest.  I had opened a new door to walk thru, a trapdoor of emotions where I would spend my daughter’s birthday in 22 years, without my babygirl. I had booked a tour to spend most of the day underwater; appropriately so as then I could hide my crying.

Our first stop was to Molokini Crater, well-known for its clear water and incredible array of undersea life, including Milletseed Butterfly fish.  After I spent some time snorkeling at Molokini, the boat tour made a second stop at "Turtle Town" where I swam along with Hawaiian green sea turtles. These brilliant reptiles are endangered and carefully guarded, so they are not disrupted in their natural habitat. While coasting along in the pacific waters, we were given an extraordinary display of Humpback whales. These outstanding views granted us dazzling photo opportunities of these creatures and the majestic Maui coast. For the most part, I was doing well, that was until the Captain of the boat announced that two guests on board were celebrating…birthdays. He encouraged everyone onboard to sing not once, but twice, the stinging melody of Happy Birthday. I glanced over the boat, to see if it was possible to jump overboard. Not wanting to bring the others down, I chimed in while the whole time I wished for a tidal wave to sweep me over. Afterwards, the music was put on to blare through the speakers. The salty air settled into me and with emotions riding high, I was not prepared for the next thing to happen. As the song began to play, I burst into tears. It was one of Shayla’s favourites. A British group called “The Kooks” were introduced to my daughter thru my English boyfriend. The lyrics are about the sea and the melody is called “Seaside.” I simply could not hold it in any longer and wept openly.

Arriving back, I decided to take a stroll along the beach. I found a petite bit of coral that was heart shaped. During this time to myself, I had accepted that my grief was rooted and bound up in the love I had for Shayla. It was as if Mother Nature had opened my spirit and revealed to me forms of splendour that was always at my feet. Throughout the brilliance of being in Maui, I dispersed pebbles of Shayla’s in unexpected places. On this special day of remembrance, I have chosen not to share where I put everyone.

I ended the night by lounging by the moonlight at the pool and before I retired to slumber, I snapped a few lovely photos to remind me of this day. It was something of a hidden treasure to find I was graced with strength that I never believed I had. In the days to come, I would trust in the process unfolding and discover my beloved daughter was with me, in memories and always in my heart.

http://youtu.be/ZvR8tEi5x98

By T L. Alton

Between the Sand and Stone

Grief is an unusual companion to take with you on a vacation in paradise; yet in February of this year, I found myself on a trip to Maui, with sorrow as my guide.

Embarking on a solo journey that was meant for two is like winning the lottery and finding out you have a terminal illness at the same time. Death threatened to further inflict pain by thrusting me into a vacation from hell. How could I possibly go to a place where it was our dream as mother and daughter to travel together and be without the other half of my soul?

On the plane, there was no room for my weary body to rest; if for one moment I gave into the notion of relaxation then I knew a meltdown would ensue. I forced myself to stay awake and struck up a conversation with another Canadian couple, bound for tropical bliss.  I had with me a bear created by Shayla at buildabearville.com that she made for me years earlier. It had a pink ballerina dress on and my daughter had placed a plastic red heart inside. When you squeeze the left paw, it activates a recorder with Shayla’s voice tenderly saying to me: “I love you shoobie woop woop do woop.” This sentiment is something we shared ever since she learned to talk. As I spoke to this couple, the woman inquired about the bear. It led me to tell the personal grief journey of my daughter’s life and her tragic death.

I have learned in Grief Group that sharing is part of the healing process. For me, it really is not so much the need to heal, but to express that this person existed in this world and their legacy carries on. It is a two-fold process in which I have become a storyteller of Shayla’s existence. It has become my quest to weave a tapestry of words into tales of epic adventures we shared, her compassionate heart, and how this young woman of 21 yrs seized every opportunity life granted her.

I told these vacationers about The Heart Pebble Movement, while teardrops fell upon the teddy bear Shayla named, “Babygirl,” – my nickname for her.  I told these strangers sitting beside me, how this precious child changed my life in ways so extraordinary, that I had always felt she was an angel here on earth. My daughter’s waves of love came in forms of notes she would write for me on napkins, the lids of her finished yogurt and even scrawled on to the back of grocery lists. In January, upon packing her unfinished life, I found more of these sentiments, and became overwhelmed with emotions. Slumping against the wall, I tried to scream out the remnants of her death, but only silence clung to my fragmented heart.  For me, it is a necessity to express my grieving journey, as revelations of her untimely passing, had to be freed. I did not want to wear the mask of normalcy when the reality was my world was being tossed upside down. When explaining the pebble movement, I could sense this couple truly cared about the cause.  I told them of my plans to release over a half dozen of stones all over Maui, in honour and memory of Shayla. I expressed my hurt that this would be the first birthday in 22 years that I would not be sharing with her. Upon landing in Maui and leaving the plane, I knew my daughter’s imprint had been left behind.

This solo trip would find me facing many challenges; one being I am a directionally-challenged person and get lost in a parking lot. Now all alone on an island, I had to walk the path by myself, get on board shuttle buses and find my hotel. Yet, the minute I arrived surrounded by colorful lei’s and beams of sunshine, the first thing I did was breathe. I allowed the salty atmosphere to inhabit my fatigued body; a reminder that I was encircled by the stunning beauty of Hawaii.  

Checking into my Hotel, I threw everything down and changed into my bathing suit and a cover-up. Suddenly, my cheeks were wet once again from my tears…how could I have been in England only 4 days earlier with my partner and now I was in all alone in Maui? I went to the bathroom and splashed my face with water. Turning around, I knew I could not remain in the room, by myself…at least not yet.

Once outside, I checked the pool area and thought it may be a good idea to lounge around and relax. If anything I have learned since Shayla’s death is that an idle mind is not a good thing. I tried to focus on the how the rays of sun were lighting up my tired frame. Moments later, flashes of the hospital, cleaning out my daughters smashed vehicle and her Celebration of Life, were thrust to the forefront of my mind. I lingered for only 10 more minutes, jumped into the pool and decided to go for a walk. As I neared the beach, I was greeted with an exceptional view of nature’s wand spreading hues of lavender, yellows and tints of blue, across the skyline. I took off my sandals and let my feet dig into the sand that felt like a warm hug for your toes. I watched as the colour danced a waltz of fusion, spread across a Maui horizon. Soon, a wall of people had gathered and I would learn this was a nightly event; a free show of brilliance delivered in the sky we gazed upon.

Once the sun had set, I decided to walk. Much like Forrest Gump, I travelled miles-without a sense of purpose-I strolled over the main beach, then onto the next one and so on. Along the way, I saw couples wrapped around each other, where one person ended, the next one began immersed in rapture. There were children, full of glee as the waves tickled their feet and they chased after a next wave. I saw an old weathered man, leaning against a tree-seemingly not a care in the world. As I carried on, I searched for pebbles for my own collection. I found round, smooth ones, volcanic rocks and even an inuksuk, signifying “Someone was here.” As out of place I had felt, now amongst the sand and stones…I felt welcomed. As if the island had brought me here to be part of this incredibly painful journey, to participate in things that would alter my world in a healing way.

For those who have suffered the loss of a child, it is the discovery of grace and nature’s remedy, which can inspire comforting strength.  I would come to realize in my 9 days in Maui, the courage I needed to survive myself and this trip, would be found on the ocean floor of the Pacific.

By T L. Alton

The Broken Ones

“No, you don't know what it's like
When nothing feels all right
You don't know what it's like
To be like me
To be hurt
To feel lost
To be left out in the dark
To be kicked when you're down
To feel like you've been pushed around
To be on the edge of breaking down
And no one's there to save you
No, you don't know what it's like
Welcome to my life” ― Simple Plan

The chorus to this song by Simple Plan echoes the desperation of 15 yr old Amanda Todd. The teenager who resided in Port Coquitlam, British Columbia ended her life after years of struggling with being bullied both in school and on the internet. This fall, Amanda posted a video on YouTube:  My Story, Struggling, Bullying, Suicide, Self –harm. A month later, her life was taken. After her death, her video has been viewed millions of times.  This young girl`s heartbreaking cry for help sadly was unheard while she was still alive. Now, with her untimely death and the motivation behind it has sparked an outcry across the world. While many have been quick to point out her life was taken by herself, social media is the catalyst in which she met an early demise.

Amanda`s death resonated with me as it brought back terrible memories of my daughter`s life spent warding off the evils of bullies who were her own peers. Shayla was a larger than life girl in many extraordinary ways. The day she was born she was 10 1bs, 10 oz., she measured in at 2 ft long. When she was brought to me in the hospital, she was already wearing 4 month old baby clothing. Along with every ripple and large body, Shayla had a massive golden heart to match. She loved to make people laugh and it became her security blanket, when other kids picked on her for her bulky size.

I know now reading through her journals that my daughter encountered bullies from Kindergarten up until her 2^nd year of University. Never wanting me to worry, Shayla masked her pain with being the `class clown`…playing her role became as natural as breathing. I recall her coming home, her cheeks flush and stinging from the tears falling down. I always asked what was going on, but Shayla would shrug it all off. Then one day, I thought I would surprise her and go pick my babygirl up from elementary school. I parked and was waiting at the side of the road, when another mother came up to me and casually mentioned that even though Shayla was in Grade 4, she played with the kids in Grades 1 and 2, so that she was not teased by her classmates. My heart was crushed when I saw Shayla come from her class and immediately went to the younger kids to hang out with.  To this day, it angers me to think when I brought this to the Teachers and Principals attention, Shayla was blamed. She was a goofy kid, seeking attention and nobody wanted to play with as she went out of her to be noticed. Looking back now, I am thoroughly convinced that some of those in authority were just as much as to blame as the bullies! My child was called fatty, stinky, ugly, a weirdo. She hid so much thinking it WILL get better…It HAS to she wrote.

In High School, a mentor to Shayla would find her curled up under his office desk, bawling excessively and let her be as he knew this was her `safe place.`  The bullies were now bigger, more threatening and had means of social media to menace their victims. The caustic, primitive words of elementary were now replaced with slut, stench, hideous and freak.

Upon going to University, Shayla was thrilled with the new beginnings. She believed life would be different, while her peers more accepting. Finally she would find a sense of companionship with those she would share classes. The first time I received a desperate call from my daughter, I wanted to get into my car and demand the bullies to stop. It was only a handful of girls, yet they were putting a vulnerable, young girl through hell! If, miles away I felt helpless, who knows how much misery Shayla was enduring? Since she was living in a tiny jail-like dorm room at university, it was as if that area became her cell. Only after her death, did I find out the true degree of what occurred that first year. I don`t think those responsible for the tormenting realize the pain they caused her, but the glaring words in her journals reflect a girl masking the pain, by putting up walls and being `mouthy` back to them.  Shortly after Shayla passed away, I acquired her laptop. The poetry and images expose the ugliness of bullying for what it is- a cat and mouse game, in which the mouse is already caught in a mousetrap, while the cat evilly tortures the wounded victim. While all of this caused me a great deal upon my grieving, I also found something that made me realize that try as they might to take away Shayla`s care-free spirit, they had failed miserably! I have numerous video footage of my daughter in her white washed dorm room, singing songs of empowerment! In the many videos, her voice fills the corners of her tiny room. I started to cry when I saw my babygirl as I was overwhelmed with her again in motion. Then my heart burst with pride seeing the tank top she was wearing. When Shayla had come for a visit, she fell in love with my shirt. I gave it to her and it is the one in the videos, my daughter is wearing.  The front of it expresses everything Shayla stood for what she believed: `PEACE, LOVE HOPE. `

The sad irony of the bullying case of Amanda Todd is this beautiful young, girl-who no one noticed before- is now a name spoken across a nation. For in life, her haunting word’s I HAVE NOBODY, I NEED SOMEONE, is contradictory to how now she has the world`s attention…

I offer my heartfelt sympathies to Amanda Todd’s family and friends; no words can convey the unimaginable loss all of you are feeling.

I Dedicate this song to those who FEEL ALONE, in hopes that others REACH OUT to let them know they are Not Alone!

 Dia Frampton - The Broken Ones: https://youtu.be/Zz04teo1j9k

 By T L. Alton

You Must Be the CHANGE You Want to See in this WORLD ~ Gandhi

The Legacy Stone

Today, my intention was to continue blogging about my trip to Maui in February of this year. When I awoke, the sorrowfulness marking this particular day was going to take my words on its own journey of the heart.  

It was ten months ago, a Police Officer stood in my home, delivering the phrase of death that changed my world, “I am sorry to tell you but…”

In this post I will not be dwelling on something that I will never, even as a writer for over twenty –years is able to convey. Therefore, I want to share about the lasting tribute I am working on and is connected to the road where her life was lost.

McKinley Landing, on the outskirts of Kelowna, British Columbia is a winding, often treacherous stretch of road that coils around a reservoir and brings people out to the stunning views of Okanagan Lake. The tight-knit community and picturesque scenery were the reasons for my former husband to buy a home and settle in the area.

Shayla grew up for nine years in the McKinley Landing suburbs as I shared custody of our daughter, after her father and I divorced. From the very first frightening moments of driving along the terrible road, I cursed it under my breath. With it dips, curves, and sheer drops of the road, I never did like to travel on it.

Last year, a happy occasion blessed the family with a new addition to the family. In December, Shayla called me from Kamloops, announcing she was taking a solo trip to see her family. I was apprehensive and tried to convince my daughter to either wait for her father to come pick her up or else take the bus in January. She was determined to make the trek herself and much to my relief, arrived safely at her destination. It was not until December 12 that Shayla, driving out from her father’s on a brilliant sky blue day, would not reach her destination- her sisters in Kelowna.

This year, Mayor and Council gave approval for over a half million dollars to fix the road.  I championed for change as my daughter’s voice was silenced. I continue to stand up for her and others. Now because of these safety road measures becoming complete, this road will save lives, not take them! For me, this is nowhere near what I could have ever imagined my life would be consumed with. Yet as a bereaved parent, I simply could not remain quiet and bring death to another family, because I didn’t do anything. Instead, it has been my heart desire to see the barricades and road being widened. Most of all changes to McKinley Landing Road are now happening because my daughter’s life was taken. I plan on being back in Kelowna at the end of November, as a permanent memorial will be installed, in memory of my daughter.

Today, on the 10 month mark of the greatest loss to me, I spent time designing the memorial. It was created with all things reflective of Shayla. I am not yet able to share the whole creation, but it will be formed using an oversize piece of granite stone.  The symbolism associated with it is that it is considered a "guardian stone" that offers protection.  When granite is extracted from the ocean floor, it is believed that the stone helps keep emotions calm, because it contains both elements of the ocean and the grounding properties of earth.  Reflective of who Shayla was; it is a vision of a peacekeeper in many senses. It also aids in diplomacy and improves people's cooperation. I know Shayla would want to open my eyes to see the bigger picture more clearly instead of overwhelmed with all of the negativity surrounding her loss. The placement of this stone embraces the tranquil beauty of the reservoir while it echoes the golden heart of my daughter.

Tomorrow I will meet with the company who will hopefully be able to envision my design and plans, further constructing the monument. It is my desire to have it installed permanently and placed as travellers enter McKinley Landing Road, before all of the stretch of barricades begins. There will also be room to go and pay tribute to Shayla, as many have asked if they would be able to place a flower or simply view the memorial.

This ‘unfinished business’ matters to me, to our daughter’s family and friends.  It is a mark of respect for a young woman, whose incomplete dreams of making her imprint on this world, will be honoured in a way that no one could have ever imagined.

By T L. Alton

The Underside of Grief in Paradise

After arriving home from England, back in February, I would depart within a few days to Maui on a solo trip. This was not a vacation, rather a journey to embrace the unbearable…my daughter’s 22^nd birthday.

Growing up, Shayla always made special occasions as centerpieces uniting us to life. She simply did not join in a celebration; my daughter was the party in itself. Her laughter filled every corner of the room, her comedic faces and impromptu dancing turned the quietest space into a lively sphere of entertainment.

In October 2011, my partner and I had travelled to Hawaii and spent 3 weeks in paradise. I blogged daily about our epic adventures and Shayla followed along. One day, I sent her a message in a bottle, from Oahu. I was home back in Canada, long before it arrived to her in Kamloops. The glee that came from within her when she received it was well worth the anticipated wait. She proudly showed her friends and told her family about her special Hawaiian souvenir. When we spoke last November, and I asked her if there was any place she would like to go for her birthday, I was elated to hear her answer, “Hawaii, of course, would be awesome momma!”  Even though it was not financially possible for me to afford the trip at that time, I knew someday we would go together as mother and daughter. What I had not counted on was for her life to be taken only a month later and my world was changed forever.

After her passing, I was contacted from someone I had not seen or spoken to in almost ten years. They made me a kind-hearted offer, I could not refuse. They presented me with the means to travel anywhere I wanted for the first upcoming birthday in 22 years, without my babygirl. I did not hesitate and found myself only days before February 24, 2011, on a plane, by myself to Maui. I was nervous at travelling on my own and also worried how I would handle the impending birthday of my daughter.

The next two blogs will cover more in detail, the tender fragments of my voyage into the unknown…I would discover much about my own self and let faith be my teacher on this uncertain journey.

By Tonya Alton

Where History Embraces Travelling Stones

Earlier this year, I reconnected with an old friend of mine; someone who had attended, along with her husband, Shayla’s Celebration of Life and paid respect by their attendance. This woman and her family had seen my daughter grow up, as we were all part of a neighbourhood where our doors were always open to the children in the area.

On many occasions throughout my life she had listened to my woes of marriage, child rearing and my own insecurities as a parent.  She was someone who was well educated and kind to me, even after I was divorced. We shared coffees and meals together; while I continued on my quest for stability. Her kindness came in many forms, for over the years my friend bought me gifts, treated me to things I could never afford and at Christmas was generous to always put something extra in my card.

There are friendships that may seem one-sided, off balance in the sense that one does not feel equal to the other. This, while unintentional, was exactly how I felt. I never believed I was equal in her eyes, only because that is how I made myself accept as true. On the contrary, this friend was deeply supportive; enriching my life with her enthusiastic support of my writing career. In her company I always felt comforted by the warmth of her friendship. The difference for me came down to social status. I was never in a position to feel financially secure and over time, felt less adequate.

After Shayla’s passing, I never expected to speak again. Yet, one night I felt compelled to reach out and call her. What I was not expecting to hear was grand stories of adventures, inspired by The Heart Pebble Movement.

My friend had the wonderful opportunity to travel with one of her friends to the Amazon. They joined in several preplanned activities. In my friends pocket were several agate stones she had gathered from her beach in front of her home on Okanagan Lake in Lake Country, British Columbia. What interested in me right away about this journey is the lake she collected her pebbles from. The massive waters connect around to Shayla’s father’s home, where my daughter had spent countless hours in the summertime, swimming.

It was my friends plan to place several of these agates in special places in South America. On the dugout canoe tour of the Amazon River, word had spread quickly of the movement in memory of Shayla. At some point, the boat tour operator asked: “Does everyone have their pebbles for Shayla?” As numerous woman nodded in agreement, it was a collective effort as they placed their stones in the Amazon River for my daughter.

On her journey, my friend was able to find herself on top of the 15th-century Inca site located 2,430 metres above sea level; Machu Picchu. She spent her time searching for the perfect spot for her agate. Voted one of the new Seven Wonders of the World, this UNESCO World Heritage Site and Peruvian Historical Sanctuary is considered “sacred geography.” When she departed, a pebble from thousands of miles away, remained behind.

The last of her agates found its way into a Peruvian Village, where in a small hut a mother was busy cooking food for her family. As my friend entered, she saw a young girl. Approaching her, she opened up her hand as the child peeked watchfully, her eyes fixed on the pebble. Pointing to it, she said: “Shae- Shae.” My friend motioned for the girl to take it. Slowly, the girl got a hold of the agate into her small hand and began skipping along the inside of the hut. With a smile upon her face, she clutched the stone and began chanting: “Shae- Shae!”

Listening to these stories over the telephone, I was taken aback by the sheer beauty; the brilliant impact of how a pebble can bring change and inspiration.  In sharing her expeditions with me, my friend made me believe in her paying tribute was an offering of peace. In a world that has been filled with much chaos and sorrow, I welcomed the kind-hearted gestures that saw our paths cross over for a second time.

Even though we shared moments of bliss through this cause, once again we have parted each other’s company. It seems that change has thrust us forward and our friendship has not endured. However, what remains is a connection to one another to places where the travelling pebbles linger on.  

By T L. Alton

The Legacy of Loss Imprinted On a Pebble

When dealing with grief, I have found there is no natural order in how to cope with such immeasurable loss. Therefore, my posts reflect the fragmentation of what I have endured and what I am experiencing.

Sometimes, I feel the need to speak in the present, while other times I revert back to the past. In going back in time, it often feels like crumbling moments of blissful memories, which I yearn to cling to.  For those who read and understand the correlation between the two, I commend you for climbing aboard and being part of The Heart Pebble Movement.

As I have blogged before of my trip to England earlier this February, there are more pictures and stories where fine selections of Shayla’s pebbles were placed. Before departing for Europe, I had spent hours looking through my daughter’s assortment of gems, stones, pebbles and rocks. Prior to this, I thought they were all the same in nature, but days pouring over research, looking in books and turning to Google, convinced me otherwise. Everything in nature has a meaning; a spiritual link to Mother Nature and the surrounding earth.  When choosing the ones I would take with me to England, I wanted strong pebbles which stood for courage and strength. I favoured Agate as it assists in promoting these two qualities and compels prosperity and happiness. I also chose a wonderful chunk of Hematite, as it absorbs negativity and is calming.  For me, the placing of these pebbles, gems etc. are just as key as to which one I am drawn to.

In the downtown heart of London at Trafalgar Square, I placed a tiny piece of Agate at The Four Horses of Helios Fountain. Before Shayla passed away, she was working on a University paper related to Helios. The direct parallel between these powerful horses and the courage my daughter summoned in dealing with life’s tribulations instilled in me, the need to honour her by this simple gesture.  Over the course of nine days, I would pick special locations where I felt compelled to release Shayla’s pebbles. One of these places was in Cambridge, at a bridge where the pristine beauty and elegance of England shone thru. The very last pebble was in a setting that held fond memories for my partner. This was near his hometown, where he and his brothers would gather and skip rocks into the millpond. Ducks swam on by and created a stream, which was flowing in the trench, from this pool of water. His mother drove us out to the area.  I believe it was finally then that she understood what this movement dedicated to my daughter, meant to me; a grieving mother.

 This journey was not a vacation by any means; rather an extension of meeting my partner’s family and friends and the chance to share about The Heart Pebble Movement. It was an opportunity for them to see what death could never take away…Shayla’s extraordinary legacy.

By T L. Alton

Gratitude without Technology

At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.  ~Albert Schweitzer

I pondered over whether to post a blog on gratitude this Thanksgiving weekend in Canada. The harsh reality of opening my heart is such a paradox that the mere notion I have something to be thankful for is illogical. Since Shayla’s passing I have come thru three seasons; times of the year that saw me move in slow motion thru spring, summer, autumn and soon full circle into December.

When my daughter died unexpectedly, I found my senses more in tune than ever before. I began to notice things that previous would have merely passed me by, without a care. I started to watch people and their interaction with one another, or lack of it. Having dinner with my partner, I watched in disdain as another couple seated by us, had their cell phones on and were texting. It was clear it was not each other and I wanted to walk up to them and ask: “How would you feel if suddenly one of you died? Would whoever you are texting really matter?”  

My heightened sense of tuning into those who are tuning out took a whole new level of condescension when I was stopped at a traffic light. Glancing over to the play yard of a local School, I was astounded to see a mother speaking on her cell; her back was to her child on a swing. She was robotically pushing the chain link, uninterested in any connection to her youngster.  This should have been a special bonding moment between mother and child. Now as a result of intrusive technology, the connection was severed by a small device, robbing them of their precious time.

For me, it is an unforgiving slap on my face when I am witness to a society that has never been so connected by technology, yet so disconnected by means of real communication.

As a bereaved parent, I yearn to hold my child’s hand in mine, to smell her jasmine perfume lingering on her favourite sweatshirt. I want to twirl her wisps of coloured hair in my fingertips and swap clothes as we burst into laughter over nothing.

This holiday weekend, I won't do any of those things that we take for granted. Instead, I will place pebbles for a life ended far too soon! I will recall how with Shayla, she was an incredible light in my world. The deep connection we shared was unparallel to any other person I have known.

If there is anything I am thankful for this Thanksgiving is that I was blessed for twenty-one years, with a spark of life, that when we shared love, we embraced from our hearts the flame within each of us.

~ T L. Alton 

Shayla ~ I WAS HERE

I Was Here ~ Beyonce

I wanna leave my footprints on the sands of time

Know there was something that, and something that I left behind

When I leave this world, I'll leave no regrets

Leave something to remember, so they won't forget

I was here...

I lived, I loved

I was here...

I did, I've done, everything that I wanted

And it was more than I thought it would be

I will leave my mark so everyone will know

I was here...

http://youtu.be/CpIDR9I7hbM

The lapse in my posts was due to me travelling back, over nine months later to the crash site where my daughter, Shayla died on December 12, 2011. The trip was full of myriad bursts of emotions. To be standing at the exact spot where your child passed away, is to invite a thousand splinters of pain, into an open wound. The first time back since then, I closed my eyes and breathed in the invisible snowflakes that once fell on last Christmas, where I kneeled in layers of frost; the crunching of my weary soul ensnared in that tragic day. This trip was inexplicably different. Even though once again it saw me stay at Shayla’s father house, a deep sense of relief overwhelmed my broken spirit. Only minutes away from the reservoir our daughter crashed into, this is the road he has to travel everyday, which claimed the life of a young woman full of promise. I could never do this as the images of that twisted day remain and was thankful I lived far away. Unknown to me, during these travels, I would expose my tattered heart to those who shared my anguish.  I have discovered the mysterious journey of grief is something that attaches on the sentiments to the person that is being mourned.  Through the creation of The Heart Pebble Movement, it has sanctioned a cause that anyone can participate in and allow the release of emotions to travel as a companion, by its side.

During my week stay, I would find myself drawn to this wide hole of the McKinley Reservoir that seemed to play a game of hide and seek; to remind me that this basin water was here first and I had to come to terms with its magnitude. One of the first things I needed to do, was to clean up the roadside memorial, I had created when Shayla passed away. I found items that still remained and things that were gone.  I knew I had to breathe new life into this spot, where my daughter’s vehicle had crashed and flipped over a 30 ft embankment.  I was to do this for many reasons; yet the main one was to remind those travelling to slow down! It was agony to see vehicles speed by, as if my precious babygirl meant nothing to them! There were times I had to move suddenly out of the way as a car sped around that treacherous McKinley Landing corner.  I was shocked at the disregard for a road that previous to Shayla’s tragic death had seen many others go into the McKinley Landing Reservoir. The only difference was those people had been blessed to survive! No one is immune from the clutches of that road, with soft gravel sides and unpredictable black ice conditions; it is a menace to those who under estimate its wickedness, travelling upon the asphalt. After I spent my time cleaning up the memorial, I went into town and over the next few days, added a yellow teddy bear, fresh flowers, several angel ornaments, and a new photograph of Shayla. I tied two letters onto the memorial: S.D. (Shayla Driver) I would later find out many people travelling on the road would see it as a strong reminder to “SLOW DOWN!”  I also held in the palm of my hand, three precious pebbles from my daughter’s collection. These stones all represented something of value. Snowflake Obsidian for TRUTH, Botswana Agate for RELEASE and Aventurine for HEALING of HEART, MIND and SOUL. ..One by one, they were tossed into the McKinley Landing Reservoir. I stood knowing change would soon be coming to this treacherous road and new beginnings were to occur, because of my greatest loss…other lives would be saved. Suddenly, I looked down upon my sandals covered with endless droplets from my fatigued body. I closed my eyes and this time I heard crickets, the water lapping at the extended shoreline and I breathed in autumn. A wave of sentiments overcame me, knowing I had not been able to start the grieving needed to release the thunder crashing within.

There is more to this unforeseen voyage I have taken with strength that I can only describe as Heaven sent. Am I fragmented into sections of grief that I do not even understand? Yes!…in more places I can begin to describe. I may not understand what my role in this world is now, but I am certain that Shayla’s death was not in vain! On October 1^st, work began on McKinley Road that will see safety measures installed.  Fours day before, I had been asked to remove the temporary memorial as construction crews would place it in a bin. There is no words to describe the feelings surging through me as I took piece by piece, the things I had placed a week before. After wards, all that remained was dirt, the markers and solitude.  Searching for a rock, I found a large stone and placed it at the crash site, upon an envelope that had inside a card, from me, thanking the crew who would work on the road. It was a gentle reminder that because of my daughter’s tragic death, that CHANGE finally came to McKinley Landing! For Shayla Rae Dawn Driver, has left her mark as a Concrete Angel – someone who watches over those in that area, in the darkest of nights, my babygirl will indeed shine the light!  The road repairs will be done by November 15^th, 2011. Our family has been given approval for a permanent roadside memorial.  Next weekend, I am to meet with the design team who we want to commission the commemorative monument. It is our hope to see it installed before the one year mark of our daughter’s death.

One side note to this is I found out last week, at a Safety Measures Meeting, that a memorial bench has been purchased in Shayla’s name and as an honour to this extraordinary, young woman. It will be placed somewhere near Okanagan Lake or in the McKinley Landing residential area. I was informed by a lady name Diane about the bench creation. I was moved to tears that others value what Shayla gave in order for alterations to be made to the terrible stretch of road. There are those who have been supportive and shown compassion to me. I wish I could say that everyone felt this way.

What matters to me is this winter; a bus driver with a load of children will be able to drive McKinley knowing it has been made safer! I use to tell my daughter that someday she would “MOVE MOUNTAINS!” Now, as I dream of better days, I know that my sweet angel has literally accomplished that and much more!