Author: Hayley’s Mom

Disclaimer:  I enjoyed my vacation, I am thankful for my vacation and spending that much time with my longest friend was exactly what I needed.  Therefore if I say anything negative please refer to the disclaimer.

Hayley and I had plans.  Big Plans, small plans, all kinds of plans.  We planned to buy or rent a little motor home or trailer and start seeing the National Parks.  Our goal was to see them all before she was 40.  Our time.  We planned to start this summer.  We planned for me to retire when she had a baby and provide child care.  We planned to go to Disneyland for my 47th birthday, Hawaii for my 50th.  In October I mentioned to my friend, Sara, about the Disneyland trip.  We have been friends since 1987.  She was present at Hayley’s birth and at Hayley’s death.  We went to the same college, pledged the same sorority.  You can’t ask for more in a friend.  Sara was the maid of honor at our wedding.  There was a space in the middle where we had some time apart, but we are stronger for it.  She loved Hayley.

My birthday is January 24th, hers January 28th and Scott, February 1st.  For many years as we became legal adults the three of us celebrated our birthdays together, usually on Sara’s, as it fell in the middle.  I asked her, “hey want to spend our Birthdays in Disneyland?”  The trip developed thanks to a generous hotel discount provided by another old friend to include time at the beach.  We left Tuesday night late and came back Monday evening.  We had a little bit of an adventure on my birthday eve Tuesday.  We chose to go for location with our hotel and not fancy.  Plus it was smack between Denny’s and IHOP.  What more could you ask for?  It was right at the gate and since we were concerned about how much walking my body would allow, it seemed perfect.  We went to Denny’s for a late night dinner that turned into my midnight birthday meal.  We crashed at the hotel excited and worried about Disneyland in the morning.  As soon as I got in the bed I was already bitching in my head about the rough sheets.  Then when I noticed that Sara can still fall asleep almost as soon as her head hit her gross pillow. As a lifelong insomniac, that kind of pissed me off too.

About 15 minutes into my attempt to sleep I started to itch on the side I was laying on.  WTF.  I went into the bathroom and my arms looked like they had been sunburned.  My feet, ankles and arms, anything exposed and touching the sheets were bright red, itchy and uncomfortable.  I fought for a couple of hours of sleep.  During the night I found a Springhill Marriott that had availability and prepared myself to let Sara know.  When she woke up I told her we had a problem.  During the night I had messaged my mother.  Her advice?  Pull the sheets back and look for bed bug poop!  Yeah, that did NOT help.  Hell no, I didn’t check.  Sara being the easy going one said no problem.  We went to the front office, got out of our reservation and moved to the Springhill where there was a room already available for us at 10 am.  The front desk gal, Myra and I were chatting. It’s kind of what I do.  Somehow due to the #belikehayley bracelet we shared losess and it came out that she had lost her baby son recently, he had been born at 5 months and only lived 2 days.  She said she knows how she feels after knowing him for 2 days she could not imagine losing 19 years of memories and surviving.  I gave her a Hayley bracelet.

The room looked exactly like the one in Bellingham.  Identical.  I thought that would be hard.  So many nights spent in Bellingham with Hayley at that hotel over the past few years.  But it actually surprised me.  It felt comforting, the familiar.  Plus the sheets were super nice and very clean!  No rash!  It was meant to be.  My friend, Stacy, was coming to Anaheim for her son’s Hockey tournament.  She had said she was staying at the Marriott but I didn’t know if our schedules were going to mesh.  Well get this.  She walks into her hotel and the gal at the counter notices her blue be like Hayley bracelet while she is checking in and demands to know where she got it.  Stacy told her about her friend and Hayley.  That is when Myra pulled her sleeve up and showed her the blue bracelet that adorned her wrist!  What?  Myra told her we were there.  Stacy messaged me and said we were in the same hotel.  For the entire day Sara and I tried to figure out how she would know this?  I had not told anyone where we were.  It was perplexing but I was happy I would see her on my birthday.  Well that wasn’t all the information Stacy got out of Myra.  Stacy is from New Jersey, enough said.  When we walked to our room the door was decorated with hanging streamers in the Troll movie theme with a birthday card on the door!  Sara and I felt like we were back on Dance Team and at State where we decorated our doors.  We left it up the rest of the time we were there.

Even though the ride was closed for refurbishment, it truly was a Small World!

In the past two weeks I have been trying something new; getting out of the house for more than the basics.  Store, Hair, Nails, Pick up Henry; those basics. Trust me the Hair and Nails are few and far between.  The last Hair appointment I did get some royal blue highlights for Hayley’s cause and favorite color.  I figured this is the time to experiment.  For months I have been asked to get out, but I usually said no.  Well to be honest what happen the most is I say yes then change my mind at the last minute when I just can not stand the idea of being social.  I have started to warn people; “my answer is subject to change”.  A couple of Saturdays ago I was not given a choice.  This was new.  I was still in my PJS at 5:00 and trying to make a dent in the house projects when I sat down at the computer for a moment.  A message from a long time friend popped up “what are you doing?”.  I debated, pretend I didn’t see it or answer out of curiosity to see where it goes.  She said “I need you to be my date tonight, be ready in an hour”.  I don’t think so, as I sniffed my pits.  I politely declined.  Her response, ” I was not asking, I am telling you I am picking you up in an hour and you will have fun”.  I laughed out loud thinking to myself, I don’t have fun anymore, I tolerate fun, or I fake fun.  Nothing is fun without Hayley.  I told Scott what was going on.  Instead of supporting my need to stay home, he said, you should go, sounds fun.  What sounds fun?  I don’t know where we are going or for how long?  I asked her 20 questions.  When, Where, Who What?  I hate surprises.  Will it be illegal?  Is vandalism involved?  Will I need bail?  What do I wear?

She said I will be there at 6, said she needed to get out herself and then ignored all of my questions.  I quickly showered wondering wtf we were doing.  I hate surprises.  I stood at the bottom of our driveway at 6.  Along came a car with a different friend and her husband that had recently retired and moved away, Is this part of my surprise?  Turns out I ruined HER surprise. She was planning to anonymously sneak a pretty painted rock on to my porch.  It was the nicest thing to do.  She waited with me for friend number 1 that was basically kidnapping me.  She arrived, off we went with me bitching my head off about it.  My negative mojo, “I am only doing this for you since you have gave me no choice and I have not seen you in so long. I really hate surprises.  Freeway? Where the fuck are we going?”

“Fine I can tell you now”, she said.  She assumed I would not try to get out of the car at 60 mph.  We are going to Gay bingo.  WHAT?  Gay Bingo?  Am I really your “date”?  She said it is fun and it is in Fremont.  WHAT?  We are going to Seattle, ugh.  It turned out to be a huge, hundreds of people, event and fundraiser for a big AIDs foundation.  That is fabulous.  It was seriously entertaining.  I couldn’t resist the t-shirt that said “O 69; Grab my dauber”.  Next to us was a gal that truly had the most awful resting mean face.  I finally asked her, did my friend bump you or something?  This did not help.  We didn’t come close to bingo.  What was interesting was that I felt so odd.  I didn’t remember what fun felt like and it was disconcerting. I felt sort of invisible.  Can everyone see my grief?  Is it obvious?

I was happy to be spending time with one of my favorite friends.  A friend that had been through a lot with me over the years.  But I felt guilty, Hayley can’t have fun why should I.  I realized I need to do things for her, I was now responsible to have fun for her.  So I tried.  I succeeded until about 3/4 of the way through then I was seriously just done.  Someone called Bingo one minute and in my head I called I am done next.  I kept it to myself.  At this point I can only handle contact with groups of people for so long and then an alarm goes off in my head and I am done. When I am done it is a feeling of panic, I need to get home NOW.  It is a physical reaction.  I get hot, uncomfortable and shaky.  Grief is not just in your head.  It is not just emotions.  It is physical.  It causes physical pain, discomfort and hinders your ability to perform like a normal person.  Sometimes I fake it really well.  But my smile is fake.  Some people see it, some do not.  I appreciate that some people keep asking me to go out..  Most have stopped.  Which is totally fine.  I still feel taken care of.  But I wonder if people judge me.  That they think I should be getting well faster.  How do you undo 19 years of your life.  Everything for me revolved around Hayley and Henry.  But Henry is so easy, so it feels as if my life was all about her and our amazing friendship.  How do you live without that once you have it?  How do you feel thankful you had it when so many don’t?  Thankful is currently an off limits feeling.  Others that are banned; Grateful, Happy, patience, and Sympathy.  Sounds like Snow White, I should come up with the 7 dwarves of grief.  Another post.

I got home and took a long shower, cried until I was exhausted.  I wanted so desperately to tell Hayley I went to Gay Bingo and show her my t-shirt that I knew she would steal from me.  She needed to be having fun, not me.  The guilt is overwhelming.  The anxiety if I am gone for long is heightened.

Months ago I purchased Lewis Black tickets for Saturday the 20th.  I figured by then Scott and I might be ready to laugh.  I thought a comedian show would be a good option.  Scott had no interest in going so I brought an old friend.  We had a great dinner and the show was funny.  Prior to the show I saw that Lewis goes live at the ends of his shows and reads rants fans submit.  I sat down an hour before we left.  The funniest thing I could think of was my recent Arizona Airport Fart story.  I quickly typed out the not sanitized version.  Lots of ‘F’ Bombs.  It was about why do we have to be so judgmental of farts, everyone farts.  When he went live, he was only answering short questions and ranting himself.  I guess I misunderstood, he won’t read my long story.  I was relieved, and I had writer remorse.

Sunday night he had a second show.  Just as I was getting ready to go to sleep I looked at my phone one more time to see a friend I have not seen in 10 years had posted that she was at the 2nd night show and that Lewis Black had ready my story at that show.  In fact she said it brought down the house and that he closed with it and got a standing ovation.  WHAT?  When it was posted online, Scott and I watched it together.  I was nervous because I had sold him out a bit for comedic value.  But at the end he said that is fucking funny.  It felt nice to get a compliment from him, but at the same time he seemed surprised I was funny.  WTF, where has he been the last 27 years, I think I am hilarious.

Maybe my new job will be writing for comedians!  The moral of the story is that I am not ready for several hours out.  Shorter outings.  Comedy shows hurt.  I was uncomfortable in my seat and my face hurt from smiling for more than a fraction of a second.  My weight is making me so uncomfortable and is my number one priority right now, to get healthy so that I can battle this burden of grief with better tools.  Lately my coping tool has been “what would Hayley say? WWHS  I think what would Hayley say right now.  Sometimes it is obvious what she would say. But most of the time I can’t imagine her words.

The sadness, the darkness.  It is getting deeper.  She doesn’t answer.

 

www.lewisblack.com/live

Watch the live feed from 9/21, Seattle.  Minute 16.

 

This one is dedicated to my “new” friend, Shay.  We have literally been in the same rooms together over the years as school volunteers and Moms.  But we didn’t talk or become friends until Hayley’s death when she kept making me Chicken Pot Pies, which I did not share with Scott and Henry.  They didn’t appreciate them the way I did.  What is sad is that she is moving back to her homeland on the “other side”.  The East Coast.  We recently had breakfast together for the first time and it was fun.  Fun, a word I don’t use often.  I told her this story and she insisted I should share it with the masses.  So I will, but first the moral of the Shay/Dawn friendship.  Don’t forget to look up.  Look up from your phone.  Look around beyond your little group of friends.  Make a point to make one new friend at every school event, PTA meeting, etc.  Heck I have two friends probably reading this that I met on planes.  Social meeting sucks our time but it also allows us to collect people along the way in life.  I will forever be grateful to my Facebook network that has kept me going with everything from kind words to chicken pot pies on the porch.  I will miss Shay when she leaves, we seem like two peas in a pod.  So I plan to just steal all of her friends!

If you recall while in Arizona I became obsessed with the hotel bar and their amazing chili.  This was the best chili I have ever tasted.  It came in a pretty good size cast iron crock.  Like they hang over the fire on trail rides, not that I have been on a trail ride or do I plan to.  This magical chili came with homemade crackers.  It was meant to be shared.  The first night I may have let Scott have a few bites for show.  The second night I didn’t even try to hide the fact that not only was I going to eat the entire thing myself, I was still going to have the banana bread pudding in the mason jar.  So my nightly meal became chili in a crock and dessert in a mason jar.  It was truly Pinterest worthy.  But here is the problem.  Prior to our trip, my doctor added the medication Ambilify to my line up.  The hope was it would give me more energy and help the other medications work better.  I started off with a half and after two weeks worked my way up to a whole.  Right before the trip I noticed, how should I put this, I seem to be very noisy in the rump part of my body.  So I went to my goto WebMD specialist, my cousin, she did find in my list of meds that the Ambilify might have some gastrointestinal side effects.  Um, this was way more than “some”.  So during the trip I had gone back down to a half of a dose.  Unfortunately not prior to the chili love.  I truly felt like I was in one of those drug commercials.  You might be able to get out of bed but some patients might experience the following side effects:  “fecal incontinence, gas, heartburn, headaches, frequent urination, etc”.  Yes on the first one, but that is another story.

So here I am in Sedona having my own Chili eating contest.  Do you remember when you were dating your significant other?  How many dates or how many sleep overs before you tooted, poofed, passed gas, farted or whatever you want to call it, in front of your new love.  Here is the thing.  Scott and I have been married 22 years and together 27, most of those years we have slept in the same room.  During all of those years I have done everything possible not to fart in front of him.  No joke.  He is highly offended by it.  The few times it has slipped he has had what can only be described as a disgusted hissy fit.  Same with belching.  I know.  It IS ridiculous.  But I try to respect his pet peeves as they are not very many.  Now the kids, we let them rip in front of each other all the time.  Never with Scott around.  But our own private contests.  Hayley was known to do it quietly and lock the car windows if she was driving.  Henry when very little would toot and run around saying “do you smell it do you smell it, do you?”.  I would say to him “toot toot went the Henry train”.  So I can see how I may have encouraged their behavior.  I am pretty sure that I occasionally still use that phrase with him.  Kind of like a childhood nickname.  I can see him when he is 32 visiting us and feeling comfortable enough around HIS wife to let it go and I will exclaim “toot toot went the Henry train”.  Let’s just say Scott did not appreciate our “contests”.  He would come home from work, inhale and say “what has been going on here?”.  Without hesitation one of us would say the dog had gas.  We are a classy family that way.  But back to Sedona, It was so complicated to try to figure out how to let what needed to happen without offending Scott.  The bathroom was literally right next to the wall where Scott’s bed was.  If I went out into the living room, Henry from the sofa bed would rat me out.  Scott says that I truly believe that mine don’t smell, but these didn’t,  I swear!  They were just so super loud.  I finally let go and as they say let it rip during the night.  I found myself on outings speed walking through the lobby with my ass cheeks clenched until I could safely get away from other humans.  I don’t even want to think about what it would have sounded like in that quiet marble covered lobby.  So I survived the trip without Scott threatening divorce and we were at the airport at 5:30 am hoping to be on the first flight as we were going standby.  We sat away from the crowd.  The boys were in seats and I sat down on the floor to try to rearrange my luggage and bags to look like one carry on and one personal item.  About 5 feet behind me was a younger couple sitting on the floor with their backs against a wall talking.  I was on my rump, sitting criss cross applesauce when it happened.  Yes, yes it did.  It sounded like a gun shot.  I am still shocked no one hit the ground.  The couple behind me became silent.  I didn’t look up.  I was so mortified I felt light headed.  It was either from the embarrassment or the fact that the fart had been so powerful it knocked the breath out of me.  I could not look at Scott and Henry at all.  I knew if I did and they looked either horrified or were laughing or both, I would not be able to control the tears.  Now the way things were going and from experience that week, I knew that getting up off the ground would be a dangerous time period, kind of like landing and taking off for a plane.  I could not stand up.  I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that when I stood up I would fart again or worse rapid fire.  I was still waiting for TSA agents to round the corner to find out who had the gun from 60 seconds ago.  Please leave I thought towards that couple.  My cheeks were burning and I felt a hot flash coming on from the embarrassment.  I still had not looked at Scott and Henry.  It is at this moment our names were called for stand by.  I didn’t move.  Scott finally got up and headed to the counter, perplexed I was not handling the details like normal.  He waved me over as they needed my identification.  I asked Henry to come give me a hand up.  I figured if I was going down in the mortification hall of fame, so was he.  My plan was to chastise him.  Pass the farting blame.  Maybe then the couple by some miracle would think that it was not me.  I spent the next 3 hours in a middle seat with my butt cheeks clenched and thankful both my seat mates had ear buds on.

The point of sharing my embarrassment was to make you giggle, make Shay happy and to introduce the topic of “Grief Appropriate”.  In 11 days I will be 47.  One thing that I have noticed at doctor’s appointments is they are starting to use the term “age appropriate”.  I want to throw something when I hear it.   “Oh, you can’t regulate your body temperature?  That sounds age appropriate”  “You are getting hair in places you never had it before.  That is age appropriate”  “you pee a little when you cough?  That is age appropriate.”  “Trouble sleeping?”  Yes, you know, age appropriate.  But what I have learned in the last 6 months is that there is something I am calling “Grief Appropriate”. Grief is so physical.  Honestly some days it is more physical than emotional.  It is not uncommon for me to have one of these symptoms or all of them on any given day.

• Insomnia
• Groggy during the day
• Headaches
• new gray hair
• new white hair
• skin issues
• sinus issues, pain
• dry red eyes
• chest pain
• trouble breathing
• brittle nails
• mood swings
• exhaustion
• restlessness – can’t sit still
• Coughing, dry throat from crying
• not hungry
• too hungry
• memory loss
• difficulty concentrating
• Stomach issues (I won’t list them, but you got the idea already)

I can have one or more of these “Grief appropriate” symptoms a day.  I can even cycle through all of them in a day.  At first I blamed a lot of them on my 32 pound weight gain and that may be true.  But as I have talked to other grieving moms and read articles online, I found that these are truly all physical symptoms of grief.  I believe this is why I isolate myself like many grieving men and women do.   Not only are we so fucking sad, but we truly don’t feel good.  For example, I have seriously had to think twice about going places out of fear of farting.  Maybe it is or isn’t the Ambilify; maybe it is the air I suck in when sobbing trying to find an escape.  But it is all Grief appropriate.

If you know another person coping with grief or maybe it is you, cut them some slack.  Unless they are literally not getting out of bed at all, these physical symptoms are what slows us down.  Please don’t forget that grieving is not just the worst thing imaginable, the loss of a child, it can be grieving a lost career, grieving the loss of normal when you are caring for a child with special needs or an aging parent needing all of your time to care for them after hip surgery.  You are grieving the loss of what you thought your day, week, year or life would look like.  This has physical consequences, so be kind to yourself.

I recently charged my dusty fitbit.  My initial thought was to have a goal of 10,000 steps.  I used to be able to do that.  This was the most ridiculous goal and totally setting myself up for failure.  The most steps I have had this week for a day has been 1,635 and that was today, because I went to Costco.  I was shocked.  But the more I think about it, it doesn’t take that many steps to go from bed to the couch and back again.  So I plan to be kind to myself and work up to it slowly and pray that I can make it around Disneyland on my birthday without having Sara push me in a wheelchair.  Although, that might be Grief Appropriate.

I have been amazed at how caring and generous friends and strangers have been since we lost Hayley.  I know a lot of people but I don’t let a large number in to my squad.  Mainly because it is hard to find that many people that swear as much as I do.  Also, my time was spent with Hayley and Henry.  Mostly Hayley, you know girl stuff.  We did just about everything together.  We had adventures, we did boring stuff like the store or got our nails done.  But it didn’t matter as long as we were together.  Please don’t think I have forgotten my other child.  Henry and I have our special time, things we do together.  He is into things that I am not very good at.  I suck at xbox and PC gaming just baffles me.  That is his and Scott’s thing.  Hayley was my best friend.  I was so lucky to have that kind of relationship with her.  It would have been such a different dynamic with two girls.  Henry is a great balance for me.  I have really been amazed to find how much time I spent talking, texting, calling, sitting with, driving with, or everything with her.  Now that it is gone I sit and realize how big of a hole she has left.

My grief has grown.  Just like Finn, the golden retriever puppy.  I am the crazy dog lady.  We are back to 4 dogs but the pack works for me.  My friends and Scott were oh so clever.  They knew if there was a new puppy to care for that I would have no choice but to get out and stay out of bed between 7 and 2 when there would be no witnesses.  They were absolutely right.  I have so many times groaned when I heard him whine, thinking that at that moment there is nothing more I would like to do but stay in bed for hours.  If I sleep it isn’t real.  My three older dogs would think that was the best day ever.  Sleeping on our bed is their favorite.  What I didn’t expect was that for the last 9 weeks Scott sleeps in Hayley’s room, while I sleep in ours with the puppy. We use a crate for him to keep him out of trouble and safe.  He is ready to sleep by 7 p.m.  Of course I am not.  We usually head to bed between 8 and 9 where he is coaxed or herded into his crate by Scott.  Scott then lays on the floor next to the crate reading on his iPad while Finn paces and cries.  I get ready for bed.  By the time I am in bed Finn is asleep.  A couple of times so was Scott.  I am a night owl, going to bed at 8 is not normal.  So I proceed to surf the net, write, crochet, or draw.  I usually fall asleep between 11 and midnight.  If I have to go to the bathroom or grab a charger, I literally will roll and army crawl away from the bed hoping he won’t notice.  He has a savvy sense of my location at all times.  I can be so quiet and he will always wake up and howl, bark or cry until I am back in bed next to the crate.  He knows his job is to watch over me and he takes it way too seriously.  Finn has to pee at any time between 1:30 and 3:00, occasionally twice.  He then will need to go again between 4:45 and 6:30.  At this point I could be totally hosed.  I can tell if he will go back to sleep until maybe 7:30 or 8:00, but most of the time he is up and ready to chew on you or anything he can.  His size makes me forget he is a baby, just a puppy.  I really expect that he can be more self sufficient.  So guess who has NEVER been a morning person, yet by 7:00 each morning I am downstairs nodding off on the couch while I hold one end of a dog toy or toss a ball for an hour.  Thank you Tena and Stacia.  So clever.

Just because I am out of bed does not mean I am active or getting anything accomplished.  My energy level is nearly as low as it can be and still be conscious.  Today I accomplished one load of laundry, got my nails done and painted some rocks.  I was exhausted by 4:00.  The grief I feel is frightening.  The best days are when I can trick my brain to slightly believe she is up at school.  Everyone’s grief is as individual as a fingerprint.  I have learned that I have judged other’s in the past.  I have thought unkind opinions of when someone should be “over” their grief or at least doing better.  I was so very wrong.  My grief reminds me of a long hallway in a hotel.  Sort of like the one in the shining but with no creepy twins at the end of the hall.  I am trying to get to the elevator at the end of the hall to take me to a peaceful place.  But I never reach it.  During my attempts I may open a door.  That door may be my memory of the night I watched her die.  The shock and disbelief.  They said she would be fine.  My screaming her name as they did chest compressions and her soul left her body.  Falling to the ground screaming and weeping intermittently.  Just when they thought I was calming down, the screaming would start again.  The meeting with the surgeon.  This room sucks.  I would give it a negative 100 on trip advisor.  I try so hard not to go into that room but I am not always successful in keeping that door closed.  I have noticed that the narrative has changed slightly.  Shockingly there is now a twinge of pride and a small smile.  What was done that night saved her body so that many others can live and their mothers are not experiencing this hell.  The smile is that I know for a fact Hayley would find it funny that I peed my pants.  I remember thinking briefly that thought when it happened because my brain was not accepting what it was seeing.  It created a scenario where she would survive.

Some rooms contain memories.  Some are years of similar memories grouped together.  Our 18 years of visiting Cannon Beach.  That room has her naked at 2 splashing in the water in front of our rental house.  Skim boarding at around 11.  Bringing friends as she got older.  Dance competitions at Seaside piggy backed on to CB.  The next room might be all the time she and I spent on my parent’s boat.  There are hundreds of rooms that include 15 years of dance recitals, competitions, costumes, hair and make up.  Another may be the day she was born, holding her in my arms for the first time.  The struggle to become pregnant and the reward on April 29, 1998.  The trouble of preeclampsia at the end of the pregnancy, the hospitalization after as my kidneys shut down.  Even while very ill and hospitalized I refused to be separated from Hayley.  She stayed with me in my room at First Hill Swedish, but there had to be another adult at all times.  Sara and Scott took turns.  Nothing could convince me to let her go home without me.  Some rooms are just me sitting in a chair thinking, fuck, I have been through a lot of shit.  How could the worst nightmare happen on top of all the other shit.  I know everyone deals with shit, but my shit hill is so much higher than almost everyone I know.  I have faced financial ruin, faced death, countless surgeries, a separation, loss of my stepmom, loss of my dad, loss of my beloved grandmother, loss of friends and loss of a career.  I cannot remember one 5 year period where we did not face a major life event.  The big stuff, not little stuff.  Yet through it all we had the two H’s, Hayley Storm and Henry Scott.  They even have the same initials.

One of the rooms in Hotel Grief is the room of kindness.  The things that have been done to show care and ease our suffering in basic ways.  This is my way of publicly thanking everyone for everything and anything they did to ease our pain and make things easier for us.  Thanks to my most organized friend, there was food for weeks and weeks.  In that room I see an alternative where if we had not had so much generosity with food, that would have been a stressor that I could not handle.  My friend left a cooler on our porch for the deliveries.  This was not her first rodeo.  How nice not to have to answer the door.  How nice that everyone understood.  Henry called it the magic blue box.  I have a stack of thank you cards, and every time I sit down to try to write and send them, I can’t figure out what to say.  “Thank you for the brownies, they are my favorite and demolishing all of them kept me from crying for a good 15 minutes”.  My friends say people don’t expect a card.

There was the food and then there was the go fund me page.  I have donated to countless causes in my life.  I raised over 2 million dollars in 5 years for Heart Disease Research.  Never did it occur to me we would be on the receiving end.  Without a job meant no family leave pay.  Had we not had that fund I don’t know what I would have done.  I was planning and hoping to be back to work by October.  When I lost Hayley, I cannot even imagine.  That fund gave me peace of mind and the gift of time.

Little gifts have been left on my porch since the summer.  Books, candy, flowers, wonderful things.  It could have been just a single piece of chocolate and it held the power to make me feel loved and gave me that little piece of strength.

The gift of time.  One of Hayley’s favorite people was at my side to make the candle light vigil for Hayley’s recipients a success.  Then there were the 200 plus people that were there burning their fingers on hot wax.  She made the beautiful Red Barn feel like Hayley.  There was the gift of the property for the service.  The gift of Root Beer, Hayley’s favorite.  The gift of speaking at the service and therefore forever being etched in Hayley’s history.  The gift of plants, flowers and programs.  The giant photo of Hayley.  The handmade cookies with her name and favorite sayings.  The talented musicians both friends of Hayley.  The AV System so everyone could hear.  The talented women that made it all look lovely.  The 500 plus people that stood 10 deep for 2 hours.  The people outside that stood in the heat and listened the best they could from the windows and doors.  The slide show lovingly put together by a friend the night before.  The glassy babies at the service and in my home.  The Hayley glassy baby.  Other gifts of time included decorating a Christmas tree in a coastal theme.  Cleaning Henry’s man cave!  Jen deserves a medal.

This room is huge and everywhere I look are the acts of kindness.  Some were as complicated as my brother handling the details at the end to as simple as a letter or a card.  Random Texts or messages on Facebook or in the comments section of this blog.  I devour those messages as if I am starving.  The majority of these acts of kindness have been performed by strangers or acquaintances that I faintly know, maybe from Facebook.  Community members.  I have never been one to graciously accept help.  I finally stopped stressing about all of it when someone said, “letting people help is more about them than you”.  They would do anything to make this go away, to take my pain.  But they can’t, so they bake.  They do something and by doing these acts of kindness they feel less helpless.

A thank you will never suffice; ever.  I love the room of kindness.  It makes me feel less alone.  Some of these strangers I now call friends.  I am so thankful.  So are Scott and Henry.  I thought about the thank you cards, I could never get through them.  I thought about standing on the corner near Safeway with a sandwich board that says “Thank you to the best community;  I am sorry about that time I called your kids entitled brats”

On New Year’s day, over 20 people joined us in the freezing cold to light flying sky lanterns in Hayley’s honor.  To welcome the new year.  I thought for sure the dock might tip and we were all going to do an unintentional polar plunge.  It was so beautiful, the sunset, the mountain, the lake and the lights.  But when I turned and looked at the people that came I was overcome with emotion.  There were people I did not know prior to this tragedy.  There were people I have known 16 years.  Girls that grew up with Hayley all to become amazing young women.  It was moms and dads.  I will continue to do everything I can to keep Hayley’s light alive.  I am not going to have mine and her lives mean nothing but tears and pain.  Every mother thinks their kids are the best, and they hope that they are good people.  Hayley’s death showed me that she was a good person.  The best.  That room in Hotel Grief is the one with light shining through at the bottom of the door.  In there is Hayley’s light.  This room is as painful as all of the others.  Because now I know what I am missing.  I did not notice how bright the light was until it was gone.  Don’t take for granted the light in your lives.  Take the time to think about some of the Hayley stories and imagine what would your story sound like.  The electricity that powered Hayley’s light was not perfect but it touched so many people in such a short time.  Take the time to be thankful.  Thanks is all I have the strength to give to people right now.  I am trying to learn to “be” all of the things Hayley would expect from me, but I have not had much success yet;  But my Thankful Light is super nova bright.

 

Thank you

 

— Dawn, Scott and Henry

 

Today is the last day of 2017.  The last year that Hayley was alive.  The last day of the most horrifying year of my entire life.  The last day of the Christmas season, Hayley’s favorite.  So many lasts.  So many firsts.  First Christmas without her.  First new year’s eve without her.  First family vacation without her.  It just depends on how you look at it, I guess.  One of the things people have talked about is that this blog helps them understand my grief, their grief or the grief of other loved ones.  It has to be one of the most difficult experiences to explain to someone that has been lucky enough not to feel it at this level.  This weekend there was a clear example that might help.  It is a very simple and raw example.  I will get to it shortly.  These “episodes” are getting more frequent.    Honestly I usually feel melancholy every year during Christmas.  It has been my own fault.  I have such high expectations and steep responsibilities for the Holiday.  I want it to be perfect for my family.  Like so many of my friends I shop for the perfect gifts, I decorate, I bake, and I set expectations every single year that this will be the best Christmas ever.  What I never saw until this year was that those expectations were unattainable.  Mainly because by the time we reached Christmas morning I was so exhausted that I was too tired to enjoy it.  This left me feeling like it didn’t go well.  This year I sat back and watched everyone else stress out.  Most of my shopping was done online.  Henry has always had a simple list, short but expensive!  I didn’t do any late night shopping.  I didn’t plan what to bake, how to package it, present it and who would get it.  I watched all my Mom friends doing this.  Man it did not look like fun.  The weeks leading up to Christmas are absolutely insane for Moms.  Do you think the Dads or Kids even notice?  Probably not.  No one ever says thank you for giving up every free minute of the last two weeks hand addressing 150 Christmas Cards.  Honestly we would only get about 30 cards each year.  That is a shitty return on investment.  Plus I think half only send one when they get one from me.  This year we didn’t send any and we only received about 10.  Maybe people didn’t think a “Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays” was appropriate knowing we are not Merry or Happy.  This made me think of a new tip.  8 of those cards have not been opened.  Why?  Because I do not want to see the beautiful photos of your children, and your family.  Designing and sending cards of my kids has always been my favorite holiday task.  I have been sending them for 20 years, this is the first year I did not.  I will open those cards and enjoy the sentiment maybe next week.  I love all my friends and their children, that is not what it is about.  Seeing you have what I don’t stings and if I am honest brings a feeling of jealousy.  So my tip;  if someone has lost member of their nuclear family.  Spouse, daughter, son.  Do not send your family card with the perfect photo.  The one in a pose your family never stands in.  I know you don’t mean harm but it might be hard, it might be a trigger.  Send a handwritten card.  “We are thinking of your family, we wish you the happiest holiday possible.”   Nothing has been normal since July 11th.  So send the card, but don’t send a photo of your normal Christmas.  AND stop running around and making yourself exhausted.  You know what our kids want for Christmas besides the iPhone X; they want you to be happy.  They want their family to be happy.  You really can’t be 100% happy when you are exhausted and thinking about how much you have left to do.  Simplify.  Be Present.

Let me try to get back on track.  This is an example of the episodes I have been having.  I have been painting rocks.  It is fun, it is relaxing and when doing it with a friend it is a fun way to catch up and relax together.  Plus I have to get exercise to go hide them so people can find them.  I needed a better tablecloth to add to my rock painting kit.  I remembered that I had two in my Christmas box that every year I never use.  They are more outdoor linens.  One would be perfect.  Should I pick the red or green.  Green, more year round, better background for painting.  Scott was in the family room.  I went into the garage grabbed the item.  I came in and was folding it neatly when I flashed back to when I purchased the tablecloth and what it was used for.  It took my breath away.  I set the folded green cloth down on the table and with both hands on top of it to hold myself up, I began to weep.  Deep sobs.  Seriously I should send in a photo of myself at these moments to Webster Dictionary for them to put next to “ugly crying”.  Poor Scott, came over and was perplexed we had just been chatting and all of a sudden I was bent over as if I had taken an invisible fist to the gut.  I explained to him that the tablecloth brought back a happy memory and the stark comparison to that day and today was just so overwhelming that I had to stop everything and just remember to breathe.  Of course he doesn’t remember the tablecloth but with his hand on my back I told him it was from a day spent playing in the snow years ago, maybe when the kids were 4 and 8.  It was at this property in the mountains were you reserve tents and space.  You take a horse drawn sleigh to the destination.  The location had a terrific sledding hill.  You shared a tent with a fire with other families.  There must have been over a dozen Sammamish Families there that day.  Probably more, there was easy 75 people sharing food, drinks, and sledding together.  The kids couldn’t escape or sled into the street, it was a perfect bowl of fun in the mountains.  I can’t remember everyone that was there but I bet I know dozens of them better than I did before now.  I had bought those two table clothes to cover the picnic table.  Susie made her Chili and hauled that big pot all the way there.  I was in charge of sweets and to simplify, I had filled a basket with ding dongs, ho hos, and twinkles!  Super easy to eat with gloves.  I was a hit.  It was truly a fun day.  Hayley spent the day playing with her brother.  Kayla, Hayley, Henry, Doug, Justin, all made forts and had an epic snowball fight.  Henry got pegged in the face and I remember cuddling him in the warm tent.  Hayley came back in and said “come on momma’s boy we need you our team”.  She so didn’t need the 4 year old on her team, but that was a moment of sister kindness I will never forget.  We all went home exhausted, dirty, cold, some of us buzzed and looking forward to getting a spot on the reservation for the next year.  Except Doug, I think he hurt his back, I can’t remember.  I packed those tablecloths with my decorations and used them here and there but they will always be a reminder of Sammamish heading East for the day.  I reminded Scott of all these memories.  He said quietly ” I remember”.  I told him this is what happens, the memory hits and I am a mess.  I remember details.  My long term memory is super accurate.  I am the keeper of my family’s memories.  Scott remembers that day but not all the details.  He wouldn’t remember the twinkles or Henry’s “injury”.  It is excruciating painful because you let her into your head and your heart when you recall a loving memory.  You quickly realize that you will never have that kind of experience with her again.

That moment or episode is like you just lost her again. All of that because of a tablecloth.   It is so unfair.  I have lost my child.  Then grief steals your memories.  It is a thief that takes your happy memories and covers them with a layer of fog, and sprinkles regret and sadness over them.   Just like the Grinch when he took everything from Whoville.  What I can’t figure out is how to get past the fog and still find a way to want to sing in the middle of the town square.  

I decided to try to write earlier in the day.  Most of my posts are late at night when I can’t sleep and I need to put the words in writing to get them out of my head.  Does that make sense?  This past week I just can’t seem to have a decent day.  Each day is filled with tears, screaming and ugly crying.  I am set off easily, raw and sensitive.  The puppy is still not a great sleeper and last night urinated in his kennel and I swear rolled around in it like cologne to spite me.  I think he was very soundly sleeping as he had his shots yesterday.  I picked a very cranky 15 year old up from a sleepover and took him with me to Marymoor with the false assumption he would get out of the car and help me give Finn a bath at the dog wash.  When he didn’t I decided to first walk over to the Dog Park which is quite extensive I found.  I figured more mud was just fine.  He loved it, me not so much.  I was cold and paranoid that all the other dogs would hurt my puppy or have a disease.  A great dane went by that his ears came up to my shoulder.  Finn at 40 pounds fit neatly under him and proceeded to sniff out his dick.  I scolded “Finn, uh uh, leave him alone”.  His owner said “that’s okay, it IS awfully big”.  I had to chew my tongue not to respond with “that’s what she said”.  Evidently all dog people ARE weird.  I was not wearing a coat or shoes for this mucking place.  When I went to wash the dog, Henry claimed an upset stomach and stayed in the car.  While I juggled his debit card, paying, the dog’s leash, and his need to love everyone I dropped my phone.  I had to use Henry’s debit card because I am still missing my wallet and it is looking more likely Finn took it and hid it with his other treasures under the deck.  It is Hayley’s Kate Spade thin one that would be so much fun to hide.  We don’t have access to under the deck ourselves.  The phone landed screen down in it’s Folio Case shattering the screen protector and the small part of the phone screen not covered by the protector.  I had just complained to my Verizon guy, yes I have a guy, that the protector didn’t go all the way to the screen’s edges and that the protector makers needed to get their shit together.  My first thought was this would not have happened if that boy would have gotten his teen ass out of the car and helped me.  So now I am mad at Henry.

Washing Finn is something you cannot do and be mad.  He is so funny and wants to like it but thinks maybe he shouldn’t.  When done, he was clean, mostly dry and gorgeous.  I get him down and he runs to greet the proprietor and proceeds to roll around in a puddle on the floor.  It is clean water but now he is soaking wet.  I decide to keep him clean and carry him to the car.  He is over 40 pounds and I am weak.  I am huffing and puffing with one dog leg over a shoulder, my arm between his back legs and his massive head under my chin walking briskly in the muddy parking lot towards my car, yelling, “Henry open the car door”.  Henry does not even get out to open it, opens it from the back seat.  So now I have a wet dog and the wet dog smell in the car and it is making Henry queasy, eye roll.  Dude, I have not showered since I think Monday, smelling like a wet dog is an improvement for me.  I get home with a long list of chores that of course I won’t do.  After blow drying Finn I will lay on the couch for the rest of the day occasionally weeping.  After his blow out he goes outside and under the deck getting muddy all over again.  We are not speaking right now.

I was scrolling through Facebook even though I know I shouldn’t.  I swear it seems the majority of everyone I know has a daughter and then a son.  WTF, was it in the water?  They all have posted great Christmas photos.  Matching PJ’S, fun vacations, and dinners.  For the first time I truly feel jealous so I promise Scott I will cut back my social media use.  Insert eye-roll.  I notice one of my favorite people has posted and he does not do that often.  It is David, my best friend from Junior High.  He lives in London with his awesome partner and their two boys.  It was the second post this week.  The other night he took his oldest son sledding at midnight.  I was so proud of him.  These are the things Hayley and I would do because why not?  If you think of it, do it.  Don’t wait.  Do something out of the ordinary or daring with your kids.  Create memories.  Okay, lecture done.  David had posted a nice remark about Meghan Markle, Harry’s fiance.   He included a speech she had given at a United Nations Women’s meeting in 2015.  I have listen to this speech before.  I related to it, and I found the story charming and inspiring.  I watched it again.  By the time it was done…down the rabbit hole I went, ugly crying along the way.  Looks like the evening xanax shall be taken early today.  Why am I upset about a story about an 11 year old Meghan Markle.  I have never even watched the show Suits.  Then it hit me.  Just like before I related to the story.  I realized that I had worked my ass off to raise a strong, confident, kind, loving young woman and that all of it was a waste.  It was gone in a moment.  All of that work to make sure she understood despite what she might read, see or hear that women were 100% equal to men.  Just like the gorgeous smile it took several years of braces for Dr. Nelson to give her, what a waste of that beautiful smile.  I can remember dozens of teaching moments and lessons that Scott and I taught her.  I can remember they were not always the easy way to parent, but we did it.  When we went to the sex and puberty class at Overlake Hospital in the 4th grade, the pediatrician said the most important indicator of a girl successfully navigating puberty was an involved Father.  So Scott joined us for “the talk”.  Scott was home when she got her period on black Friday and talked her off the ledge, that she didn’t need to call me two dozen times, it was not rocket science, he could handle this.  He stretched the bands of gender roles in parenting when he was a stay at home father.  We shared ALL parenting duties except breast feeding.  Even in that he was supportive.  He was the only man in my Breast Feeding 101 class.  We figured I would forget half of it and he needed to be able to give suggestions based in fact and not guessing that if I just held the baby differently it would eat.  It seriously did not cross our minds that he didn’t go to that class.  We made the baby together, it was our first and we didn’t know what the fuck we were doing so any education was important.  She had to eat.  He changed 90% of all diapers for both kids.  He got up every time they did.  Changed the diaper and brought them to the milk wagon.  When done he took them back to their crib.  He took three months off to care for baby Hayley so she didn’t start daycare until 6 months.  I truly believe these decisions are what made Hayley and Scott so close.

These are just a few of the things we did as parents to show her she was equal, she could do or be anything she wanted.  We tried to show her by our own example.  Was it always easy?  Hell NO!  We live in a community dominated by very stereotypical gender roles.  We live in an affluent community where the positives outweigh the negatives 10 to 1.  In most of the kids classes I would say there was maybe 30% of the Moms that worked outside the home.  We lived in a bubble, a safe place, but with not the most diverse example or at least obvious ones of gender role reversal.  I can remember more than one Dad “friend” at parties or BBQs crack jokes to Scott about being a kept man or his wife being the boss.  I am already the more outgoing and extroverted of the marriage, these comments made him feel less and impacted our marriage negatively.  Scott and I worked together but when business was busy we did the roles that we were best at.  I sell better, not by much, and he changes diapers way better than me, by a lot.  Neither of us can cook though.

Back to 2017, we had just started to see the results of all of our hard and purposeful parenting.  She had wanted to work in law enforcement since 7th grade.  She planned to apply for a Quantico internship Junior year.  She had done a ride along with the only female officer on the WWU force.  She wanted to be like Officer Bianca.  It didn’t surprise us she was choosing a male dominated field.  In fact she probably didn’t even notice.  She had taken classes that had inspired her.  I would say she was developing into a conservative liberal like myself.  She enjoyed her women’s study classes because they made her think and it pissed her off that women made less money than men.  But at the same time she would crack derogatory comments about the radical feminists in her class.  They pissed her off daily.  We both were so excited for the election.  I was confident that my wish for a female president in my daughter’s lifetime was going to come true.  Plus how could Donald Trump actually win.  I saw Hillary’s flaws but was more of an anti Trump and pro woman in the white house fan.  I just felt that what she could accomplish just by having boobs in the white house was going to be extraordinary for my gender.  I will try to add the video of Hayley on election night if I can.  I really would not have had a problem with a republican but it needed to be more John McCain republican.  I am socially liberally all the way left and fiscally conservative more right middle.  That candidate didn’t exist in my opinion.

I said so many times that I wanted to see a female president in my daughter’s lifetime.  It kills me to think that is not even possible now.  My daughter is gone, it can’t happen.  Last night there was a Colbert rerun with Hilary Clinton pushing her book, “What Happen?”.  I remember the first time I saw the interview, I liked her still.   Last night I wanted to reach into the TV and shake her and yell “What the FUCK happen?”.  You ruined it.  You only had to beat Donald Trump, what the fuck.  My daughter is gone and was totally disgusted with our political system when she died.  Jaded at 19.  All because of what?  Is it in your book?  Cause I really want to know.  You short changed my daughter.  All of the parenting work, the women can do anything they want banter of her childhood; all of that was put in a time capsule and either tossed back to 1950 or shoved up Trump’s ass.  Your failure made me look like a liar!

My mom is a feminist, I am a feminist, and Hayley was a feminist.  But we all three have different definitions of that word.  When Hayley was taking a sociology class we looked it up.  Here is the link I thought was the most interesting definition of feminism.  There are multiple answers but it is Vivek’s that I found the easiest to understand.  https://www.quora.com/What-are-the-different-types-of-feminism

So here I am, the only female in my house, well me and Zoey.  As I watched Meghan Markle talk about her 11 year old self.  One that sounded just like my Hayley, I realized it was still Christmas break.  Hayley should be sitting on the couch next to me watching one of her shitty reality shoes while I surfed the internet and worked on my job hunt as planned.  All I could feel was this deep anger starting to bubble to the surface.  MY DAUGHTER SHOULD NOT BE GONE!  She should be giving a speech at the United Nations in the next ten years.  When I was asked as a child what I wanted to be when I grew up I said every single time “a President”.  I would be asked to clarify “President of the United States?”.  Possibly I would say or President and CEO of a very large company.  Most of the time I was not taken seriously and god help anyone that laughed in my mother’s hearing range.  Having gone to a different elementary school each year I would have to reestablish myself as smart for my new teachers, they did not have a previous teacher to ask.  My previous year’s teacher was not sending an email about me to my new teacher.  (for you younger folks, because we didn’t have email)  So not only did I have to work harder than everyone else because I was a girl, but harder because I was the new kid.  I remember in the second grade my teacher wanted to speak to my mother.  The teacher explained that on a group project I was too bossy and wouldn’t let the other kids help.  My mom looked at me and asked me to explain.  I said the other kids did not know how to do the assignment and I didn’t want a bad grade because they were stupid.  (never had a good filter)  My Mom said “I don’t see a problem here” and we left.  In the third grade I was at a school where some of the kids were pulled out one or two days a week for the “gifted” program.  I wanted it bad.  Those kids got to do more math and science!  I was geeking out.  My competition was Lee.  Not only was he smart he was a dick.  A mean kid.  He laughed when I didn’t know what “humping” meant.  I still blame Lee for one of the things that left a scar on my childhood.  When I got home I asked my Mom what humping was.  She proceeded to send my dad to the store for milk and sit down with a book that had graphic pictures.  Some of you seventies and eighties kids might remember it, “When a child is born”.  The real trauma came when she thought the book was lacking in detail and drew pictures for me.  She is not artistic and sometimes I still have nightmares.  Also, I never forgave my Dad for clearly going to milk a cow for that milk.

Back to Lee the Dick.  Lee and I were chosen as boy and girl of the year for the first half of the school year.  It was based on grades and test scores.  The highest boy and the highest girl.  My math and reading scores (see 2nd grade) put me ahead of Lee.  But guess who got chosen as the representative for the gifted program?  Yep Lee the Dick.  I don’t remember the details but I am pretty sure my Mom got involved in this one too.  But in the end it didn’t matter because I switched schools again in the 4th grade and found amazing teachers at Bonney Lake Elementary.  I loved the 4th grade.  We would have long division and multiplication contests weekly.  It was kind of like Math Jeopardy.  Two sides of the board.  Two students.  A problem was given and whomever solved it first stayed up there to challenge the next.  I was rarely beaten.  So my teacher decided to tap into my competitive nature.  It was such a fun game.  She would send me to the 5th grade class, Mr. Waz (Wazleski) and I would challenge the 5th graders.  I was in heaven and I was heart broken to leave those two teachers in the middle of the 5th grade because of my parent’s divorce.

I was so happy when I had a daughter to raise.  I was thrilled when I got a boy and had one of each!  I felt like we were rewarded for not peeking at the ultrasounds both times.  Hayley didn’t have my take no prisoners personality, probably because she didn’t have to always prove herself.  She had the competitiveness and Dance was an amazing outlet for that.  She had strong beliefs and not the best filter.  She didn’t really care about her grades until she realized it might keep her out of WWU.  She was obsessed with doing well in College, she knew this was where the real learning could happen.  Both book and life.  She was so excited to have her new body and to kick off the sophomore year.  She should be sitting with me right now bitching about how half her professors have not entered final grades yet while at the same time watching Housewives of New Jersey.  Instead she is sitting in an urn on the mantle while Donald Trump golfs for the 86th time in one year of his presidency.  All of that parenting, all of that learning, her potential to do great things and change the world.  Gone.  This royally pisses me off and makes me profoundly sad. She was my partner in crime, my best friend, the female love of my life, the missing piece of my heart.

All I wanted for Christmas was to wake up from this nightmare.  Santa did not make that happen.  Santa, you suck.  I have been hearing for a while from different people that have experience with grief that the Holidays are the toughest.  I didn’t believe them.  How could one day or a week be any worse than the previous one.  They are all painful.  These advice givers were 100% right, it can get worse and yes the Holiday was incredibly painful.

If I had my way we would have planned our Arizona trip to include Christmas.  Our friends that lost Ben, they are in Costa Rica and are skipping Christmas.  They are brilliant.  But for me it was about my boys.  I can say my boys now.  There are no girls being left out in that phrase.  They insisted that being home on Christmas was really important to them.  I get it.  They are homebodies and maybe home gives them comfort for those days.  But guess who does the planning and the organizing for all of the holiday?  Yep that would be me.  It used to be Hayley and me and it was joyful.  Christmas was my favorite.  There is nothing that I like better than the hunt for the perfect gift.  The one they didn’t put on their list.  The gift that shows them I pay attention and remember everything.  Some of Scott’s favorite gifts of all time he says he didn’t even know he needed.

We had well established traditions.  Hayley had become the driver of that bus in the last 6 years.  When Scott and I were officially separated and moving toward divorce I believe she thought if we kept our traditions alive nothing would change.  For me it goes back to my own childhood.  I had very young parents.  I went to a different school every year until High School.  I went to 6 elementary schools, 2 years at a Junior High and 4 years at the same High School.  That is 8 schools in 13 years.  Add June Bug Pre-School and you have 9.  My parents divorce from hell began in the 4th grade and honestly didn’t end until he died at age 52 despite both being married to other people.    The upheaval of that event and a change of living situations in High School has always driven my parenting behavior.  It was super important to me that my kids stay in the same schools.  To attend with the same friends from Kindergarten to Graduation.  I envied those people.  The irony is that it was those experiences that gave me some pretty serious coping skills.  I always made friends quickly.  I collected one special friend from each stage and have kept them with me in some way my entire life.  Sheila from Kindergarten, David from Junior High, Sara and so many from High School that have supported me this past few months.  I chose Scott when I was 19 and he offered me a steady and stable personality.  Although after 27 years together I know that calm waters run deep.  I don’t remember any specific traditions from my childhood Christmases.  My Dad put coconuts under our tree for my brother and I on some years.  I still am not clear on that story.  He did always have a card for us in the tree.  A Hallmark card telling me he loved me.  I always felt it should have said “I love you and I hope you love me, despite my crazy behavior”.  Scott’s family was not much different.  He had no memorable traditions either.  His mom did decorate a beautiful tree with only clear glass ornaments.  The only other significant thing he could count on, was lots of drinking on their part.

Because of this I was religious about our traditions over the years and Hayley really loved and cherished all of it.  Here are some of our traditions and what I was able to muster for this year:

• I always do the shopping for gifts, decorations, food.  For many years I bought my own gifts that Scott would then take and tell the kids he bought them and have them help with the wrapping.  Around Junior High, Hayley caught on and he was in deep shit!  It makes me smile to think of her chewing him out.  I had to explain I was just as guilty because I enabled him.  It is a strong personality trait of mine to want to make everything easier for others.  From then on, she and Scott did my shopping with a brief grunt of approval from Henry.
• We cut a fresh Christmas tree from one of the same two places.  When the kids cared about sitting on Santa’s lap it was Candy Cane Lane past North Bend where they could tell the real Santa what they wanted and ride on a trailer pulled by a tractor.  Hayley and Scott Always carried the tree.  I can picture her 8 year old self trying her best to not drag her end.
• Every year we get a new ornament.  We also purchase ornaments on most vacations or special occasions when they are available.  Each ornament in my valuable collection tells a story.  Hayley knew each and every one of those stories.
• Each year for 15 years I purchase a Costco wreath and it goes on the same nail above the garage.
• Every year I hide presents so well and start my shopping so early that there is always a present forgotten.  It usually turns up in person or in my memory within a month.  Henry still brings up the year he said in the backseat many days into the New Year.  I got everything I wanted but I wish I had gotten a gaming chair.  Shit.  Um, Henry, guess what, there is one in the garage for you covered with a blanket.  Uh, Merry Christmas?
• On the day of Christmas Eve we bundle up and go to Woodland Park Zoo.  It started when Hayley was a toddler.  There is usually only a handful of other people.  Keepers are happy to see you and will answer all your questions.  One year Henry fed the penguins.  Hayley was obsessed with orangutangs.  She would be able to sit as long as we could stand to wait for her and interact with her favorite female.  I wonder if she was looking for Hayley this year.  Only one year did it rain, one year it snowed.
• After the zoo, we would change the kids in the back of the mini van into their matching Christmas PJs.  Eventually they could do this themselves.  I am not sure what year it happened, but I was so tired of cooking a traditional meal for just four of us.  We started going to Burgermaster!  It could not be more festive.  Eat in the car, watching white Christmas on the Van’s DVD player.  The windows of the eatery were hand painted with different themes, I always loved the Peanuts the best.  We had the same waitress, she has worked their 20 years.  Last year Hayley insisted on purchasing a Seahawks hat for her.  If she noticed our absence from her section, she would know why this year.
• After a great meal we would drive around and see lights.  Go home and make peanut butter cookies with the Kisses in the middle.  I would make the breakfast casserole recipe I had gotten years ago from the back of an evaporated milk label that is still in the recipe box.  Cover it and put it in the fridge.  I usually only had stocking stuffers to wrap because I always wrapped presents as I purchased them.  I got smart after several all nighters that had me hating wrapping when I actually enjoy it.  Set out the cookies for “Santa” and go to bed.
• Scott and I would threaten the kids to stay in their rooms.  Santa will drop gifts off the sleigh if I see you peeking, this is still my threat.  We set up large gifts.  We have these wonderful Red Santa Sacks.  Each has our names embroidered on the front.  “for Hayley” “for Henry”, Scott and I shared the “McCutcheon”.  All the gifts went in the bags.  Christmas morning they grabbed their bag and carried or dragged it into the family room.  Henry in the corner chair,  Hayley on the couch.
• Scott always bit a cookie and tossed the milk down the drain.  He doesn’t know that the years we were heading to divorce I always licked the cookies quite thoroughly before putting the plate out.  This may have been the same years I also let Dudley the Dog lick his toothbrush often.
• In the morning the kids would always be ready before me.  One year someone gave us a glass pickle and I learned that you hide the pickle when the kids go to bed. Whomever finds it in the morning gets to open the first presents.  Of course being McCutcheons we broke the pickle the first year.  The following year at the zoo we chose our annual ornament, a green frog, this became the new pickle.
• Hayley was a gift hoarder and a gift counter.  Not sure if it is the oldest child thing or a girl thing because both myself and my cousin were saying today we did the same thing as kids.  You count your brother’s gifts and make sure he didn’t get more than you.  Now more often than not, Hayley’s gifts were way more expensive than Henry’s.  This concept never quite sank in, not even at 18.  So I had to count them.  I would wrap all of Henry’s gifts and then place like items in a larger box and wrap that to lower his perceived gift count.  Hayley also always wanted to open the last gifts.  I would watch her quietly skip her turn so she ended up with a few left when everyone else was done.  I like to think it was because, like me, she got more enjoyment watching others open their gifts.
• We would then end up eating breakfast casserole, play with gifts and take naps.  Except for that one year I got the norovirus and destroyed our bathroom, spent the day in the ER, while Scott cleaned up and fed the kids Chinese food.  On a non puking year we usually just heat up a honey baked ham and graze all day on snacks.
• Each of the kids would have a box or basket with their loot and take it to their respective rooms.  Sometimes we would drive around and look at more lights.

That is a McCutcheon Family Christmas.  My brother and his family go out of the country each year with my sister in law’s family.  My mom lives in Florida.  Honestly those are the only blood relatives we would care to include.  Having a foursome Christmas with these traditions has been one of the joys of my life for the last 19 years.  It feels good to document them, write them down to remind myself in the future where I want to get back to.  Maybe not the zoo, but something special for the three of us.

We skipped the Zoo, we skipped the lights, we skipped our regular tree, and I had very little shopping to do.  Henry always provides a list along with links.  I enjoyed going to the Verizon Store, the Golf Store and Mox Gaming to surprise him with some items that were not on his list.  I planted the seed of “Hey Henry you always have gotten Hayley’s or one of our hand me down phones right?”  “Yes, mom, my phone is rose gold”  “Really? Have you ever had a new phone? huh, that sucks for you, but Dad’s 6 Plus is super nice and not rose gold so that will be cool when his contract is up in May”   Of course his new 8 Plus was under the tree.

I am proud of us for going to Burgermaster.  I am proud that without missing a beat Scott and Henry looked for the “octopus” on the coastal themed tree.  Henry found it, so he opened the first present from his bag.  His stocking was full.  Hers was empty.  We ate the breakfast casserole and ham.  No PB cookies but no puking either.  I slept a lot that day, it was so long, I thought it would never end.  But it did.  Christmas #1 done.  We have all agreed that we will go on vacation next year.  Santa take a year off.

Tuesday of the Arizona vacation was the Grand Canyon.  I was so excited to share it with Scott.  He had never been.  I kind of thought that seeing the Grand Canyon as a kid was a parenting requirement.  When I was a kid my Mom and Stepdad took us.  I refer to that as the trip from hell.  The way we travelled was pretty special.  My stepdad is a pilot.  Some rent RVs and travel to the G.C., nope ours flew in a banana yellow, four seater antique plane called a Balanca (spelling?).  It had Beige Velour seats.  I remember a stop in Reno.  I remember camping in a tent at an airfield.  (it was freezing)  But the worse part was being stuck in the backseat of this small plane with my baby brother.  Remember, no iPhones, video games, no music, no earbuds. We didn’t even have walkmans yet.  Just me and my 3-4 year old brother.  You can’t just pull over when the little one needs a break.  At one of our stops, my mom did the brilliant move of feeding him a tuna fish sandwich.  The temperature in the plane was not an even cabin controlled temperature.  This leg it happened to be quite warm in that back seat and we had some turbulence.  Yes, you got it.  Kevin puked Tuna Fish all over me and the back seat (velour).  I can still smell it to this day.  It was one of those memories that was branded into my brain.  The second memory was how absolutely stunning the Grand Canyon was.  How small I felt.  How lucky I was to see it from a plane.  To see a perspective that not many kids saw.  It was fantastic.  But then we had to fly back.  I do believe I am not a fan of Tuna because of that trip.

My cousin and I drove from Vegas and took our three kids several years ago.  We had reserved two nights at a local hotel.  We really thought you needed several days to see the G.C.  Wrong.  One was good.  The kids were awesome, we walked really far on the South Rim Trail.  Henry was young and still sweet.  He wanted to be like Mom back then.  He had my extra point and shoot camera and took photos that actually rivaled mine with my Cannon.  I honestly can’t tell which I shot and which were his.  We ate lunch at the historic El Tovar Hotel.  Hayley really enjoyed this trip.  Parenting requirement, Grand Canyon, check.  Hayley was constantly asking when we were going to take Dad.  She said he needed to see it.  I felt excited to be on our way there.

We had not seen it all, you never can.  But I took the boys on a different route.  I have not walked more than 2-3 thousand steps a day for months.  It hurts.  I didn’t want to hold us back.  I sucked it up and walked about 5 miles that day.  Scott and Henry seemed just as tired as I was.  I couldn’t tell if it was truly physical or just our minds slowed down our bodies as we thought about who was missing.  The best part was driving the Hermit route.  I didn’t even know it existed past the parking lot.  It was a view that included the Colorado River.  It was truly stunning.  But it was also where I really went down one of those mental rabbit holes.   The Grand Canyon claims many lives every year.  Falls are common.  Most of the Rim trail you can walk right up to the edge and look down.  One clumsy moment, one selfie attempt and it is all over.  At the look outs they have a metal rail, thin and around waist high on me.  At the last few stops I stood alone at the rail.  I gripped it tight and weeped at the injustice of this tragedy.  I stared through the tears at this huge abyss of beauty.  I thought to myself, my grief would fill this canyon.  How do I recover from something so massive.  I truly believe I never will. As I gripped the rail I thought about how would it feel to just let go.  Let go of the rail, let go of the grief and just fly.  I leaned a little forward.  The landscape below and in front of me was breathtaking.  It didn’t look real.  It looked like a painting.  If I let go would it feel right, would I feel free from this heavy rock of grief I carry.  Henry and Scott were further down the trail.  They wouldn’t noticed, they would not witness my choice.  I leaned a little more but kept a firm grip on the rail.  The idea of letting go was so appealing I began to shake.  The tears started as soon as I had gripped the rail.  Could I do it?  What would that do to Henry?  Would it screw him up for the rest of his life.  He already has to live with grief that will eventually sneak up on him and take him down.  I knew I would not let go, but the fact that my mind went down that road scared the shit out of me.  The clouds, the blue sky, Hayley was there because I was completely open at that moment, able to let in all of the emotions I constantly fight to keep locked down.  My heart said to let go.  My mind ran through all of the practical consequences.  I don’t have a job, or life insurance.  I would leave them in a bad situation financially.  Scott would have to get them home.  I kind of laughed, he really sucks at the details.  They would probably get on the wrong plane.  What would happen to my dogs?  I still need to meet the woman with my daughter’s heart.  I thought about how so many women I know would be so pissed.  Like really really pissed.  This journal is about honesty.  This is truly honest.  I don’t think Scott noticed my plight.  The above scenario happened at three different points along that trail.  It only happen when there was a railing to grasp.  That told me I was safe, I would not let go.  If I was going to let go it would be were there was not a railing, a lifeline to hang on to.

I don’t believe in God.  If it is true then he or she is an asshole for ripping out half of my heart.  I do believe that our spirit is a part of nature.  I believe that we are tied to this earth in ways that we can not see with our eyes.  I am the one that loves to see the clouds change.  I notice the color of the leaves.  I was constantly pointing it out to my kids.  I would get on their cases about putting the phones down and look around.  Look at the beautiful place we live.  Notice the person walking their dog, notice the cool clouds, imagine what they look like.  Use as much of your brain as you can.  We only use so little of our brain, how can there not possibly be more after death.  But I believe those feelings I have of her presence come from my own brain and my heart.  I believe the ones that we love the most imprint themselves on our souls.  A biological daughter has literally come out of your body, lived inside your body, was created inside your body, that is a connection that can never be broken.  That is what I am feeling.  I can’t explain some things like the Bee.  I can’t explain the Medium we witnessed.  There is always an explanation that is scientific and concrete and one that is based on emotions.  But I believe that a child leaves a piece of themselves, cells, inside of your body.  I feel this grief has activated those cells.  My womb, that part of my body physically aches every single day.  I can remember exactly how I felt being pregnant with Hayley.  We struggled to conceive.  Maybe that is the reason she was so special.  

We returned to the resort.  We had a routine.  I would shower and we would all head to the bar.  I would sit with my  computer or iPad at the bar getting to know Tami, the bartender.  Henry and Scott would be across the room playing a game of scrabble on the wall.  For two nights I ate the amazing chili.  My GI system is still recovering, ask Scott.  But it was so worth it.  Henry ended each night with the smores skillet and I ended it with the Banana Bread pudding in a mason jar.  Henry would get ready for bed on his pull out sofa.  He didn’t complain because he had the entire living room, kitchenette space to himself.  He stayed up late and slept in every day.  We let him.  We went at our own pace.  The next day, Wednesday, Scott went on a hike.  He loved it.  I walked to breakfast, a Mexican cafe with two menus.  One for Mexican food and one for American.  That morning I met Gayle.  She is  beautiful woman probably in her 80s.  She comes twice a day the staff told me.  She has to sit in the same seat, which was next to me.  I complimented her on wearing my favorite color, Blue.  She explained that her guardians told her she should only wear blue, pink or yellow.  Uh oh.  She went on to explain that she was an oracle in a previous life and that the spirits talk to her.  I asked if she was a medium.  She explained that it is not something she can control any more so she would not refer to herself that way.  She jerked and said the spirits had just cleared her mind. She asked me what had my aura so sad.  She was fascinating.  I didn’t get to talk to Hayley as I hoped, but I met a very interesting person.  She sat in that seat because it had the best view of CNN on the TV and she had to keep an eye on Trump.  She called herself the only liberal in town.  I think I met my future self.  The next morning she wore Pink.  I told her it was our last day and that I was sorry I would miss the Yellow day.  She looked shocked that I remembered and more shocked that I greeted her by name and hugged her goodbye.  I realized that most probably wrote her off as one of the many “spiritual” folks that are drawn to Sedona.  But I really saw her.  I believe that is what I taught Hayley to do.  It was why she had a small group of friends she cherished.  It was probably why she always said “I fucking hate people”, lol.  As we left Sedona, Scott complimented me on the vacation.  He said it was a good choice.  He had spent some quality time with Henry and that is what I hoped for.  I had hoped one of us would.  I was still too wrapped in my grief to be that parent.  Watching Scott do it made me happy.  Henry golfed his first round at Sedona.  It was a special day.  It was a special vacation.

 

The McCutcheon Lampoon Vacation continues.  Sunday morning we were still in Phoenix.  I had forgotten Henry’s swimsuit and my hiking shoes.  So how did I spend a Sunday on Vacation?  I took the rental car that we are calling the McCutcheon Assault Vehicle and left the boys in bed to go to the Nordstrom Rack in Tempe.  It was a terrific one and resisting purchases that I have no place to pack for the trip home was torture.  I went into a huge Barnes and Noble to purchase a couple of books.  Mr. Negative Husband says, “you brought your kindle can’t you use that?”  He clearly does not understand that you have to touch and smell a real book after about 10 Kindle books.  You can then start the pattern over.  After my little spree I picked up In-n-Out for everyone.  When I got back to the hotel around noon, they were still in BED!  The older one had showered, so that was something.  I thought In-n-Out sucked.  I spent the next hour and a half re-packing.  Got them in the car and on our way to Sedona finally by 2:00!  All we heard from the teen in the back seat was whining about having to go.  All he wants to do now is go to Top Golf.

Does this not sound like the most boring vacation day ever?  In a way it was.  But I had time alone and was able to let some of my grief show.  Scott has not wanted me to show it at all, to ruin vacation.  I can’t control when it is triggered.  I have gotten better at shutting it down quickly.  “Get in, Get out” is what my counselor says.  There were many triggers on my little outing.  The boys went swimming the night before.  Unfortunately for them no Christie Brinkley was in the pool.  What I realize more than ever on this trip was that I am missing my partner and my other half more than ever.  That person is not my spouse it was Hayley.

She should be here.

The Hilton resort here in Sedona at Bell Rock is stunning.  Everyone including the teen boy was thrilled with our room.  It is more like a small apartment.  The staff is terrific but also casual.  It was fun that Henry could join us at the bar.  They have tons of sports on TVs, a full wall Scrabble game, foosball, ping pong and many fire pits outside with beautiful stringed lights.  I listened to the bartender talk about a guy that got out of hand the night before and landed one of the servers in jail.  Sedona is not the quiet place I thought.  Henry actually hung out with us for hours.  Food was outstanding.  We ate dessert first, why not, it’s vacation.  I had the most amazing chili in this big kettle pot.  Had pizza delivered for and while the boys were in the pool.  Henry was still complaining from back pain.  We still shook our head that our 15 year old pulled a muscle golfing.  Seriously that is usually Scott.  Evidently this week is one of their slowest here at the resort.  At times we feel like we have the place to ourselves.  That evening Henry didn’t think gaming.  He chose to hang out with his dorky parents.  But everything seem to be in fours.  Four chairs at the tables.  Four scrabble letter holders.  If we rented an off road vehicle to explore, four seats.

She should be here.

Having Henry on his own Queen size bed on the pull out sofa, gave all of us our own beds.  I have determined that having the three of us all in our own beds is crucial to any successful vacation.  Henry always was so upset when he would get stuck on the pull out while Hayley would get a bed.  It sucked being the youngest.  No arguing this time.  Henry didn’t even question where he would sleep.  I would give anything to hear them fight over vacation beds.

She should be here.

Today, Monday, Scott and I walked to a local restaurant to eat breakfast.  Here is where we saw on the news above the cafe bar the horrible news of the train derailment back home.  Horrible.  We were both quiet.  Because of Hayley our empathy levels are at an all time high.  When they said multiple casualties we thought about what those families would go through.  Our empathy was not just from being kind people, it was now from experience.  It was hard to pull myself out of the rabbit hole thinking about those families.  We brought Henry breakfast in bed and headed out to explore some more.  I have hiked the red rocks in Las Vegas.  But the rock formations and scenery here in Sedona is breathtaking.  The day started off at 38 degrees and sunny.  The temperature quickly rose to 58 and we were in weather heaven.  As Washington natives, this weather is ideal.  My kids love the gray rainy weather of home.  Give me a cold and sunny day!  We picked up a hiking book and some snacks for the room.  We returned around noon to find the teen boy still in bed asleep.  He had crawled out to eat and then back to bed.  We poked the teen beast and told him to get ready for our Pink Jeep tour.  When I signed us up he complained.  All he wants to do is golf.  When I decided we should stay an extra day here so he has time to golf, he still complained.  So frustrating.  Scott has admonished Henry and I for fighting.  It is almost like we are picking fights with each other on purpose. His fights were always with Hayley.  So were mine. We were too much alike and butted heads often.  So I think we are not used to having such a quiet vacation with no sibling drama. We stopped by the golf club house to talk to them about Henry’s first trip onto a course.  When he finds something new to love he is seriously ALL in.  It is both annoying as hell and satisfying as a parent when he tries something new.  The Pink Jeep tour was a hit.  Henry had the coveted shot gun seat while Scott and I were wedged in the back with three women from Boston.  I enjoyed being squished up against him with his arm around the back of me, my hand on his knee.  It almost felt like we were a normal couple.  The ride was rough and exciting, the final destination was breathtaking.  I knew that in my current physical condition hiking that far into the protected land and getting that close to those gorgeous rocks is not going to happen.  There was an extra seat in the jeep that held dusty blankets.  That would have been her seat.

She should be here.

We returned to the resort and Henry practically begged Scott for another round of wall scrabble.  I sat at the bar and watched them.  I ate the entire family size kettle of chili.  This was the worst decision of the day.  No heartburn but let’s just say I am making some noises.  Get this.  Scott sleeps like a log.  He barely moves, was snoring his post beer snore and had ear buds in listening probably to a podcast about aliens in the deserts of Arizona.  But if I even let out the tiniest, quietest of poofs, he hears it, wakes up, wakes me up and voices his disgust.  All I do is apologize and hope the “sounds” get worse.  Because seriously in 27 years of sleeping in the same room I can tell you whose ass is the most musical and it is not mine.  Hayley would also be telling me what an idiot I was for eating all that chili.  She would be right.  She would mock me and it would feel so good.

She should be here.

Tuesday will be the Grand Canyon day.  The last time I visited was a drive from Vegas with the kids and my cousin and her daughter.  When I found out that Sandy had not been to the Grand Canyon I was appalled.  It would be like me not visiting Mount Rainier or Pike Place Market.  Of course Henry is complaining about going.  “Mom, I saw it when I was like 10”, we don’t need to go.  I do feel I am fighting him on this vacation, yet I have seen more smiles from him in the last three days than in three months.  I am excited to show Scott the Grand Canyon, he has never been.  I will continue to try to ignore the complaints and suppress my grief.  She is on my mind constantly.  The drive to the Canyon will truly be reminiscent of the Griswolds drive across the desert; just hopefully minus the launching of the wagon and tying a dog to the back bumper.

On Day 3, I am glad we are away from home.  Away from the Christmas tree.  I keep forgetting that it is next Monday and realize I have not done all my shopping.  I kind of don’t care.  Hayley is with me on this vacation.  I realize now that it is not the house or her room or her stuff that is surrounding me, making me so very sad and lonely. Her absence here is just as glaring.  I want to reach over and pet her hair while she sleeps.  I want to play foosball with her and go explore all the tacky gift shops we can find.  I have been finding myself asking, where is Hayley, in my head.  I always have to pause what I am doing and concur images from the hospital to make myself believe she is gone.  This is always followed by a flash of anger, guilt and tears.

She should be here.

 

After the crash in Arizona…
Ellen: I think I broke my nose
Rusty: I stabbed my brain.
Audrey: I just got my period.

It is currently 8:00 am, Sunday, Arizona time and I think I might have gotten about 3 hours of sleep and not even in a row.  The boys didn’t seem to enjoy my snoring.  So although everything has changed one thing has not.  The McCutcheons totally suck at sharing a hotel room for the following reasons.

#1 – Beds.  Fucking Beds.  The same damn beds that were so lovely and comfortable Friday/Saturday now become platforms of hell on Saturday/Sunday.  You see for many weeks we have all slept in beds alone.  Well except for me.  Since adding the puppy to the mix and at the same time Scott going back to work, I have had the master to myself.  I have been sharing it with all four dogs.  Two on the end of the King Size bed and one each in a kennel on the sides of the bed.  It has not been the greatest sleep.  I don’t sleep well prior to this year and suffering so much loss in one year has not helped.  But not having to share a King size bed with another human has been such a treat.  Scott has slept well in Hayley’s room.  It evidently is peaceful for him and he enjoys having a full size bed on a gorgeous new frame.  I think his favorite parts are no dogs and no snoring wives.  Henry has a Queen size bed with his bedding and his sister’s dorm bedding.  His mattress was too soft so we recently ordered a box spring from Amazon which clearly he and I did not understand what 9″ was.  Now you can barely see the headboard and he is way up high.  He loves it.

Here in a very comfortable Hilton is an entirely different story.  Friday we arrived in Phoenix at about midnight local time.  My brother, Kevin, was with us to escort us on buddy passes and spend a little time together.  We rallied and went to Top Golf from 1 am – 2 am.  I drove a huge Tahoe after getting uphold at Alamo.  After a fabulous hour at such a fun place we checked into two rooms which we again could afford thanks to my wonderful friend discount and we all fell into our very own Queen size beds.  Showered and cozy in my own bed I didn’t even have to try to wear my awful cpap machine because my other half of 27 years was on his back, using my neck travel pillow as an eye mask, sound asleep and snoring his heart out.  I made so much noise moving around the room and he didn’t budge the entire night.  The next thing I knew it was 11:30 a.m.!!!!!  What?   I cannot remember sleeping that many hours in a row and all of us at the same time.  Kevin had left around 8 to fly home and Henry was sound asleep when I called him at noon to say he needed to check out of that room and come to ours.

So night 1.1 (really our first day started Friday night and into Saturday) was a little piece of Hilton heaven.  Night 1.2?  Tower of Terror ride.  I dreamt of Hayley and her absence is so obvious.  We let Henry have his own bed because he pulled a muscle in his back after another 3 hours at Top golf.  His point was well you two our married you should share a bed.  I said the beds should be marked by gender.  Scott was asleep again quickly (vacation beer).  Henry and I were watching Star Wars movies while I wrote in this journal.  I cannot tell you how many times in the past 8 hours these two assholes woke me up to inform me that my snoring was really bad.  Add that I was trying to sleep in a about a 12-18 inch space that was sloped towards my side, well back to my norm.  The irony was after Scott would wake me to tell me I had woke him he fell back to sleep, snoring.  Waking me did nothing but make me more tired, cranky and uncomfortable.  When that happens I snore louder.  Beds big fail.  I don’t care who sleeps on the pull out sofa in Sedona tonight but I guarantee it won’t be me and I will have my own bed.

#2 – Food – We really have not had a set meal schedule since we lost Hayley.  Even prior to that we struggled with this.  All of us had such different work and school schedules.  But when you are 46 going on 47, overweight, and not sleeping well, room service at 10:00 pm is probably not the smartest idea.  But Henry was hungry and I might as well add a burger for me.  HUGE mistake.  I am not sure why it is called heart burn, this pain was no where near my actual heart.  I am going to have to hydrate and try to have some self control today.

#3 – Hayley – Her absence is profoundly real in this hotel room.  At home the mind can trick your grief into giving you a break.  She is just at College.  She is at work or out with her friends.  Here she was missing in the 4th chair at top pot.  One less kid to consider when choosing where to eat.  We stopped at a Target (I kind of do this in any new state I visit).  Henry and I spent 30 minutes trying to pick family games to buy to play in Sedona.  Do you know how many games there are that need 3 players exactly?  Do you know how many say 4 players or more?  It was painful, I cried in the lego aisle and Henry didn’t even get mad about it.  If Hayley were here, the bed argument would be easier as no one would get his own bed.  I really really miss her right now.

Saturday at 1 am Kevin introduced us to Top Golf.  It reminded me of Lucky Strike bowling but golf.  It is a huge three story driving range where you can play different games attempting to hit your ball into targets.  It is high tech and so much fun.  Henry really loved it.  Henry had a few lessons one summer back around the 1st grade.  Scott would over the years take the kids to the Mt Si driving range.  Both were naturals.  It has probably been 5 -7 years since they last did that.  Henry was doing so great!  He wasn’t perfect but he kept it in what would be the fairway most of the time.  I was so excited to see him basking in the praise of his Dad and Uncle.  He smiled a lot.  Not once did he complain about being on vacation.  Thank you Top Golf!

My brother shared some pictures on Facebook. Several friends asked if I had the donuts.  I said no but that we were going back that day for more golf and I would certainly enjoy trying donut holes you inject with cream.  One friend reached out.  She happened to contract for the CEO of Top Golf.  Again, what a small world.  We don’t even have one in Washington (yet).  She told him our story and asked what time we were going back.  She told me to ask for Kirk.  I was thinking we would get to have a “bay” (like a lane in bowling) in a prime location.  Well yes that did happen when Kirk greeted us.  But we also met several other managers.  The place was incredibly busy with corporate and large group holiday parties.  As a business major I was drooling at all that was running so smoothly around me.  We were escorted to a prime location up on the top deck.  My friend had told me we would be comped.  First not sure I have ever used the word comped in a sentence and I am thinking woo hoo a free hour of golf.  It was more like “how long would you like to play?”; swipe of his magic card and the three of us started our “family” vacation.  We had the best server, Nya.  Like seriously I wanted to take this girl home with me and adopt her.  We talked and laughed.  I told her about Hayley.  Management obviously knew our story and were interested in chatting with us whenever they could stop by our bay.  Nya informed me that we were VIPs.  Henry thought this was pretty cool and I raised a “thank you so much” to my friend towards the NW skies.  One manager asked me are you upper managers or directors.  I wish, remember still need job.  No, I explained we were just a family of four that was now a family of three that were lucky despite their tragedy to know really amazing people.  These people saw we were coming and decided to make sure we had fun.

Not only did they not charge us for golf, they comped (like this word) our food and Scott’s pitcher of beer.  This was beyond what I was expecting.  Those donuts were amazing by the way.  We hugged our new friend Nya and by total coincidence she is heading to Sedona today to do some hiking and we hope we see her on the trails.  I even beat Henry in one of the games!  

It was truly extraordinary to see a company in action that clearly was and will continue to be a success.  The place was packed.  There were so many employees and it seemed that they all really enjoyed their jobs.  Nya told me about what she liked best about Top Golf.  It was clear that from the top down people, both employees and customers were what Top Golf was all about.  In a world where I have experienced the opposite this year and had my faith shaken because of it, this was so satisfying.  I still cried in the bathroom.  I was glad when another table needed our fourth empty chair.  I thought about how much fun Hayley would be having.  The girl could whack a golf ball.  I watched Henry play for 3 solid hours.  (equals pulled muscle in back, video gaming doesn’t quite work the core)  Scott was relaxed.  The temperature was perfect and just being outside felt great.  I felt a little like a yo yo.  Up, fun, smiling, donuts,
a happy teen boy.  Down, I miss my beautiful girl, I don’t want to be a VIP, I want Hayley.

Time for a shower and a trip to the local mall for trail shoes.  In my frenzied packing I could not find my hiking boots, although they would not fit in any of our carry ons (stand by flying).  We are then heading to Sedona until Wednesday.  I have been told by multiple people that it is one of the most naturally beautiful places and that it is spiritual and peaceful.  Not sure this will be Henry’s favorite part.  I can only wish on a thousand stars that I find some peace even for a few moments.  I really feel like it will go two ways.  I will find my center even if only temporary or the quiet will let the grief and pain flood my soul.  For several weeks I have felt like the leash I have on the grief I call the beast has started to fray.  I am fearful of what the break will look like.

Thank you for reading.

Travel journal, Sunday Morning.   —- Dawn

 

 

 

 

Hey, hey, easy kids. Everybody in the car. Boat leaves in two minutes… or perhaps you don’t want to see the second largest ball of twine on the face of the earth, which is only four short hours away? — Clark