Author: Hayley’s Mom

“This is no longer a vacation.  It’s a Quest.  It’s a Quest for fun.  You’re gonna have fun, and I’m gonna have fun…We’re all gonna have so much fucking fun we’re gonna need plastic surgery to remove our goddamn smiles. You’ll be whistling “Zip-A-Dee Doo-Dah” out of your assholes! I must be crazy! I’m on a pilgrimage to see a moose. Praise Marty Moose! Holy Shit!” – Clark

My favorite line from National Lampoon Vacation.  This was going through my head as I was squished in a middle seat between a nice, but larger than me gal and a tiny little dude with a puffy Patagonia coat and his shoes off.  I was sweating my ass off, wtf?  I had spent the night packing for all three of us, knowing I forgot everything and trying to pack on a carry on items for 70 degrees and 34 degrees.  I didn’t get my house cleaned up, it is a disaster left for the wonderful dog sitter.  This guilt was weighing me down, Scott was annoyed about it.  I think he thinks I do nothing all day.  I watch the puppy and cry, this is a big job.

I got into the seat and literally could not move, could not get any entertainment options out of my bag.  I was faced with reading all the materials in the back of the seat pocket.  I also located the barf bag and got it handy.  Not because I had to barf, but I always do that to freak out my seat mates and maybe gain me some more distances as they shrink away from my perceived germs.  I had had a bloody nose earlier in the day so I needed to get my little Kleenex packet out of my pant’s pocket.  Yes the little packets my mother carries in her purse.  Sigh.  I tried so hard to get it out without elbowing her in the boob, all while touching her ample cheeks and no go.  She offered to help me and asked; is it in the front pocket.  I hesitated and thought to myself, I am sweating my ass off so probably don’t smell my best and so would blood all over the front of me be the deal breaker.  When you travel on Buddy Passes your behavior reflects on the employee, my sister in law in this case.  So yeah, do you mind?  She reaches into my front pocket and I was realizing that as Clark said “I must be crazy”.  I was just so thankful my brother across the aisle in the other middle seat was not paying attention with his lovely headphones on.  I apologized for the fact that we were basically sharing two seats and we needed three.  I thought she said “That’s okay, I have five kids so I am used to not having personal space”.  I was shocked as she didn’t look that old but who knows.  I said “Wow, five, I bet you get no privacy when you go to the bathroom”.  I groaned internally, ugh, Dawn, she just had her hand in your jogger pants pocket, did you have to mention privacy.  She then proceeded to tell me about how her dog and cat don’t let her go to the bathroom alone, the story was in great detail.  I was very confused.  You have five kids and you are concerned about the dog watching you pee?  Of course she showed me pictures of the pets.  I told her I had 4, she kind of stopped talking to me after that.  I could hear her saying in her head “crazy dog lady”.  It was not until later that I realized she had said she was one of five kids growing up.  My hearing is going, add it to the other middle age woes.

So for weeks we have been “discussing” what to do for the Holiday season.  I had been told by many that the first Holidays are awful.  I always responded in my head, in my snarky voice, how can it possible be more awful than it is right now?  Well guess what boys and girls, it can get worse and it has gotten worse.  All I know is I need this last two weeks of this shitty year to go by as fast as possible.  We have had discussions in therapy about it.  Here is what each person thinks of going on a vacation when I brought it up.

Me – I want to go to D.C., neither of the boys have been, hotels are cheap this time of year and it is not crowded because it is cold.  I don’t care.  I prefer bundling up, over crowds.  But we are going somewhere and we are going to fucking bond as a three person family.  Another first that needs the bandaid ripped off.  It is going to be a fucking “Quest for Fun”.  If we are not home on Christmas all the better.  Why stare at each other the morning of Christmas wondering which of the kids will find the green frog that indicates who opens the first present.  Will we leave her stocking empty?  Do we still go to the zoo?

Scott – How much will it cost? You don’t have a job.  It is important to me we are home Christmas day.  I don’t want to be cold.  I want to go somewhere warm.  But when you ask me I can’t tell you where and I clearly don’t understand how long it takes to plan a vacation.  It can not be done the week before.  It is more expensive if you wait.

Henry – I don’t want to go any where.  I want to stay home.  I don’t want to waste half my Christmas break on vacation.  (“With you guys” was implied)

The Dogs – What is a vacation? Who will feed us?

I was losing my mind.  My wonderful sister in law had offered us buddy passes for our airfare.  Which means you have to be flexible.  If it was Hayley I could convince her to go to the airport with me and we pick a flight to anywhere we could go with open seats.  The boys, flexibility and spontaneity is not a strong part of their personalities.  Going with the flow, not a quote in their vocabulary.  I felt so lonely without my half of the family.  So yes I was feeling crazy and almost ready to give up the Quest.

I suggested Arizona and got a less than enthusiastic “maybe”.  So I reached out to my Facebook community asking for suggestions of where to go.  That is when my wonderful BFF from Junior High offered to add me to his friends and family for Hilton, half off hotels.  I started to feel hopeful with all this generosity we could make it happen.  I made it happen and ironically it didn’t all come together until the week before.  So Friday the 15th we left Seattle and flew to Phoenix arriving near midnight.  The plan is stay near the airport Friday night or what was left of it.  Two rooms near the airport, one for Kevin and Henry and one for Scott and I.  Top Golf was on the itinerary.

This reminds me that I really struggle with the generosity we have received.  The Go Fund Me Account gave both Scott and I the chance to be home where we needed to be for 12 weeks.  The list of kindness is so long and deserves to be its own discussion.  This is the Arizona Lampoon Vacation Journal.

So back to Day One.  We were arriving in Arizona at midnight their time.  I had to explain to both boys that it was 11 to us.  My brother and I wanted to rally and go to Top Golf which is this amazing place.  Golf driving range on crack.  I was still wedged in my middle seat.  I had bought the last two cheese platters, one for me and please flight attendant can you bring the other to my son in row 16.  Visions of Henry hungry, wedged and uncomfortable made me decide to go for a walk to check on him and try to keep myself from getting a second DVT.  Tiny dude with stinky feet and no shoes would not get up.  He thought that I could squeeze by him if he turned his legs sideways.  I desperately pondered should I face him and appear that I was straddling him.  With his size and my girth this would put my privates directly in his face and I knew that I would not keep my balance with my stiff legs.  I could turn the other way and pull on blondie’s seat and have my sweaty ass in little dude’s face.  Appealing but now I realize that he has left his shoes, I note abnormally large for his size, in the aisle.  I said politely “Unless you want me to trip please move your SHOES”.  He finally gets the hint and gets out of the seat.  I hope the thought of going to the potty makes him need to go so I can pull my bag out and get my phone charger so I can get on it and stop trying to cop glimpses of the vampire show my gal friend was watching on her iPad.  I did share my cheese plate with her.  I figured that was the right thing to do since she had had her hand in my pocket.  I tried not to land in someone’s lap as I stiffly walked back towards my husband and son.  I was hoping it was not horrible for them too, or I would hear about it.  BOTH were in exit rows.  You know, with extra leg room.  You have to be kidding me.  I asked Henry if he enjoyed his platter and offered to take his garbage.  Three other travelers in the area also handed me their garbage.  Are you fucking kidding me.  Then the cart has blocked my path by two rows.  They suggest I go to First Class.  So balancing garbage and empty glasses I try not to fall as the plane bounces around.  I make it up front and into the head.  Where I DO NOT pee.  I sat on the closed lid to take a rest.  I stayed for a reasonable amount of time wondering what possessed Boeing to put mirrors on all sides so that you can enjoy how shitty you really look traveling.  As I stared at my PMS acne, bags under my eyes, and all the new gray hair; I realized we should have stayed home.  I cried for Hayley.  I could hear all her smart ass comments.  I should have gone on vacation alone.  I should have taken one of the dogs.  What the fuck was I thinking.  “I’m Crazy. Praise Red Rocks and 64 degrees!  Holy Shit” — Dawn

 

One thing that Hayley inherited from me was the love of the water.  Specifically the Washington and Oregon Coast.  We spent hours looking for sand dollars; we have them in clear jars all over the house.  She had sand from Cannon Beach in a jar.  We went every year since she was 6 months old.  I don’t know when I can go, but I will bring a part of her ashes there some day.   We had planned to get small wave tattoos in August.  She didn’t know I had made the appointment.  When I was convincing her to go small with the first one and do it as a team I would send her images and words to remind her what the wave tattoo would mean to us.  Like “When you go through deep waters, I will be with you.”  “she is tossed by the sea but does not sink”  ” mightier than the waves is my love for you”.  Who knew all of these images and words would become so meaningful to me.  Here are some of the images I text her on a daily basis.  I always sent her something like this every day.  Not all were inspirational!

The ocean will always be our place.  I crave the sound of the ocean.

The one that says “Feelings are much like waves, we can’t stop them from coming but we can choose which ones to surf”  That is so applicable to this grief.  The problem is that I have not learned which ones to surf.  All feel like giant waves that toss me around until I am exhausted.  This grief is not getting better it is getting profoundly worse.  I am wondering why?  I think the first half of this four months I was manic.  Find ways to honor Hayley.  There was a constant stream of food, friends and love on our porch.  I am so blessed because that still happens but less frequently.  AND WAIT, before you rush over to put something on my porch, I am not asking you to do that.  I believe that constant in your face support and care, well that holds you up like having a bar on either side of you to hold on to.  Now it is much quieter.  The quiet brings memories.  It brings Hayley to me. The quiet brings the grief.

It comes in waves.  A trigger makes you catch your breath as the first wave hits your body and your mind.  You gasp at the force and the pain of that wave. Then it recedes and the next one comes.  All you can do is ride the wave and brace yourself.

My body and mind are never truly at rest.  Recently I have what I can only describe as a storm.  Waves that come too close together, I can’t catch my breath.  Twice this has happen in the car.  Once was just the thought out of the blue ocean of grief, If we had chosen to take her to the ER in Seattle instead of Issaquah on July 11th she would likely still be here.  Such a small decision at the time.  The doctor said Seattle, Hayley said Issaquah.  I knew they would move her by ambulance to Seattle where they have more depth if she needed bigger care.

They did not move her.

This one decision haunts me.  When that wave hit it was a shock.  I could not control the emotions associated with those choices.  All I could do was sit in the car and scream her name.  The other time this week my brain played back the reel of watching her die.  Watching them give her CPR while I was restrained by Scott.  The two of us made this beautiful human and we watched her go.  I could hear as I was driving home on Friday my screams and Scott’s sobbing.  I called Sara and all I had to say was “talk me down”.  She did.  I don’t know if that is PTSD, but it is all consuming.  I am terrified of when that wave may come again.  It is so overwhelming.

How will I work?  Financially I have to be back to work by February or we will be in a stressful situation.  We are so grateful for the go fund me page and our communities generosity.  No one does financial planning for the death of a child.  You have to make sure you would have the ability to not work for at least the 14 weeks Scott had.  So how do I interview, how do I sell myself to a company.  How do I make them see past my grief and know that I am talented and a hard worker?  I don’t know.  The thought of working on my resume and interviews makes me shiver and hyperventilate.  I hold my breath until the panic passes.  How do I sit down and write about myself in a way that makes someone pick up my resume over another.  Joe Schmo won’t have this underlying disabling grief.  I can not imagine doing anything other than trying to survive each day.  Can I find a job that pays me to breathe?

I want to open a business.  Hayley and I had a business plan ready to go.  We even called on property.  We wanted to know how much it would take and how long before we could save the seed money.  It was such a wonderful way to teach her and share what I learned in college as a Business Major.  Just as I loved hearing about her classes and how excited she was for the ones she had in the fall.  Her friends are starting to come home for break.  She should be here, she should be in her room with her night time routine of “Lock Up” on her tv.  She should have been there to admire Henry as he tried his new tux on.  She would be driving down Wednesday for his first Band Concert.  I have no doubt she would do this.  Our dream was to open a storefront, a self service dog wash.  A place dog lovers can gather and bath their pets and let us deal with the mess.  We had retail sales planned and the name.  Bark Club.  We had clever marketing ready to go.  Another dream that ended with Hayley.

She and I were planners.  If we were going on vacation we had to know the plan.  We had planned to rent a small RV and start visiting National Parks for one month next summer.  Our goal was to visit all of the National Parks.  We planned to visit Cannon Beach.  We talked about another boat trip with my parents.  Our love of the trip we had to Cape Cod.

Before her July 11th surgery we had her decor, bedding and kitchen gear all ready to go for her new apartment.  There are boxes in a storage unit marked “Hayley’s Apartment”.  She was ready for her Sophomore year in a way that made us so proud to be her Parents.  She was starting to show the drive that I had at her age.  I was so happy to see my gene pool kicking in.

I don’t even know where I am going with this one,  I have lost the thread.  The ocean…waves represent to me the emotions that are constantly hitting me and withdrawing.  The tide is the change in attitude that happens constantly.  It can be only a few times a day like the Tide or it could be hourly.  You pray the tide goes out quickly so you can pick up the pieces and wait for the next wave to hit

My brain has been exploring the differences between father and mother.  Scott and I are totally opposites.  Not the best subjects for these thoughts.  I don’t think he or any father can ever understand the bond a mother has with her child.  I do not take for granted or ignore the bond Scott had with Hayley.  He worked hard to stay close with her.  We knew raising a successful teen takes an involved father.  But when that child has come from your body there is no comparison.  She may have been 19 years old but it feels as if she was ripped from my womb.  I feel the waves hit me.  I can close my eyes and feel her moving inside me, I can pull the memory of laying my hands on my huge belly and talking to her about how fantastic life would be.  We didn’t know if it was a boy or girl.  But my heart told me girl.  She lived inside my body for 36 weeks.  While there she took a piece of my heart with her.  I just don’t think Scott can understand the physical pain that I feel inside of my body.  From day one she had me smitten.  You love your child, but I honestly liked her.  Physically I feel the missing piece every day in my Fibromyalgia pain, I feel it with my stiffness, I feel her loss in my stuff nose from crying on my sleep.  My heart aches.  She took some of it with her just like the waves take sand and toss it into the ocean.  I may find it again walking on a beach, but for now I am not whole.  I am desperately trying not to drown.  I am standing strong against the pounding of those waves.

The three F’s, Fun, Free, & Fucking awesome.  This is going to be my motto this week.  A friend and lived the motto well Saturday.  We wanted to go to the big Bath and Body Candle sale.  It was a rough week.  My stomach was not my friend the last few days.  I finally felt better today.  Just tired from a rough night and sore from a Fibromyalgia Flare up, see more F’s.  I will talk about the Fibro another time.  Recently I had a little fun with the ornaments at Target as Hayley and I would have done together.  I was quickly matched by a friend the next night.  Friday my evening did not go as planned.  After leaving late due to the above gastro issues and falling asleep, I missed my niece’s basketball game.  I could not get there in time thanks to some traffic and accidents caused by idiots that seem to forget how to drive when it rains.  I decided after aborting plans that I needed to pick up a few necessities at Costco.  Imodium, Tums, and my Christmas present  to myself, a point and shoot camera.  Immediately I was met and slapped in the face with the Gingerbread House Kits right at the entrance.  Each year I bought two.  The kids would have a contest with Scott and I as the judges.  Each year Hayley would lose patience about halfway through and start drawing stuff with the icing.  Last year’s work of art had penises on the roof and other places.  Needless to say, Henry won.  I started crying immediately.  Just big silent tears rolling down my face.  I worked my way to the cameras and had a great employee help me out.  Two aisles away another amazing Hayley and Mom opportunity for Fun.  They had mermaid pillows!  These are sequin pillows that you rub and they change colors.  Shortly before her surgery we tried to spell a fun message out of pillows on a shelf in Bed Bath and Beyond.  We kept being interrupted by an employee.  Our giggles got loud and we didn’t accomplish our goal so we spent 45 minutes sitting in the massage testing chairs.  We talked and caught up about Spring quarter.

Right as I turned down that aisle I got a text from my Target ornament friend and she provided me with a message from a Target in Utah!  Lol, Hayley has inspired Fun, Free and Fucking Awesome behavior in more than one state. This picture inspired me to do the same with the mermaid pillows.  But these suckers are kid magnets and I swear, there were a hundred kids there on a Friday night, mostly unsupervised.  They kept interrupting my hi-jinks.  Finally I accomplished my goal!  I had been caught and I just smiled and waved.  Get this; the young couple looked disgusted and she, being deaf, signed  word “ass” so I know they were talking about me.  Whatever that was funny shit.

 

One of the things that this tragedy has taught me is that honestly I don’t give a shit what people think of me.  I have always found being an extrovert came naturally.  I have faced my worse nightmare.  If I want to giggle, swear or have some fun when out and about; and you don’t like it….that is YOUR problem not mine.  These moments of levity are rare right now.  So when it happens it is both draining and at the same time makes me feel closer to Hayley.  Hayley would have climbed into that mermaid pillow bin and wrote an entire sentence while I was the look out.  I also got odd looks as I sat in a red Barcalounger at the end of the wine aisle playing with my new mermaid pillow.  I was tucked under the shelves and needed that break before I hauled my tired ass to the check out.  But why do we judge people.  We should admire people that seem to be having fun or doing their own thing.  If they are not hurting anyone or doing something illegal, who cares.  Smile.

So today we had lunch while I waited for Scott to bring my forgotten wallet down to us in Issaquah.  Yes, he did, amazing huh?  I did reward him with a to go order.  While we ate, my friend and I discussed how the holidays were kicking my ass.  I was dreading trying to be normal.  She came up with a brilliant solution to the Christmas tree dilemma.  I was not looking forward to trimming the tree with all of our sentimental ornaments.  Each one told a story of a trip or a memorable occasion.  One from all the zoo trips on Christmas Eve.  A Mickey Mouse from her first trip at 4.  A Sand dollar from Scott and I’s first trip as a couple, it says 1990 on it.  The one that says “we are pregnant 8/31/1997”  My lunch date also pointed out the damage a 3 month old puppy could do to my precious ornaments.  Those ornaments are my most valuable possessions.  I love every one of my decorations.  They all tell a story and they all involve Hayley.  My friend’s brilliant idea.  Don’t even open the box.  Pick a theme, buy new ornaments, and have a new tree!  One that can be moved to another room next year when we are strong enough to bring back traditions and open that box of precious memories.  It felt extravagant to do something like trim an entire tree.

We went to Target,  it seemed like this was the last weekend before Christmas.  People were going nuts and so cranky.  We chose blue and silver.  Navy blue to match her cause bracelets and WWU colors.  We planned to make some ornaments that look like the Hayley glassy baby.  As we were leaving I ran into someone special.  Scott’s manager and someone I have worked with before.  I have known him nearly 15 years.  I had great hugs and mocked his WSU Cougar gear.  We talked about Scott’s first month back and then headed for the candles.  I was able to catch his wife, hug her and thank her for some really nice and generous care she gave me.  She warned us about the candle sale.

I actually parked my cart in the store and went at it.  Scott loves their three wick candles.  He likes to have one lit most of the time.  With four dogs it is a very good idea.  I love buying them and he loves using them.  Win/Win.  It was a mad house.  I tried to make people smile.  I call it flirting, not like with a man, but just comments to other women, engaging them in a conversation or helping them find the candle they wanted.  For a short time I felt like me again. I convinced one lady to smell the most nasty one ever, Summer Boardwalk.  I double dog dare you to go in and take a big whiff of that one.

This is my happy place.  I could spend hours in that store.  I love lotion and shower gel.  Even Henry is hooked on his Black Chamomile and Lavendar body wash.  Everyone in the house loves it.  It comes and go like an elusive rare bird so when they have it I stock up!  I love that my family likes candles and smelly soaps.  I was in the long line and when I got up there my 10 candles were behind the counter.  I felt that I had been in a frenzy and needed to re-smell them all just to make sure I was satisfied with my purchases.  Honestly the poor checker was so slow and obviously flustered by the insanity.  Candles were even sold out online.  I think some of those bitches would have cut someone for the Balsam Candle.  At this time my friend saunters up and says straight faced “excuse me ma’am but you are holding up the line”  I responded loudly “you know what, go fuck yourself”.  I had no filter.  I usually have a pretty flimsy one to start with, but the filter was non existent this night.  The poor cashier was like ‘blink, blink’ with no smile at all.  I explained that was my friend.  Still no smile.  Really?  That was funny shit.  I did monopolize the cashier for a long time so I headed towards my friend three back in the line.  Again she says something like “You took long enough, did you have to smell them all geez”.  I responded with “kiss my ass” loudly to the dismay of the mother and her 7 year old right behind us.  Crap!  I apologized profusely, the woman gave me nothing, no response, no words, no smile.  She put one hand over her daughter’s right ear.  WTF, can she not hear me curse out of the left ear.  The 7 year old actually cracked a smile and I saw in her eyes that her mom clearly has used the word ‘Ass’ in front of her before.   

I went and borrowed a little stool and sat next to my cart to wait.  I looked like a homeless person trying to stay warm and smell good.  My friend unbeknownst to me took a photo.  Not only is my weight gain horribly noticeable but I had not showered, I was sweating profusely and exhausted from trying to get some fucking smiles.  Seriously we were hilarious but only the two of us thought so.  Whatever.

We moved on to Homegoods which also was a Cluster.  It was so much fun to pick new ornaments and decorations for my beach theme tree.  The tree skirt is stunning.  Hayley and I loved the ocean, the beach, the bay, any kind of water.  Some of our best memories were on the two major sailing trips with my parents on the east coast.  We didn’t need to be on the water but near it is absolutely required for us.  I need it like I need air.  Hayley felt the same way.  Our first tattoo in August was going to be a minimalist wave on our ankles.

Speaking of ankles I came home exhausted, drained, salty, sweaty and my bad ankle looked like an elephant foot.  I lost it on Henry and had to apologize later and ask if he knew what PMS meant.  So the moral of the story.  If you see someone having fun even if it involves swearing, number one it is probably me and number two, smile.  It will make you feel better.  It is science.  Stop judging. Guess what the gender was of everyone I saw judging our shenanigans?  Yep Female!  Women are assholes to other women.  I am so over it and willing to be vocal about it.  It was Women that caused me to lose my job.  I may need bail money eventually!

It is time for women to stop the judging.  Be Fun.  Be Free.  Be Fucking awesome.  We pushed babies out of our bodies after growing them inside of us for 40 weeks.  We survive raising them.  In my case we watch in horror as they leave us.  We are fucking bad ass.  I have been so blessed with women reaching out with messages of support, cards, food, treats, calls, offers to clean my house, or anything I need.  It has been so humbling, almost embarrassing.  But I am getting better at accepting this support without criticizing myself.  Remember Women judging Women also implies to negative self talk for us.

So next time you are in line for candles.  Lighten UP!  Cause YOU ARE STANDING IN LINE TO BUY WONDERFUL SMELLING CANDLES!  I hate to play the Hayley card but guess what, my daughter is dead.  What do you have to frown about.  What are you teaching your kids.  If I can have fun in a madhouse candle sale, so can you.  I challenge you to smile at strangers and strike up one conversation with a stranger in the next week.  Tell me about it in the comments section.  It can be as simple as helping them find the right scent at a candle sale.

The feedback that I have received on this blog/journal has been humbling, exciting, satisfying and embarrassing.  I started this as a way to express myself and not hide my grief from myself or my friends.  I was receiving text, calls and messages wanting to know what I needed and how it was going.  I figured I would save time and put some of that information in my writing.

Thanksgiving week I needed more, I needed someone in my house with me for the Thanksgiving week.  I am very alone in my own home, yet I don’t easily accept any invitations for company or to leave the house.  It is an epic example of you can’t win.  People ask, I say ‘no’ or I cancel at the last minute when the thought of dressing and showering is just too much to handle.  Some days I can’t tell you what day of the week it is or when I showered last.  I barely move.  I finally charged my fit bit and I barely hit 2,000 steps.  This is one of the many faces of grief.  That face never has make up on.

Many encouraged the puppy as a therapy dog for me.  I can’t sleep in, or go back to bed with a canine baby set on destroying our home and tormenting my older dogs.  I have never been a morning person but guess who is up between 5:30 to 6:00 every fucking morning.  Yep, that adorable puppy.  All of us are so in love with this little bundle of fluff.  He has me moving a little more each day.  He knows when we need a hug and when we need to play.  He loves anyone he meets.  I watch him interact with others and my family.  I think to myself we all should be like Finn.  Everything makes him happy.  Zoey growls at him or Charlie hides upstairs because he doesn’t want to play with Finn, but he does a doggy shrug and moves on.  I wish I could do that.  I wish I could fall asleep as fast as he does.  (except at night in the crate)  I wish I was entertained by chasing leaves blown by the wind.  I am trying to be like Finn.  He even has an instagram.  this has been a great distraction.  @belikefinnthegolden  @belikehayley

I had been dreading Thanksgiving week.  I didn’t know what or who I needed to make it tolerable.   I had instilled my love of holidays and traditions in Hayley.  In fact she was the keeper and the hall monitor of traditions.  If we ever tried to stray from one without her permission the turkey shit would hit the fan.  I knew we would do Salty’s at Alki for the amazing holiday buffet.  It got a little confusing who would go with us, because I knew it could not be the three of us.  Can you imagine?  Me, a 15 year old boy and an introvert husband.  There is not enough Xanax.  I didn’t know who I needed.  Some on that short list were not available.  I was chatting on line about life and Satly’s and how amazing it was with my cousin.  That is when she said (about two weeks prior) how about Maddie and me come up next Saturday and leave late on Thanksgiving?  The airfare is cheap.  Really?  Sandy is not the most spontaneous person.  This would be the second time this year she has come to spend time with me after years of me going to see her in Las Vegas.  It made sense, that was where our grandma was.  That is not counting the two trips she made for Hayley.   I got a bonus with her daughter wanting to come too.  I immediately felt more calm, more ready to handle the week.  It made me feel very loved.  It was so nice to have a teen girl in the house again, heck it was exciting to have the girls outnumber the boys.  We brunched, got mani and pedis, visited a poinsettia nursery, ate lots of Maddie’s new favorite Top Pot Donuts, spent hours painting rocks and talking and relaxed with the puppy.  When I needed a rest they loved watching Finn for me.

 

I had spoken the week before with a representative at Salty’s about our situation.  We had tried to add more to our reservation to include Sara’s family but that was not happening.  I wanted to see if they could put us somewhere out of the high traffic areas.  I was worried how I would react to the crowd.  People are dangerous at buffets.  The man on the phone was amazing.  He thanked me for telling him about our tradition and our family’s sorrow.  He seemed sincere in his happiness we were still going.  We had an extra seat at the table.  Instead of having her seat empty we filled it with one of her favorite people.  So there we were, an eclectic group of “family” waiting.  Three McCutcheons, two Cousins and a homeroom teacher!  When I checked us in I was feeling overwhelmed by the people and the surreal feeling that Hayley was not standing next to me planning her buffet strategy.  The hostess said “Welcome, we have been waiting for you”.  Uh, okay.  I sat with my group and the hostess came to ask if we minded waiting 20 minutes for a view table so that our out of town relatives could enjoy the city and water view.  Of course we didn’t we were all together chatting, even Henry, so we could wait.  Again she returned and asked if I could come with her to look at our options.  She said they had two VIP tables that would be available shortly.  She held my hand as we worked our way towards the water view.  I chose a wonderful table.  I did feel like a Very Important Person.  I was, I am Hayley’s Mom.  Everyone ate until they couldn’t eat another bite.  We visited the Macy’s Parade Nutcrackers like we do every year.  We walked as far as we could along the water without puking.  Just like all the other years.  Just like our old tradition but also new traditions.  The 10 dollar ceramic turkey from Fred Meyers was on the table.  I slipped a few apple dumplings in a baggie in my purse just like Hayley would have.  (probably not continuing that one)

When it was time for Sandy and Maddie to leave that night again the curtain of grief descended.  I had 5 days of a reprieve.  It was not without grief.  Maddie missed her cousin.  I felt like I mothered a little for a teen girl.  I missed it.  When it was time for them to leave I weeped in Sandy’s arms.  I just wanted her to never leave.  We compliment each other, we get each other.

So was I thankful on Thanksgiving?  The week leading up to it I saw people posting “thankful” or “blessed” posts on social media.  I actually did the finger gag sign even though I was always alone.  I thought “Gag me, shove your thankful shit up your asses”.  Nice huh?  I was not thankful or blessed.  How could I be?  My daughter is dead.  Nothing compares.  Nothing makes me feel blessed.  I know others feel like this without a death in their family.  Maybe they had a bad year, maybe they are going through a divorce or lost their job.  So how do we feel thankful on the holiday that is all about that feeling.  I started with the obvious and was very blunt in my self conversation.  I didn’t want to think about being thankful at all with Hayley gone.  It felt like an insult to her and her memory.  I started with a list.

The thought bubble over my head read “fine let’s fucking try this, I know it will be dumb”.  I am thankful for…

• I am thankful that my son is not dead.  Sorry blunt.  True.  Hayley was my sunshine and Henry is my moon.  Both provide light in different ways.
• I am thankful for Scott and his strength when I needed it.
• I am thankful Scott and I are still married after 27 years together (shit, that is a long time)
• I am thankful Sandy and Maddie were here.
• I am thankful for my three older mutts and their ability to know when I need them and that they are literally are my shadows.
• I am thankful for the damn puppy.
• I am thankful for a community that wrapped their arms around us in so many ways.
• I am thankful for the people that continue to send messages, leave treats (not asking), and show me they care.
• I am thankful people still wear Hayley’s cause bracelets.
• I am thankful that a media professional I trust and respect is going to tell Hayley’s story.  Be Like Hayley.  Be Kind.  Be Real.  Be an Organ Donor.
• I am thankful her friends have not forgotten about me.

At this point, the thought bubble softens a bit, “OMG this list is pretty long so far”.  Let’s keep going.

• I am thankful for our home
• I am thankful for the go fund me page and people’s generosity have helped us while I have limited income.  I am glad I was not asked for permission before it was set up as I would have let my pride say no and it has been a blessing.
• I am thankful for the time strangers took to send me messages and tell me stories about Hayley.  Stories I had no idea existed.  These words helped me really get to know my daughter better.
• I am thankful for my crew, my tribe, my B.U.M.s (Back Up Moms)
• I am thankful for Henry’s friends.  These boys circled the wagons and showed maturity and care that is not normal for their ages.
• I am thankful for the moms that have raised such nice boys, see previous.
• I am thankful for all of the messages about how this journal has touched and impacted others.  Did not expect that.
• I am thankful for my brother and sister in law, without them I would not have survived that week with any amount of grace.
• I am thankful for my Mom, because as far away as she is, I know she will always answer my call no matter what; probably dives for it if necessary. She is very limber for her age.
• I am thankful for everyone that came to her service.  I am thankful they stood in the heat and 10 people deep.  Some standing outside in the heat trying to hear through the windows.  Over 500 people when we expected 150.

As I type the worries and the scary reality of my current situation tried to creep into my head.  Instead of going down that rabbit hole I typed another ‘thankful for’ item.  Yes, I am scared about money.  I am worried about finding a job.  I am worried about my health both physical and mentally.  I am worried about long term effects on Henry.  I am worried I will never ever feel truly happy.  I worry people will forget her.  Trust me this list is just as long.

But you see the point here is I don’t want to hear people bitch about their lives right now.  If I can find even one thing to be thankful for let alone over 20, then you can find one too.  Do not take your children for granted.  They are all assholes.  Hayley was a pro at that.  Oh, yours isn’t yet, wait for the teen years, wait for the soiling the next before college.  But when they are, flip them off behind their backs and just be happy they are alive.  The holidays should not be about the gifts, if you have children, it is about them.  Create memories because you will be thankful for them when they have flown the nest.  Make plans.  Hayley and I had the next ten years planned out.  She was planning to graduate in 2020 with a degree in Criminal Justice, minors in communications and psychology.  She would have made an amazing FBI agent or police officer.  She would say “Mom, when I graduate I will move back home since Henry will be heading to college so that you never have to have an empty nest”.  You know what; there was nothing I would love more than have my children live with me as long as they want.  Scott agreed.  They would not be entitled free loaders, but they would be loved and respected twenty somethings.  Hayley will forever be 19.  We had plans for her 21st Birthday that involved Peach Vodka.  Next summer we were going to rent an RV or small trailer and start working towards our life goal of visiting every National Park.  Just the two of us.  Scott and Henry were not interested.  She promised never to marry someone that didn’t like her mom.  I would babysit her children.  We talked about it all.  We had plans for this December.  Disneyland for my birthday.  She wanted more time with her Uncle and Aunt and I quote “mom why don’t we do more stuff with them, they are cool, who knew”.  She had her budget made for the next school year.  She had planned to work at Alaska Air at the Bellingham airport and the Sammamish Cafe when home.

How do I feel thankful when I will miss these experiences with her?  I read the list.  Despite our plans not to we did go around the table before racing to the buffet to say what we were thankful for.  We all said we were thankful for each other and this moment.  Henry said he was thankful for “Charlie”; just like he does every year.  Maybe I have another tradition lover in the family.

My therapist has pointed out that I am a very empathetic person.  Which probably explains why I cry easily watching sad news stories or feel their joy when soldiers return home to their family.  Hayley was just the same.  My mini me.  I have an active imagination.  In the last 19 years I have imagined every scenario possible that would result in one of my children’s deaths or injury.  I know it is kind of creepy.  I am the one that researched the shit out of every single car seat I purchased.  For two kids I purchased more than 8 different car seats and boosters.  They were never handed down.  I always had to have the latest in safety.  I would read results from lab tests.  I always paid attention to the laws in countries like Denmark.  They were always the leaders in safety.  If we had an accident my babies would survive.  I was the one informing other moms to not face their child forward yet.  Scott had a running joke that he still digs up after 20 years.  It goes like this.  “Hey Dawn, I am having trouble going to sleep, can you tell me about your car seat research”.  No joke, he said it in the last month.  Once I survived car seats.  Poor Henry was the only kid in 2nd grade still using a booster.  “No Henry, let me read you this report, you have to be a certain weight and height, I love you and want you safe”.  Poor guy he acted like I was making him wear pull ups to school.  Then junior high.  The girls do what to the boys in the back of the bus?  WTF.  I have always viewed the raising of my children to be a war.  I was the general and responsible for guiding them safely through the various stages of childhood the best I could.  So when I told her that I could tell if she gave a boy a blowjob it was just my way of battling the forces of evil.  That reminds me of a memory.  Many of you have heard this story, mainly cause it is funny shit.  Hayley and I took a parent and kid class at Overtake Hospital about sex and puberty.  It was around the 4th or 5th grade.  I went with her friend and her mom, they have known each other since 6 months old and now they were giggling over tampons.  Hayley pulled it a part and pretended it was an earring.  At one point they separated us.  The kids went with a pediatrician to talk about their bodies without the uncomfortable moms listening.  Us Moms and it was 99% Moms, we sat and listened to another medical professional tell us all the scary things we had to worry about.  She told us about the Blowjobs aka Favors.  My head was spinning.  The one thing that stuck was you have to talk about oral sex.  She said before Junior High.  To make sure you don’t skim over it when having “the talk”.  That week we had “the talk” but not the “oral talk”.  She wasn’t in Junior High yet.  Scott participated in “the talk”.  The books I read suggested an involved father was the key to for a daughter to successfully navigate puberty. He had no issue with it.  I orchestrated a plan with him.  I talked to her alone.  I had books.  Then 10 minutes in he joined the conversation.  He told her he loved her so much and that she could talk to him about anything even periods. He may have mentioned killing any boy that hurt her.  He truly is the best father.  He was there for her on Black Friday 2012 when she got her first period and I was out with my friends.  I brought her home a giraffe pillow pet and Scott, I brought him a bottle of Vodka.

So she is in Junior High.  I am stressing out because I have not had the “oral talk”.  I am waiting for the perfect moment.  I thought it had come.  We were on our way to dance and from the backseat of my white Honda minivan she says “Mom what is a BJ?”.   Here we go!!!   I had rehearsed this moment for months.  “Hayley, I am so glad you asked me that”  I then proceeded to verbally vomit on her all kinds of wisdom.  I told her I could tell if she had done it.  I told her it rots your teeth and if she did that I wouldn’t pay for braces.  I told her that it can cause cancer.  Don’t judge, it is a war.  I told her that oral was sex no matter what the boy said.  I told her that I hoped she would respect herself and say no.  I explained that as a feminist I found the whole idea of giving a blow job and getting nothing in return was a load of crap.  This may have gone over her head.  Finally I took a breath.  I looked in the rearview mirror and saw her trying not to laugh.  I then hear this “Hey Mom, I really appreciate the information but I know what a BJ is, I asked what is a VJ”.  What?  On the radio they were talking about MTV and how one of them had been a VJ.  “Oh, well that is a video jockey, they introduced music videos.  But do you have any questions about the other stuff?”  I lost track how many times I heard her tell that story to her friends.  “You won’t believe what my Mom did”

We survived Junior High with no penises.  Then she is 16, she is driving in a car alone and with other teen drivers.  How can I make sure she is safe?  Where is she right now?  Has there been an accident?  College, Will she drink and fall down those damn cement stairs outside of the Mathis dorm?  Will she try drugs?  Will she trust the wrong person and I will never see her again? Then back to the car, is she too tired to drive the two hours home?  Is she driving too fast?  (yes)

Being so paranoid about my children’s safety I often wondered how someone survived the death of a child.  I always said I couldn’t survive that.  I couldn’t function.  I saw it happen to women I knew.  How is she still standing?  I guess because of her other children, still, I would not be getting out of bed.  What did it feel like?  I wonder if I am not the only one that obsessed over these thoughts.  Some of you have wondered how I am still standing.  I have actually had people, mostly strangers say to me, “Wow, how are you standing? I couldn’t. I would not be able to do what you are doing, I would be curled up in a ball.”  “Well that was Tuesday, Bitch”  Maybe it is a compliment.  But what I hear is this person  judging me.  They think I should be grieving more.  It feels like they think I didn’t love my child as much as they love theirs.  The reason they think this is that people think grief is obvious.  They think you can see it.  It is crying.  It is not leaving the house.  Let me answer that question for you.

You cannot always see it.  What you see is just the absolute tiniest tip of the iceberg.  I had no idea.  I thought my well developed empathy allowed me to put myself in these other Mom’s shoes.  I have never been more wrong in my life.  While I worried about Hayley’s driving and other obvious dangers, her future lurked.  It never occurred to me that an outpatient day surgery with an epidural could result in her death.  Of course we sign the forms that say we understand there is a chance that could happen.  But even the anesthesiologist skimmed over that and said it would all be fine.  It was not fine.  You truly believe that doctors and nurses can fix anything and that they could never cause more harm.  How could I forget that they are human beings with flaws and not one of them perfect.  As a paranoid Mom how did I ever think that.  What if I had worried as much about this as I did the car seats?  Would I have been able to keep her safe?  I have always had 100% trust in the medical field.  It never occurred to me that a hospital would be so incompetent in their care over those 5 days that I would lose one of the loves of my life.  That only happens to other people, not me.  I have handled enough in my lifetime.  I have always laughed when I saw that quote, “God only gives challenges to the people that can handle them”.  Seriously, Fuck that!  I have handled my share for at least a dozen people.  Deaths of Grandparents.  Death of my stepmother while I watched. Death of my Father, watching his body being wheeled down the steps in a black bag realizing we will never have the chance to repair a complicated relationship.  Death of more than one friend.  Divorce with parents that made bad choices.  Separation from Scott.  I have been fired from the job that I was absolutely the best at.  I have been sued for helping an employee.  Cardiac Arrest.  Pacemaker.  I have had 9 surgeries in my lifetime.  I survived a DVT, blood clot.  I am way over my quota.  This is bullshit.  I want her back, I deserve it, I have earned it.

Grief is not just one feeling.  It is not a list of feelings and physical pain that fits neatly in a box.  It is always changing.  It changes even from hour to hour.  For example; I feel a sharp pain in my abdomen.  Constant and sharp.  I cry.  I want Hayley with every fiber of my being.  We are trying to plan a trip as a family.  Every idea is one Hayley would love.  There is that sharp pain like a knife being twisted.  I need her.  I need her right this minute.  I found another sock behind my nightstand.  So cute, pink and white.  I smelled it.  It smelled like her skin.  I told Scott to smell it, he agreed.  Asking him to smell his daughter’s sock no longer even seems odd.  The pain is so sharp, yet the tears are slow and big running down my face. This grief I call the knife.

Then there is the slow burn.  It usually starts earlier in the day.  It starts out slow and it gains strength as the day goes on.  I am irritable.  It doesn’t necessarily make me cry.  The fire grows.  The memories feed it.  Little things feed the burn.  A shoe.  A Target run, I should grab Hayley that, sigh.  Christmas decorations.  The fire grows all day.  Sometime it only takes an hour.  Then it explodes like a back draft.  The crying is physically painful.  I throw myself down on the floor, my whole body is tense.  The sobs are loud and they burn.  As slowly as it started the fire is drenched by the tears until you just physically are done for the day.  The slow burn usually requires Xanax.  People judge others that use pharmaceuticals to survive.  I don’t.  Those medications are what keep me standing and breathing.  My hope is that they will be my bridge to a time when I have the strength and skill set to manage my pain without them.  But if I never do, I am okay with that too.

Then there is the choke.  When I cannot talk without choking up.  Every sentence I am fighting the sobs.  I am shoving the pain down as hard as I can.  I feel it in my skin.  I feel it in my eyes.  I will look at the person with me and just hope they can see my signals.  I am not Okay.  Look in my eyes.  My throat is tight.  I can barely breathe.  Where is she?  Why did this happen?  When this type of grief is surfacing I need to talk about her.  I have to.  If I don’t I will choke on the grief.  If I talk about her she will not be forgotten.

Grief does not have a template.  The steps, Denial, Anger, Acceptance, etc.  That is bullshit.  There are so many more words and stages.  They don’t happen neatly in an order.  You can cycle through all of the stages in one day.  You can be stuck on one for weeks.  This pain is all consuming.  I am not me.  I am a shell of me.  I rarely look at myself in the mirror.  When I do I am startled by what I see.  My face does not look like me.  My body carries the extra weight.  My face is swollen.  My eyes are not mine.  I see someone else.  I don’t want to be this person.  This is not real.  Where is she?  Bring her back to me.  Bring my daughter back to me.  Our Family is missing a wheel.  Hayley and I were the two front tires in a front wheel drive vehicle.  Henry and Scott were the back.  They still have their half.  My half is gone.  I am so lonely.  I am lonely in a crowd.  I am lonely with people that have gone out of their way to make me feel loved.  I have had so many amazing women reach out.  People that I only knew their name prior to the nightmare have stepped up and done so much to keep me standing.  That support is the only reason I am still here.  Half of me died with Hayley.  But the other half thrives on this attention.  Food, cards, little things on the doorstep, texts, emails, stories of Hayley.  Sometimes it comes in other forms.  I had mentioned in another post about Hayley and I loving to leave our mark on any display that had the alphabet.  It was too tempting, one of us would be the look out.  Saturday night I was at Target at midnight, closing.  It was great, no crowds. I found some ornaments and came up with the only word I could.  “Damnit”  I can hear her say it.  “Damnit Henry! Get your shit together”.  I can hear her voice trying not to break into a giggle.  Trying so hard to say it without laughing.  I posted it my work on Facebook.  One of my new friends, one of my new tribe members posted a picture tonight from the same Target.  Obviously it had been corrected, she made it Hayley worthy again.  I laughed, a real one.  I startled myself.  I had forgotten what a laugh felt like.

The Inspiration, Damnit #1

Thank You S.C., maybe we are trend setters

I think this will be a lighter entry.  Today was hard.  Duh, they are all hard, but some are just harder.  It seems unfair because so far none are easier but so many are harder.  Totally off balance.  I know I have talked about the “Be”, but I want to revisit it and share a recent peek into my personality and behavior.  Knowing me, you know Hayley.

In our kitchen we have Family Rules; Be thankful. Be kind. Be Funny. Etc.  This past Spring around the time of Hayley’s 19th birthday we started talking about tattoos.  She had met the all of the requirements for me to support a tattoo and keep her Dad from totally losing his shit.  She had to want the same tattoo for 3 years.  She had to have some college under her belt.  She had to be doing well in her classes.  She still wanted my heart rhythm on her wrist.  She kept asking me to get a print out and I kept “forgetting”.  I am not sure why I didn’t want her to do it.  I think I was uncomfortable with that amount of love being directed at me.  We talked about doing matching tattoos, a very small one.  I don’t have any and I am a big wimp.  We started Pinterest Boards.  We were looking at a minimalist wave.  We both loved the water, any body of water.   She asked me what phrase I would use to represent what I wanted to accomplish.  I said I would do “Be Present”.  Having just lost my job I had realized how little time I was present.  There was the next school to get to, the next goal to meet, the emails to return, the work that had to be done late into the evening.  I was not present for my kids.  I was there, always there, but not truly present.  She said you always say Be like the sign in the kitchen.  You usually end calls or talks with “Be Something”.  Be good, Be nice to your brother, Be on time, Be strong, Be confident…it was always a “Be” she said or “make good choices”.  So we talked about a tattoo on our wrists “Be…”.

The two weeks after we came home without her and before the service I was manic.  I was in a fog, numb and needed to be doing.  But then just as fast as I was busy I was sleeping.  I wanted her death to “be” meaningful.  I was learning more about how extraordinary her gifts to total strangers were.  I read the statistics.  I saw how many people die in our country every day waiting for an organ transplant.  I thought why can’t more people be like Hayley.  Bingo!  That was it hashtag (in my head I still call it a pound sign) be like Hayley was born.  Bracelets, we need them for the service.  I researched and reached out to a great company, they gave me such great service and made sure we got them on time.

She was so much more than just her donations.  I was starting to hear from people, many I didn’t know, about how she had touched their lives.  I knew the target market for organ donation awareness is teenagers.  Once someone checks “yes” on their first license they rarely will go back and change it to a no.  But I had worked with teens for the past five years, I have studied them.  Teenagers are about how does this impact me, what is my role, and they want a cause.  I had this idea of an awareness campaign, a foundation, and a movement.  It is a long term goal but I was totally obsessed with at least starting off prepared.  I used #belikehayley on the bracelets.  To engage teens and adults, I chose some of Hayley’s strongest qualities.  Be Kind, Be Funny, Be Real.  The next batch will probably say Be an organ donor.  I purchased the domain for Be Like Hayley.  I snagged the Instagram, Facebook, Gmail and Twitter for be like Hayley.  I needed to be prepared for when I was strong enough to move forward with these ideas.  It gave me a sense of purpose those weeks.  I was so proud of who she was and what she accomplished.  The bracelets were my tattoo, the reminders of what I needed to be.  Scott loved the bracelets and he never takes his off.  This made me feel really good.  He is the introvert in this relationship.  People know me.  He had a spectacular relationship with Hayley but bottom line she was all about Mom.  What makes him amazing is that he didn’t mind.  He had his Hayley time that did not include me.  It was all good.  So here is an example of a typical Dawn experience.  I hope that any tears today reading this post will be from giggling too hard.

The week prior to bringing Puppy Finn (@belikefinnthegolden on Instagram) home I had so much fun shopping for him.  I loved picking up little things for the kids.  I know Henry appreciates these little gifts in his own quiet 15 year old boy way.  But Hayley was always so thankful even if it just happen to be paperclips that matched her colors in her dorm bedding.  So I shopped for “the Puppy”, Scott had not told us the name yet.  To negotiate a yes, he got to pick the name.  I ordered some items off Amazon.  I asked the breeder what kind of food he was eating and picked that up at Mud Bay in addition to harness, treats, toys and balls!  I hope he likes tennis balls, our other dogs never would fetch.  Henry would love to have a dog that would fetch.  Just one that liked a few tosses here and there.  Not like my Brother’s dog that could fetch until he passed out from fatigue.

I went to Homegoods.  I finally had a reason!  They have several aisles of pet items.  I picked out a very cute basket made of rope, so he could chew that too.  More toys to go in the basket.  YES!  There is the  matching food container to the one we already had.  I could make labels!  “Adult Dog Food”  “Puppy Dog Food”  I can be easily entertained.  I got him a blanket.  I smiled.  Hayley had a blanket fetish.  I have to say I also participated in this hobby.  We were at the point where we would have to sneak them in so we didn’t get the lecture from Scott.  “For every new blanket you have to get rid of two old ones”.  She loved her blankets.  I want to point out that he enjoys using them right now, like a hug from her.  She had snuck one in right before surgery. She needed a recovery blanket, she said.  It was on her when she was in the hospital.  My thoughts wandered and tears threatened.  That is when I saw gates.  Several panels that would stand up for large openings.  Most of them were wood.  Puppy would love to chew on that and then he will knock it over.  But there was two of the same, pretty metal within the wood frames.  It would be pretty in the family room.  But did we really need it? Would it be long enough?  I will go home and measure and come back if it will work, I will not go overboard (um too late Dawn) and wait.

Second day of chasing the Puppy.  OMG, we need to do something.  I just want to stay in the family room and play with the puppy while I watched CNN.  I need to block that opening!  The sectional couch takes care of the other exit.  I need that gate.  Why didn’t I just buy it?  I know it is like Costco, you buy it when you see it cause every time it will be gone when you go back.  I picked Henry up from school.  I put him on  puppy duty and said I would be back in less than an hour.  Hardly.

I was in my usual uniform of sweats and pony tail.  No make up, why bother it runs down your face when you cry.  I don’t think I had showered, I was uncertain if I brushed my teeth, and I was sweating like a waterfall!  I find the emotions and grief really wreck havoc with my hormones.  So I strode in with a purpose.  I was so excited, for the first time in days I could sit in my recliner and not have to get up for like a whole 15 minutes!  I grabbed a cart and headed towards the gates.  This is where it starts.

There was my gate leaning up against the shelf.  Phew one is still there.  Hold up honey!  There squatted on the ground was a woman looking at the other gates while she had a deep discussion with clearly her Bestie.  My gate was at least 12 inches away from her.  It was not in a cart and no one had there hand on it.  This is where I should have been smart and fast.  I should have grabbed it, throw it in my cart and race to the check out.  But noooooooo.  I had to “Be Kind” like my bracelet said.  Is this your gate?  She snapped, “yes it is”.  Oh she didn’t have a bracelet.  She did not know it was Be Kind day.

Me:  “Really, are you sure?  It looks like you are still deciding.  This is the one I had my heart set on.  It is the only one that will work for my puppy’s.  (smile, chuckle a little) this gate is the only way I am going to get any rest and I am so tired”

Bitch: “I am buying them ALL”

Bitch #2: ” I will go get you a cart”

Me: ( a little surge of adrenaline hit me, oh it’s on) “Really cause it looks like you are still trying to decide”  “How about I wait here and if you don’t buy that one I will take it”  to bitch 2, “that is my cart”

Bitch 2:  ” I WASN’T going to take it”  Leaves in a huff.  Really cause you had your hands on it.

I stood there in the aisle.  I was in the “gate section”, otherwise known as their space.  Bitch 1 kept glaring at me.  Bitch 2 was very uncomfortable.

Hag 1:  ” I am taking all of these, you don’t have to wait”

Me:  “That is okay, I am just going to take a rest on this nice blue couch, maybe I will get lucky”  This is when I start typing in my group friend’s chat.  I tell them about the situation.  At this point I notice there are three gates laying on the shelf.  Not out where she was comparing the other 4 and my gate.  Well I have to have a gate.  So I invaded her space and grabbed all three, put them in my cart and then sat back on the blue couch to wait them out.

I had heard Ho 1 say that maybe the short ones would be better because it would match the ones she already has.  She must have a small dog.  Probably an ugly Rat Terrier or one of those hairless things.  It probably can’t even do “sit”.  So this is when I realize that I am moving away from the messages on my bracelet.

Ho 1 and Ho 2 whisper and load the remaining gates into their cart, I hear that they are going to take them over behind the framed art rows so they can lay them out and get a better look.  Clearly I was making them uncomfortable.  Good.

This is when my wheels really start turning.  I realized that she was full of shit, she wasn’t buying all of those, and she was not going to choose my gate.  She just didn’t want me to have it.  Wow, I think, that is not very kind or nice.  I truly believe that she is going to take that gate and dump it on another aisle, probably bedding or framed art and hide it.  Do you know how I know?  Because a friend and me would do the exact same thing.  At that moment as that thought rolled around in my head, I looked at my messenger app, there it said “well we would do the same thing”.  Jinx!

I was ready to admit defeat and see which one of the three I had would work.  Compared to my gate they were ugly.  I was so upset.  I went and picked a couple of dog toys to soothe myself.  There I see another low gate half hidden by toys.  Won’t work for me but pretty.  My messenger app was hopping like it was a party.  “You are not allowed to leave that store without that gate”  ” get the gate”  ” don’t let that bitch take your gate”  It seriously was like the cartoons where the angel sits on one shoulder and the devil on the other.  The angel says just get the ugly one and go home now while an hour has not past.  The therapist said that Henry needed us to be consistent and available.  I looked at my pound sign be like Hayley bracelet.  “Be Kind” too late I was already calling them names in my head.  “Be Real” okay I am going to do me.  I am smart.  I am going to Outwit, Outplay, Outlast these two assholes.  I wish I had a partner in crime, but I don’t, I am going to have to go it alone.

I am a Survivor fan, never missed an episode.  Hayley and I always watched it together.  Sometimes I caved and watched and she would find out.  She was scary when pissed.  This is the only show I watch every week.  Now I watch it with my cousin Sandy.  She lives in Vegas.  We record it and that night start it at the same time synching them up.  We let the commercials run so we can discuss what we saw on messenger.  She will be here next week and we can watch it in the same room!   So this felt sort of like a contestant looking for the idol.  You have to look like you are not looking for the idol.  So I am on the hunt for the gate.  I truly believe there is no way they were still in the store, we were approaching the end of hour one.  I was convinced that gate/idol was on one of the aisles.  I start on the right side of the store in the framed art.  I am hunting for my gate while I appear I am browsing the inspirational sayings art.  Oh look, a Winnie the Pooh quote, “you are braver than you think…”  Mind wanders, who was that directed at?  Must have been Piglet.  He was annoying.  Phone vibrates.  “Do you have the gate?”  “no”

“Dawn step up your game.  You and I both know they dumped that gate.  Find it”

” But I have to get home, I have been gone an hour and a half.”

“It is good for him to take care of the puppy.  Find your gate”

I move slowly towards sheets and towels.  I pick up a pack, discard it as if it was not the right size.  I circle to the other back corner.  Office supplies.  There are the pink metal desk sets Hayley and I got for her dorm desk.  Remember when she and I were here a year ago looking for the exact right things for her dorm room.  I was obsessed with it being perfect.  I was totally disappointed that her roommate did not want to match bedding.  Now I am crying in the back corner.  Trying to conceal it.  Through the haze of tears I spot the suspects with their gray roots showing.  They were browsing the dishes, holiday ones.  Good play.  That will waste a lot of time and look good.  She still has 5 gates in her cart.  I see mine.  I “happen” to cross their path.  “Oh Hi, you are still here.  Are you still planning on buying that gate?” “Really?  Oh darn, I will make do with these.  Hey I saw another one hidden on the toy aisle it is gray blue like the one you have there in the cart.”   I saw her eyes light up but she plays it cool.  I see my bracelet “Be funny”.  “Yeah, I bet someone hid it there so they could go home and measure and then come back for it.  Funny huh?”  Insert awkward laugh.  Okay, it was kind of funny.

I head towards the front of the store like I am heading to the cashier.  But I detour and find a comfy chair near the exit where I can observe the check out line.  I needed to see what was in that cart.  If my gate is not there then I know I need to stay and hunt it down.  If it is in the cart I must gracefully accept defeat.  I see my marks enter the line, but damnit, I can’t see their cart.  I am just going to have to “Be Real” and just go get in line and look.  About this time I see Hag 1 walking towards me carrying my gate!!!!  She is holding it on the side I was sitting so she didn’t see me.  She looked so smug.  I let her get past my chair.  I dramatically turn in my seat, “oh hey, are you not getting that gate!”.  I have never seen someone so obviously flustered.  She recovered quickly and with narrowed eyes said “Wow, I am so glad you are still here.  I was hoping I would find you”  Uh huh. “I am getting that blue gate you told me about”

“Terrific, hooray for us we are both happy, I am so glad I could find that for you”.        I take the gate from her, damn it is heavy.  I add it to my three other gates.  I head back towards the pet section where I put back the three I was hoarding. I head to the check out.  Shit, there they are at Cashier number one.  “ding, Cashier two is ready”.  I head down that way as they are moving towards the door.  Guess how many gates are in their cart?  ONE, just ONE fucking gate.  I am buying them all; Bullshit.  I can’t believe we were right, they were doing exactly what I thought they were and on top of that they ditched the other gates somewhere in the store!  Wow.  I was sort of impressed.

I head out with my prize and there they are in separate cars parked in the adjacent spots from me.  I know they notice I only have one gate in my cart.  I see that their mouths are gaping, one has her hands on her hips.  I load my gate with a flourish and climb into my Explorer and message “mission accomplished, I am the sole survivor”.  I made a little victory fist in my car as I drove off.

I get home and set it up.  An angry Henry says you were gone two hours!  Sorry Henry I had an adventure, I start to tell him the story because I would be on the phone to Hayley immediately to tell her how badly her mother behaved.  I think I got two sentences in and Henry said “Mom I really don’t care”, as he looks at the price sticker.  You spent a hundred bucks on this!  Yep and I bet you will all be thanking me in a couple of days.  But don’t tell dad, get the sticker off.  Scott walks in, “What is that?”  “Our Sanity” I say.  Henry says “Mom spent 100 bucks on it”.  Traitor.

Three days later as Scott and I relax in our reclining sectional, watching the puppy play with water bottles in his giant play pen.  Scott says, “I love that gate”   Me too.  Me too.

 

 

 

I made the mistake recently of searching grief on Pinterest.  Now Pinterest fills my feed with poems and quotes about grief.  Right beside the memes and barn doors I normally search.  This poem was right at the top.  It describes what one part of my day is like.  I could not have written it any better myself.

Silent Tears

Each day as evening starts to set

The ache builds in her chest

She knows that she must go to bed

And try to get some rest

She hugs her tearstained pillow close

When no one is around

And cries for one she loved and lost

And screams without a sound

Others see her in the day

And think she’s doing well

But every day as evening sets

She enters her own hell

Time hasn’t healed her pain at all

Or quieted her fears

So every night, alone in bed

She sheds those silent tears

~KP

I have mentioned my witching hours before.  When Hayley was an infant she would start screaming her head off at 4:00 p.m. every single day and continue to be the most unhappy baby on the planet.  Shortly after 7:00 p.m. it would just stop for no explainable reason and our little sunshine was back.  Nothing we did or didn’t do started it or stopped it.  It just was.  Just as we had done the first time she horrified us by having projectile poop, we rushed her to our pediatrician.  Just like when we told him something was broken in her digestive track, he told us this was something that happened to some infants and that she would outgrow it.  It was at this visit that after examining 4 month old Hayley he turned to us and said “you two are in for it, this one is going to be a handful”.  We looked at the little angel who was already sitting up on her own.  How do you know?  He said I have seen thousands of infants in my career and I can always predict which ones will be stubborn, outgoing and spirited.  He said watch this.  He showed her the shiny end of his stethoscope while also moving a popsicle stick with an Elmo sticker on it around in front of her.  No matter how hard he tried to distract her with the stick she would not give up on trying to get a hand on the stethoscope.  He explained, that single minded attention at 4 months was not average.  We found a new and even more wonderful pediatrician when we moved to the Eastside, but I have always wished that I had found him and told him how incredibly correct he was.

Ironically my witching hours start at the same time as baby Hayley.  When 4:00 rolls around I find myself starting to feel even more exhausted, emotional, tears come easily and the pain starts to ratchet up.  This goes on until I finally can go to sleep usually between 11:30 and 3:00.  My grief counselor helped me talk through why this time might be worse than others.  I didn’t miss her any more than every other minute during the day.  It is because as parents this late afternoon through bedtime, that is when we were truly “on duty” most of our children’s lives.  That was the time that we picked them up from daycare after work.  That was the time school and activities ended for the day and all the birds were back in the nest for dinner.  Of course as they get older sports, activities and friends kept them busy from the time they woke up until they went to sleep.  But still there is something about the sun setting and the world going dark that would make you hyper focused on your children.  When it is dark your parental instinct to protect increases.  Maybe it goes back to the days of the caveman.  Their children were probably more likely to be prey after dark.  It was a matter of physical survival to have them in the cave when the sun set.

Most recently Hayley would generally be coming home from work around that time.  I would be waiting for her in the front room and we would each take a red leather chair before she went to change her clothes.  She would tell me about her day and usually take the remote from me and change it from CNN to one of her many favorite shows.  Most of the time it was one of the reality shows about little people.  She loved them.  When she was at Western Washington University, she was always in her dorm room in the late afternoon.  I would always hear from her around 4:00 before she went to dinner.  As many of you have gathered Hayley and I were close.  Close in a way that is not generally the norm among teen daughters and their mothers.  Hayley would call me between classes to say hi.  We would face time when I was home.  Sometimes she would face time me from dinner or another activity so I could also say hi to her roommate or other friends.  We never went more than 2-4 hours without some type of communication.  I didn’t really notice this until it was gone.  I still find myself checking my phone.  I briefly think if I don’t respond quickly she will give me a hard time.  The messages are not there.  She had become an independent and wonderful student.  She didn’t need anything most of the time, we just had to communicate.  Prior to college we had never been away from each other for more than a week.  That week was one time when she went to Mexico with a friend’s family at the end of Freshman year.  She wasn’t a big lover of sleep overs.  She tried.  But I would always end up having to go get her at about midnight.  Once she could drive, she would say, bye I am going to a sleep over.  Both Scott and I would laugh at her and say “see you about 11”.  She would leave in a huff.  But always came home before midnight with a big smile on her face and threatening us not to say a word.  We would say, glad you are home, good night and love you more.  Sometimes I would poke her and say things like, nice try, maybe next time or did you forget your sleeping bag.  This girl was a homebody.  She went out, she socialized but she was very picky about it.  Her favorite place in the world was home.  Her second favorite place was her bed in her room with her dvr.

Let me tell you about one of the films that go through my head during the witching hours.  I am in that time right now as I write this. The films are a combination of thoughts, questions and images.  It has been 119 days since I had a conversation with her.  She was laying on my bathroom floor.  I had helped her shower on a stool and she had to crawl out of the shower and lay on the floor because of how badly she felt.  She knew Scott and I were exhausted.  She kept apologizing for being sick.  This made me mad at myself that she felt she needed to apologize.  I told her not to do that.  I snapped out of my stupor briefly to tell her that I absolutely adored her at all times.  When I put her to bed I sat on the stool on the side and held her hand.  I have a photo on my phone of my view at that moment; our hands, her washcloth covered face, her new bedding, the new artwork above her bed that said “HOME”.  She couldn’t handle having anyone lay on the bed.  Who would know that was her last night.  I will regret forever telling her to try to let us sleep.  To only call us if things got worse or she threw up.  I wish I had stayed with her for every last minute that she was conscious.  I wish that I had stayed that next night at the hospital and let Henry take care of himself and the dogs on his own.  But the room only had space for one of us to stay.  I felt safe.  I felt she was safe.  Scott needed to stay and watch over her.  She was in ICU, they now finally knew what was wrong and the best doctors would take care of her.  If it was a truly critical situation they would not have let me leave, right?  Someone would have told us.  One of the dogs had hurt himself that morning trying to get to the paramedics.  I needed to check on him.  I should have sat on a chair all night so that I was there when she woke and said over and over “Call Mom”.  I wasn’t there when she was the most scared.  I was not there when she left the conscious world.  When my friend and I got there, within in a handful of minutes, I watched her die.  I saw her naked body on the bed as a nurse performed chest compressions.  I screamed her name over and over as Scott restrained me from getting to her, the voice of reason, let them do their job.  I thought if she heard me and knew I was there everything would be okay.  I lost control of my bladder as I made animal sounds and kicked and scratched Scott to try to get to her.  I truly believe that she waited until I got there.  It happen so fast.  It was July 18th at 2:09 am.  I know this not because I looked at the clock, but because my pacemaker recorded the event for me to see in black and white.  I have a print out that shows my heart’s reaction to her leaving me.  It was 2:09 am.  If I fall asleep early it seems I always wake up around 2 am.  Once I am awake of course being 46 years old, I have to go pee.  When I go pee, I wake up more.  When I wake up and it is 2:00 am I am alone with my thoughts.  This is one of the most common reels that my mind plays for me at night.  Believe it or not there are some that are equally traumatizing.

I learned that you never take a day for granted.  You never assume that modern medicine is perfect.  The dog could have waited.  Henry could have gone to a friend’s.  But you know what, my mom was coming to town, I needed to clean up my house.  I knew I was going back to the hospital around 4 or 5 am in order to make sure I was there for rounds.  I knew I wouldn’t be coming home until she did so I felt the compulsive need to make sure everything was in order.  I felt it had to be me to do it right.  But I was wrong so wrong.  Our house is always a mess, cluttered.  None of that mattered.  In fact the dog was not fixable, hundreds of dollars in vet bills tells me this.  He continues to use only three of his legs most of the time.  He is a constant reminder of that day and what was going on when he hurt himself.  He sleeps at my feet every night or curled up against my back or the back of my knees.  When I have a sliver of my sense of humor surface I refer to him as “tripod”.

The witching hours are brutal.  But every minute of every day is difficult.  It is just that during the day there are times and activities that make it easier to hide the silent tears.  I hate to say this because I know you will read and be thinking, I have told her to call me any time, I told her we are here for her.  But honestly I am telling the truth when I say it does not even occur to me to call at these dark times.  I have this strong maybe misplaced desire to protect everyone from my pain.  I really like getting the texts, emails and messages of support.  Just knowing it is there is a life raft in a sea of tears.    I know I will eventually ask you for that support.  I can feel it coming as I become more and more weak.  Unable to control the emotion, unable to hide the pain and the rock in the pit of my stomach gets heavier.  There are a handful of people that I have chosen to bear some of the rock’s weight for me.  I know I can call and cry.  My bottom is when I say to them “I can’t do this”.  Sometimes I will say, “Henry doesn’t really need me”.  I am ashamed when I do.  I know he does, what I mean is he just won’t ever need me the way she did.  When I say I can’t do this, what a stupid thing to say.  What do I mean?  Am I going to leave, am I going to end the pain? No, Hayley would never forgive me.  So when I can’t do this, I mean I can’t bear this pain right now.  At that moment the rock is too heavy for me to carry.  I can no longer show my pain in front of Scott.  He can’t, he just can’t.  We are opposites in how we express ourselves, how we deal with emotion.  It hurts that I can’t, but if I am honest I couldn’t handle seeing him cry too.  I have witnessed his grief and it is unbearable.  It is like seeing my own pain reflected back at me.  They say the divorce rate is very high for couples that lose a child. I can understand.  Seeing your pain reflected back at you every day takes strength and commitment to navigate.

This past weekend I attended the Holiday Bazaar at our high school.  My oldest friend joined me.  She seems to know when she needs to come and give me a few hours.  She does this even though she lives 45 minutes away, works full time, has three kids and two dogs.  As we wandered the halls, the booths disguised the fact that I was at the school.  I volunteered a lot at the school.  I was there often manning tables at lunch.  Hayley would joke about how mortifying it was to see me at school.   I knew she lied because she always acknowledged me, she sat with me, she even asked for bathroom passes when she knew I was there.  On Saturday I stared at the student store.  She spent a semester there, her last semester senior year.  I was thrilled that she spent this time with another mom that I grew to admire and love.  Hayley was spending time around another strong female role model.  I would sit at my table and see her in the student store from my view.  On Saturday the store looked the same, the same woman was there waiting to hug me.  It felt surreal.  We ran into the school janitor.  She was someone I really got to know during my time hanging out at the school.  I know about her taking care of her ailing mom.  I knew when her mom was not going to make it.  Hayley always made a point to see her when many students don’t see the staff that keeps a school running, they blend into the background.  Hayley greeted her every day.  She was working Saturday.  I went to say Hi.  I could tell immediately from the tone of her greeting she did not know about Hayley.  I hugged her and while I held her I told her Hayley is gone.  She didn’t understand, she pulled away, I think briefly she thought I meant she was at college.  I had to say bluntly, Hayley died.  She immediately teared up and I had to go.  I felt bad, I had dropped a bomb on her and then left her to continue to do her job.  I told her I would seek her out in the next couple of weeks.  My friend and I continued.  I noticed on the walls above the lockers were framed photos of teams from over the years.  We were at 2011.  I almost frantically followed the frames until I found the one of the dance team 2012-2013, her freshman year.  There she was in the top row, fourth from the right.  I started to cry.  Many of the people that have reached out to me were there.  They seemed sincerely happy to see me.  I was surprised that I was happy to see them too.  For no other reason than I thought it would be awkward or when they say how are you, I wouldn’t know how to answer.  My advice is to always answer as honestly as you can.  Of course I don’t say in public with Christmas music overhead from the student band that I am barely surviving and am in the depths of hell.  But I don’t say the automatic “good” any more.  I might say Ok, but usually the honest answer is “as good as I can”.  Last week was constant crying.  That hour of hugs and greetings gave me a small shot of strength.  It reminded me that a lot of people care even when you feel so very alone.  Hugs are fuel.  I no longer pull away.  I have thrown the “rules” out the window.  I will hug as long as it feels ok.  If it gets weird I end it.

The rock I am carrying around is so very heavy right now.  It feels like it is growing every day.  Maybe I have been numb some of the first 119 days.  I know I was the first 4 weeks.  I got through a candlelight vigil, a memorial service with over 500 people, started a blog and a website, created a legacy for Hayley and put it on a bracelet.  I must have been numb because I cannot imagine doing any of those things right now.  Grief is all of the love you had for that person.  It is the love that has nowhere to go right now.  So it manifests itself into pain, guilt, regret, sadness, depression, anger, denial, anguish, headache, misery, sorrow, bleakness, darkness, agony, and bitterness.  All of these emotions form this heavy rock that makes your body feel so very heavy. You are exhausted carrying it around.  It has jagged edges.  If you are not careful, if you come upon a trigger of a memory those jagged points will cut you and make you cry.  So you move and navigate very carefully.  You withdrawal.  You isolate yourself.  I have spent many of these 119 days sitting on the couch as motionless as possible.  Hoping if I don’t think, if I don’t move, it won’t hurt.  I could do this because Scott was home.  He didn’t need to sit still, he needed to keep busy.  He could give rides and go to the store.  He has been my crutch.  Tomorrow he has to return to work.  I know he has so much anxiety about it, I feel helpless.  I feel guilty that I don’t have a job.  I don’t even have any prospects of a job.  My job right now is to keep breathing.  So I will have to move off the couch this week.  A new puppy a week ago has had me moving more than probably all the prior weeks combined.  So the rock is going to be jostled and tossed around.  I can only hope that it will be like rocks and glass in the ocean.  As items gets tossed around in the sea the jagged edges become smooth.  Smooth edges would really help.

I will end this post with another Hayley memory that just came to me as I was considering the Rock metaphor.  Remember where this started, the infant that didn’t sleep much and was stubborn.  That never changed.  She always has been unique and did things her way regardless of social norms.  She must have been about 18 months old when she found a rock in our Snoqualmie Ridge yard.  Trust me this was not hard as all of the land there was covered in rocks, making planting a yard a challenge.  The rock was about the size of her little hand.  Even then she had beautiful hands.  Not cute chubby toddler hands, but long graceful fingers and a firm, confident grip.  When it was time to go to bed, she didn’t want a special blanket or stuffed animal or even a toy.  She wanted her rock.  She went to sleep with a rock in her hand.  Just one.  Didn’t have to be the same rock.  She would bring them in and out of the house daily.  I was telling a coworker about her rock habit.  As a first time mother it drove me nuts to think of a dirty rock being in her clean crib with the clean sheet and her clean hands.  What if she put it in her mouth?  What if she got dirt in her mouth?  What if an animal had peed or crapped on that rock?  It was not like I could disinfect the rock every night.  We would try to talk her out of it but the tantrum that might trigger had us giving in very quickly.  I would try to sneak back into her room later and try to pry the rock out of her grip.  I gave this up when she would wake up and think it was morning cause why else would Mommy wake me up.  And those were long nights.  My coworker laughed.  I told her about the rock collection I had bought her.  It was a little plastic case with dividers that contained shiny, smooth, quartz and minerals.  They were labeled and were meant to encourage little geologists every where.  In fact that only got given away in the last 4 years.  I thought this would satisfy her rock fetish.  She suggested I give Hayley one of the shiny pretty rocks.  Nope, I can’t they can fit in a toilet paper tube.  She might swallow it while she slept.  About a week later she left a gift on my desk. It was a shiny, polished rock.  It was brown.  It kind of looked like petrified poop.  But it was the perfect size.  It was the exact size of Hayley’s little hand.  Plus, it could be cleaned!  Heck, it could go through the dishwasher.  I brought it home and presented Hayley with her brand new “night-night rock”.  She loved it.  It fit perfectly.  She slept holding that rock for many years.  I know that the rock is currently sitting in her jewelry box in her closet in her room.  I can only hope that my rock will fit in my hand some day.

 

I have not written in nearly a month.  Not because I didn’t want to, but it never seemed the right time.  I was making a commitment to go to bed early, take my evening medicines according to Doctor’s instructions and just being painfully exhausted.  The beginning of October was a huge challenge.  On Monday the 2nd the day was a roller coaster of horrible events, emotions both good and bad.  On that day, Hayley’s classmate, Ben, died.  On that day, so many people died in Las Vegas.  We thought about cancelling the Glassybaby event that evening but I am so glad we didn’t.  It ended up being a beautiful event.  It felt like an all female celebration for Hayley.  Moms everywhere.  We ended up selling over 350 “hayley” glassy babies.  Scott was there in the corner with a couple of our close friends.  I was an unintentional receiving line.  You wouldn’t think it was possible but it was more emotional than the original service.  This was intimate, these were people from all the phases of my life and I was not as numb as I had been on August 6th or as medicated.  I had been communicating with Ben and his Mom since Hayley’s death.  I wanted Ben to know how much Hayley admired his strength and how I believe that he helped her be so strong during her week of hell.  That same week Eastlake honored both Ben and Hayley at the Football Game.  Prior to the game with all the players lined up and the spectators standing, the six of us, the two families both missing a puzzle piece stood on the field together.  Henry does not like any attention right now and I know this was a hard thing for him to do.  He stood in the end zone and watched his school honor his sister.  If any of us had any kind of denial going on, this was in our face real.  The amazing couple that organized this honor, they did such a nice job.  It was more than the minute of silence we expected.  The words and Hayley and Ben’s photos on the scoreboard screen were heartfelt and just right.  It ended with both Hayley and Ben’s photos and legacy phrases.  “Be Like Hayley and Cush it to the Limit”.   We will support each other.  Strangers that share the ultimate pain.  It is like we are both missing the complimentary pieces to the puzzle of our families.  Their kids are 4 years older than ours, but the similarities are not lost on me.  Girl and then Boy, 4 years apart.  Married since college.  Husbands named Scott.  They are missing the Son and we are missing the Daughter.  What a cruel world this is.

That same week seem to go on forever.  Death and Love on Monday.  Honors and Football on Friday.  A Parade, a wedding on Saturday.  We were happy to witness the wedding of two wonderful people.  At the same time it was a very difficult time for me emotionally.  Hayley had been talking about this wedding for months.  She was so excited.  She talked about dress shopping with her new body.  It was the first wedding we would all be going to that the kids would remember.  Hayley joked about drinking and making Henry the designated driver.  I felt so outside of my own body.  I wanted to appear happy, I didn’t want to be the sad mom at the wedding.  I decided to have a couple of drinks to help, so one thing did go as planned, Henry was the designated driver.  Nothing like a permitted driver at night in downtown Seattle.  The table we were at had a missing seat.  Again, a day of happiness and sadness.

The second week included several lunch meetings with friends.  Talk of Scott’s return to work.  Homecoming week.  On Thursday I had my bi-annual sonogram of my legs.  In 2012 I survived a DVT, blood clot, in my leg shortly after ankle surgery.  Why did I survive a blood clot and she didn’t?  I now have it monitored twice a year by a vascular doctor.  I had the opportunity to see him and tell him what happened to Hayley.  He was shocked and appalled.  When I told him I believed that blame lied with the Issaquah Hospital, not only did he agree with me but he talked about how that hospital is only a transfer station and how he would not have left her there that long.  I know it was not his intention, but I walked away with my mom guilt suffocating me.  I barely made it to my car before screaming and crying.  I startled an elderly couple screaming Hayley’s name over and over.  I screamed until I was hoarse.  I failed my child.  She should have had a chance.  It was taken away from her because of the arrogance of a handful of specialists and incompetence of an entire hospital.   I should have known.  I should have made it all better.  Saturday was Homecoming.  Henry went with some friends but was reluctant to share his plans.  I found out there were “pictures” at all places the Bellevue Botanical Gardens.  This is where I have done most of my photo shoots of Hayley.  I felt left out.  I felt like he was shutting me out.  If he didn’t need me, what was my purpose?  When I confronted him, he thought I would embarrass him.  I went down the rabbit hole that night.  I passed my guilt along the way and kept going towards the bottom.  My son did not want me involved.  It became an out of control mess that night.  I was distraught, emotional and irrational.  I still feel bad that I subjected him to that. It was real and it was raw, but it was not his fault or his responsibility.  That next morning we had to drive to Mount Vernon and clear my in-law’s sold house.  We were in over our heads.  Scott had planned to spend time there earlier in the week taking loads but he ended up having to silver-sit his Mom at the same Hospital and a few rooms down from where Hayley lay and ultimately lost her life because of it.  I knew we were in over our head and sent an SOS.  They say you find out who you can count on when things are bad.  It is absolutely true.  The people that have stepped up, provided support and reached out have proved what they are made of.  This is the type of situation most people don’t want to face, it is too painful.  If they get involved they have to be able to go home and look at their own children and instead of seeing fear or guilt they need to see gratitude and love for them no matter what.  Not everyone can do that.  With the support of the person that is always there and my brother and sister in law, we actually accomplished what seemed like the impossible.

The third week was a new shit show.  Literally.  Scott had briefly annoyed me the previous week.  Long enough for me to check one thing off my to do list.  Scheduling his overdue Colonoscopy.  I have had three.  I have had three horrible experiences.  I am a little ashamed at the joy I felt when seeing his 2 liters of prep sitting on the counter.  I am also a little chagrined by how mad I was at the ease he rolled through the experience.  Since it was an afternoon appointment, he was able to split the prep between the evening and the morning.  This seem to make the cleanse not so violent.  Then when we get there, we find out he gets to be in the one unit that is able to use Propofol for the procedure instead of the usual conscious sedation.  This meant quick and easy wake up in recovery.  No hangover at all from the experience.  Just ready to go.  I know it was not kind, but I was super pissed.  It did not help when he said “I don’t know what you have complained about all these times, that was easy”.  By the next day I had developed a virus that gave me laryngitis and an ear infection for extra fun.  I was due to go to the Hood Canal Property of my friend to have some alone time.  I ended up going Friday with my friend joining me.  She left a night early, I was not much company since I could not talk at all.

The next week Scott came to the Hood Canal house and we traded places.  He spent the entire week there.  This made me the 6:45 am ride to school for Henry.  I am not a morning person.  This week I finally pulled Hayley’s laptop out of its spot in her room.  With my friends help I was able to get it signed in and learn to navigate a MAC.  Her photos, her messages, her schoolwork  stared back at me.  Her computer, her phone and her car were her most valued possessions.  All three are still waiting for her to return.  I am now able to sit in bed tonight with her laptop on her laptop tray and finally write again without sitting at my PC.  Henry came to say goodnight to me.  “Mom when did you get a MAC?” It’s Hayley’s.  He reached out and gently touched the stickers she placed on her cover.  It was a moment.

Now that you are caught up on my month I can talk about the biggest event.  Back in September a friend took me to Stanwood to visit a Golden Retriever Breeder and her farm.  She had a litter of 3 week old puppies and we were going to have puppy therapy.  A field trip to get me out of the house.  You really can’t be sad when you are holding puppies.  When Henry’s friend lost their Golden Retriever later that month, I took them to the farm for Puppy time.  They were 5 weeks old.  At 6 weeks I went back with another friend for Puppy time.  On the way home from working in Mount Vernon we all stopped to meet the puppies.  Scott was hooked.  At 7 weeks and some wine, Scott agreed to a fourth dog in the house.  I had a secret weapon, a card Hayley made me.  On my birthday last January, Hayley and I met half way between home and school for a mid week birthday dinner.  We shopped at the outlet mall, she bought me some earrings.  At dinner she gave me 15 “open when” cards.  She had hand written all of them.  They were sealed.  They said things like “open when you miss Dudley Dog”; “Open when you want a dog”; “open when you have a bad day at work”; “open when you don’t feel good”; “open with dad is being an asshole” and the heartbreaker, “open when you miss me”.   When she came home in June, she asked me how many I had opened.  Oh Shit, I had totally forgotten about the cards in my nightstand drawer.  “Oh honey, I have only opened a few, I am trying to make them last the whole year until my next birthday”.  I felt my pants on fire.  I have not opened the “open when you miss me”  or “open when you need to know how much I love you”.  I know that when I do I will collapse into a puddle of pain.  Thanks to Hayley we are now the proud owners of a 9 week old Golden Retriever Puppy named Finn.  

He came home on October 28th.  I thought  my friends would be the voice of reason.  How can I take care of a puppy when I can barely take care of myself?  Nope.  They thought it was a great idea.  They were worried about me not getting out of bed when Scott went back to work.  They are concerned by how little I move.  Well they were right.  I have barely sat down in 6 days.  I have not had more than 3 hours sleep in a row in 5 nights.  My knee and bad ankle are actually sore from getting up and down and going in and out.  It is hard to think about much else but his need to pee, poop, eat and sleep.  It is like having an infant.  Henry and Scott are both smitten and I feel like for the first time since the nightmare started the three of us have a project, something we are doing as a new family.  

The month ended on Halloween, Ben’s Birthday.  One of Hayley and Henry’s favorite holidays.  I always had parties for them and their friends.  I made Henry’s costumes most years.  They shared their twizzlers and peanut butter cups with me.  I have many boxes of decoration.  We have an inflatable yard pumpkin that has been in our yard every October for 14 years.  Not this year.  This year we bought no candy.  We turned the lights off and the pumpkin stayed in the garage with all the decorations.  No dog costumes.  The boys didn’t care.  I realized it was Hayley that appreciated my decorations.  It was Hayley that insisted we maintain traditions.  She knew it made me happy.

This past month I have learned what it means to have “triggers”.  Triggers have been everywhere.  They were at Ikea.  Hayley and I had been the week before surgery to get her a nightstand to match her high end bed and a ottoman for the dogs to get up on her bed.  Everywhere were reminders.  The one that left me in the maze of aisles in tears was the doll bed.  Hayley still has hers.  It lived on the side of her bed hidden from others, with the bedding I sewed for it and her dolls,  Susie and Sally.  She appreciated the emotional value of “things”.  When she was very young we made a tie blanket for my Grandmother that lived in Vegas.  That blanket was displayed on the back of her couch for many years until her death.  Hayley knew how thankful I was that she had gotten to know my Grandmother.  My Grandma was one of the most important people in my life.  She asked for the blanket.  It was always with her.  Vacations, College and home.  That is a trigger.  The Holiday decorations in Home Goods flipped the switch.  What was I going to do for the holidays?  Hayley loved our decorations like I did.  We always got a new one each year.  She remembered stories about them all.  We had ones from our mother/daughter travels.  An Ulta trip was a huge trigger.  I ran in quickly to get skin care products for Henry.  Holiday shit everywhere on fucking Halloween.  All of the great stocking stuffers that I would shop.  But I have no stocking to stuff with those items.  Waiting in line there on the counter were the new naked palettes.  Hayley was so good with eye make up.  She loved her eye shadows, the brand was naked.  They were always on her Christmas list.  I was standing in line waiting behind someone really high maintenance.  Hurry, Please, Hurry.  I want to make it out of here before I lose it.  Seriously, Bitch, you are going to witness a meltdown if you don’t pay and stop asking stupid questions.  By the time she left and I approached the cashier, I was already Ugly Crying.  I know it was an Ugly Cry, I could tell by the look of horror on this poor girl’s face.  “What is wrong, are you okay?”  Ugly Crying; “no I am not okay, my daughter died and this was her favorite store, please get me out of here” Snot, hiccup, tears running down my face.  She said I will get you out of here fast don’t worry.  She was the perfect example of professional and fast.  She even still got my rewards number out of me.  I made it to the car crying for Hayley and finding no kleenex only Drive Thru napkins.  They work.

Triggers are everywhere.  I get it now.  I saw a Psychiatrist the last month in addition to the weekly counseling sessions.  He explained my counselor would be there to help me with skills and he would be there to help me with pills.  Yes, he rhymed.  We did talk about PTSD.  I wasn’t in a war I said.  He said what you witnessed at 2 am on July 18th, that is your war.  In addition to depression and grief, we can add symptoms of PTSD.  How am I going to work?  How will I find a new job?  How do you go to an interview, “don’t worry I only cry 8-10 times a day, but hire me”.

 

 

I have not been writing not because I have nothing to say but because I have too much to say.  Today was one of my hardest days.  The most frustrating part is that there is not a particular reason.  It is not one of those “dates” we have to get past.  Maybe because it was one of the only days this week I didn’t have a lot scheduled.  Except actually I did, but I forgot to put the car detail appointment on my calendar.  So in spite of that, I felt like I could just do nothing today and as soon as I let that sink in, the pain and sadness was overwhelming.  I keep thinking I have had the worst days, that I have felt all of the feelings possible about losing my daughter, my person.  I am wrong every time.  I thought so many things in the past were also the worst.  Just in the last year I thought Hayley going to college and the dog dying the next day was the absolute worst.  I thought watching a friend die and watching her sister, mother, nieces and others grieve the loss of such a super funny and charismatic person was the worst.  Stacie lit up a room even on her bad days.  I think about my physical struggles this past winter with my Fibromyalgia and Heart issues and how that impacted my job. I thought that was the worst.  Then when I was unjustly fired in April, I thought for sure that was the worst experience ever.  I was wrong.

It was like the universe heard me, this is the worst thing that has ever happened to me and said “Really, Hold my beer.”.  When I think I have had the worst day.  “Really, Hold my beer”.

I miss Hayley every second of every day.  She was my heart and my soul.  As a daughter she provided the love I needed in a way that I could never expect from Henry.  Henry gives me just as much love and I adore him in a fierce momma bear way that drives the poor teenager insane.  I don’t expect him to ever replace Hayley.  It was the way she was built.  She held nothing back.  Not even when we wish she had.  She was loving, stronger than she knew, funny, real, kind and also not perfect.  She could be a really big Bitch.  She picked on her brother more times than I can count.  As she matured she would do or say something that made her an actual asshole.  But what was different this last couple of years was, first it happen less often and second because she was always willing to apologize.  Sometimes it was done in a sarcastic way, but you could never stay mad at her long.  She was so empathetic.  I think that is one of the reasons she liked reality TV shows.  She seem to always find a way to relate to the people that shared (or staged) their lives for us to watch.  A news story could bring her to tears and she would want and expect me to be able to find out how that person was doing weeks later.  She loved to watch videos of soldiers reuniting with their families.  Over and Over.  She cried every single time.  I would ask her why do you do that to yourself, she would say because it feels good.  She always chose quality over quantity when it came to friendships.  She didn’t care to be popular she wanted to be real.  She honestly told me she was too lazy to have tons of friends and that it was easier to just pick  a strong dozen that you could count on, that way it wouldn’t cut into her TV and sleep time.  She also didn’t discriminate when it came to friendships.  She didn’t need them to be her age or her gender.  She loved to hang out with me and Tamese.  She had a solid relationship with her teacher and friend Meghan.  It didn’t matter that we were all older and in positions of authority to her, we were her friends too.  She was in Meghan’s classroom the first day home in June to say hi.  She had been up to something in Meghan’s office.  When Meghan came back to set up her classroom in August for the new school year, she unpacked a small square framed chalkboard.  On it was a note.  “I fricken love Meghan Delaney so much! – Hayley”  Hayley strikes again.  I was actually surprised it didn’t say “fucking” but, see, I think there was some more thoughtful behavior happening after a year at college.

She made those lucky chosen people feel special and loved by her.  Even when she was annoying us she was still Hayley and it was okay.  What I have learned about my daughter over the last 10 weeks is that she had the uncanny ability to meet people where they needed.  She didn’t treat everyone she loved the same.  She was able to adapt to what was comfortable for them.  For example, her Dad is not much of a talker.  He is not interested in sitting and watching TV and talking for hours like we did.  He didn’t view chores and errands as fun.  Trust me if you have to go to the store, Costco, Target, Ulta, etc why does it have to be a chore.  Most of the time it is something you just have to do.  The household needs milk and toilet paper.  But for her and I it could be fun.  That Target dollar section is not going to clear itself out.  It was tradition to find displays involving initials and rearranging them on the shelf.  If you saw things like “Suck it” or “asshat” spelled out on the shelves of Target or Michaels it was probably us.  Sorry.  That last week in June we thought were trying to write messages on those mermaid pillows.  They are made out of double sided sequins of different colors, so when you swipe or in our case use your finger as a “pen”, it will create a swipe of opposite color or as we hoped, words.  Every single time we approached the display and would start with the letter F, a sales clerk would come over and ask if we needed help finding something.  I swear we circled the store and shopped shower curtains for a half of an hour waiting for our chance but that girl was always hovering around the mermaid pillows.  Clearly our idea was not original and she had designated herself the fun police.  I should probably go make that happen in Hayley’s honor.  But if Hayley and I went together and often with my friend and her daughter, it wasn’t a chore, it was an outing.  I wish I could take back all the times I cringed when she tagged along because I thought she should go play with people her own age or that I was a crutch from keeping her from being more social.  Every minute I spent with her is now treasured, it is all I have.  There will be no more errands that are outings.  They are all chores now.  Trust me Scott and Henry don’t appreciate the therapeutic value of the dollar section or a leisurely stroll around Homegoods hoping to find just the right treasure.  Some times she drove me bonkers.  Usually when she realized that she made a mistake coming with us and wanted to go home.  On those days she would follow me around like a negative cloud of mojo.  She would whine, how much longer, I want to go home, just like a sleepy toddler.  At Homegoods or Target she would be literally right on my heels breathing down my neck.  I would get so annoyed.  I would tell her to go find and bug Tamese.  Stop invading my space!  I went to Marshalls today to find some fatter clothes to wear to a wedding and of course I felt the pull of a quick run up the aisles in Homegoods.  That is something I could do for hours.  I didn’t even need to buy anything, it was the hunt and imagining of ideas.  Most of the time if I did buy anything it was for Hayley.  I felt coldness behind me without her on my heels.  Today it was absolutely awful.  It was not relaxing.  There was not that boost in serotonin I was used to feeling.  It was torturous.  I saw things everywhere that reminded me of Hayley.  Even if I saw something I liked, the first thought was would she like it.  If I brought home a purchase from this place, I always wanted to show her first.  Because trust me Scott and Henry could give two shits about my new collection of ceramic pigs with wings.  The week before her surgery when we were remodeling her bedroom we found the perfect framed sign at Homegoods.  It was vintage barn looking with metal letters, “HOME”.  It was hung over her bed.  Home was her favorite spot.

Today I told the men in my house that they had to go to the men’s store and get new pants and shirts to wear to the wedding this weekend.  I have no idea what I am going to wear but at least they will look sharp.  Henry whined because he would rather do anything else than shop.  He actually complained and questioned why he couldn’t just wear his suit from homecoming a year ago.  Wait, wasn’t he there two weeks ago at the doctor’s office when they said he had grown 4 inches in a year.  I said they won’t fit you.  He text back I haven’t even tried them on.  I then had to explain to him what happens when you grow 4 inches but the pants don’t.  Had he not seen images of the character Urkel? He might even be willing to eat bugs than to go shopping with me.  I decided to spare them both and just stay on the Plateau, go to Joseph A. Banks.  I had no energy for a mall.  This was done shortly before my failed Marshals/Homegoods trip.

We met Scott there as he had just had the pleasure (sarcasm) of spending another day in the hospital nearby dealing with his Mom and getting her home to assisted living which meant interaction with his Father.  (These relationships are a whole entire blog of their own)  I walked in and told the sharp dressed salesman that I needed pants for my son and my husband.  He asked me all kinds of questions about sizing and style and jackets and hems and omfg are you kidding me.   When he asked me Henry’s shirt size I said ” well in Van’s Clothes, a Large”.  I think he thought I was trying to be funny, I wasn’t.  I had them both in there, in the dressing room, pants marked to hem, a shirt each and new socks in under 15 minutes.  You’re welcome boys.  If Hayley had been with us, she would have made Henry smile.  She would have rolled her eyes at the plain gray shirt he chose and forced him be more fashion forward all while totally owning her baggy sweatpants and t-shirt look.  Scott would have asked her to pick out a shirt for him and he would have purchased the pink socks with Frenchie dogs on them just because she loved Frenchies.  Instead he thought the dogs looked like Xbox controllers.

She met Scott at his comfort level.  She watched TV with him and made fun of his choice of Ancient Aliens.  They never got tired of watching Harry Potter marathons for hours.  So many times.  I would say to them I bought you guys these on DVD, you know you can watch them without commercials.  I now look back and realize that it was just better and natural to watch the TV versions.  A set of commercials is just about the right length of time for a Scott conversation.  I am sure that many of their chats over the years took place in 90 second intervals.  I am so thankful that the two of them shared a day at Harry Potter land at Universal last April for her Birthday and Graduation.

I love to eat out.  I hate to cook.  I like the feeling that everyone is there in one place, no leaving until I pay the check so you are stuck having family time.  Scott hates it.  He reluctantly says yes about every 5 asks.  But Hayley had it figured out.  Often the way to get him to go out to eat was to suggest we go to the local Mexican restaurant.  He loves Mexican food.  Usually Henry and I ended up with upset stomachs, so we were happy for that to become their thing.  Daddy and Daughter dinners were at Mexican.  That was their time.  Henry and I happily stayed home with our gastrointestinal systems in tact. Scott refuses to step into that restaurant now.

Hayley would chauffeur Henry, that was their time to catch up.  At the start of the summer it was going to the grocery store together as they often complained I was trying to starve them.  She would let him drive with his permit even though she was not of supervising age.  They blasted dirty rap.  They thought they were so bad.  I knew.  They always came back talking and laughing.  Often fighting over which ice cream belonged to who.  But you see that was how she met Henry in his place.  She was not much into gaming or computers.  But she knew Henry loved a good unsupervised grocery store trip with my debit card.

I am sure her friends can think of ways that she did this with them.  I honestly don’t think she did it purposefully.  It was just who she was and remember she did not waste good TV time and sleep on too many people.

These are only a few of the reasons I am so sad all of the time.  Today was bone deep sadness.  The remarkable honor glassybaby bestowed on her with a votive named after her and chosen by us is winding down this week.  Monday there was an after hours event for friends to come pick up their hayleys and shop to benefit the organ procurement organization for our state.  On this same Monday a classmate of hers lost his battle with cancer, Las Vegas had a massacre and Tom Petty died.  I don’t put Tom Petty up there with Vegas or Ben’s death, but it was my brother’s first concert and many friends recently saw him in Seattle so I figured it deserved an honorable mention.  We thought about cancelling something fun on such a sad day, but I am glad we went on.  It was truly a store full of love and beauty.  Beautiful glass, beautiful women and just everyone being truly nice and enjoying each other’s company.  3 men and Scott even braved the conditions.  It felt a little like another memorial service for Hayley hosted by all the Moms.  Everyone wanted to talk to me.  There were girlfriends from High School, my HS boyfriend’s sister was there, and some people that I didn’t even recognize.  I was so exhausted.  I felt like I had ran miles.  Women that said they were not going to come, they just didn’t feel well, they ended up coming.  I think they were glad they did.  Some had puffy eyes like mine from crying for Ben, Hayley and strangers killed by a madman.  The store and the displays to honor Hayley were gorgeous.  I was truly surrounded by love.  But that afterglow only lasts so long.  I go days without having any important or deep conversations or connections with anyone.  People have almost stopped asking me to go to coffee or out with them.  So talking for two hours straight was mentally exhausting.  It was like I could feel all of the love people were sending me but I couldn’t keep it for the rest of the week.  It was fleeting.  That is what happens.  There is something that brings me out of my shell of misery for a chunk of time and then I am done.  I am almost more sad when it ends.  I used to have unlimited conversation and energy to give to others.  Now I have only enough to keep breathing.  So when I give it away it takes days to recover.

Under the Friday night lights is where I watched Hayley follow in my pom poms and dance at halftime and do fun teenage things.  Her Senior year that pleasure was stolen from our family.  Now that Henry is in Marching Band we are back.  I have only been to one game and it was utterly devastating.  I am going to need several doses of Friday Night Lights before it becomes more about Henry and less about Hayley.  Tonight the school is honoring Ben and Hayley at the start of the big community game, Skyline vs Eastlake.  This will follow our weekly counseling session.  I think it is going to be raw.  Henry does not want the attention.  I want everyone to remember her.  The more opportunities the better as far as I am concerned.  This may be selfish, but it is how I feel.  There won’t be time to recover Saturday, Salmon Days Parade and a wedding.  Sunday we have to clean out the in-laws sold house up North in Burlington in one day.  The one thing I am learning from this tragedy is how to ask for help.  Before, I couldn’t do it.  Now I know I can’t do without the help.  I sent an SOS to help us Sunday and I know we will be able to get it done.  I know it will be a great relief for Scott when that hurdle has been reached.

So I am going to take back what I said.  This is not the worst day.  This won’t be the worst weekend.  Mother Nature please send that memo to the Universe.  Because if he says again, “Really, Hold my beer.”; I will drink it.