Hayley's Mom

Friday, October 16, 2026

Continued and moved from the mini blog started on my Facebook page.

Delayed Day 7 Post, Lake Erie Solo Adventure, Wednesday, October 16^th

It has taken a couple of days to recover from Wednesday.  A lot like Tuesday, Day 7 felt like multiple days crammed into a 24-hour period.  Not on Purpose, it just unfolded that way.  That is what makes this an Adventure and not a Trip or a Vacation.  No set Itinerary, plan is fluid and the planning is having what you need to make changes.

On Day 6 I ended the post with “Tomorrow I am hoping to start heading back.  I would like to just beach hop all day until I drop again.”

I slept badly again Tuesday into Wednesday.  I had taken the solid nap Tuesday after Wendy left. I was awake early and packed up and was ready to go by 6:30 am.  I got in the car while it was still dark out. 

I have started using the Starbucks App to preorder breakfast.  The order is Bacon Gouda Sandwich, Pumpkin Spice latte, black Iced tea and two bottles of water.  While picking up my order there they were the famous “you are here” mugs.  When I posted the Ohio one, a friend reminded me not to use it as a weapon.  (Salt Lake City 2022, if you know, you know).  That made me laugh out loud.  They had New York and Niagara Falls.  I heard Scott in my head, “we do not need any more mugs, no mugs”.  That is hate speech.  I bought the mugs.

I then calculated how much gas I would need to make sure I rolled in to the rental car return on fumes, since I prepaid for a full tank.  This is when things started to go a bit off. 

First, not all cars have the little arrow by the gas icon that tells you what side the tank is on.  I guessed.  I guessed wrong.  I got back in the Car and made a U turn to the other side.  This is where the term “Directional Awareness” entered my brain. Because the tank was still on the wrong side.  I had to make a circle with an audience.  Zero Fucks given.  Nothing like Menopause Brain at 7 am East Coast Time. 

I entered Point Gratiot in Google Maps.  Asked Siri, to play my “New Dawn” Playlist and Off I went.  I was going to end the day at a Courtyard Marriot in Westlake, Ohio.  Just west of Cleveland Downtown and near Huntington Beach where I had the amazing find on Day 2.

The Guardians are in the MLB playoffs and have home games Thursday and Friday.  It was tough to find a place to stay.  The thing about this area is that compared to Washington State, it is very Flat. The roads are a grid.  Very few bends and winding roads.  The scenic byway is amazing. Leaving Niagara, it is clear I went the wrong direction.  Google Maps constantly re-routing me and giving me lots of route options had been the norm on this trip.  This part of the country has lots of roads. Grids.  Flat.   I had stopped stressing about following the route perfectly because it would always reroute me.  If I saw a pretty area, I would turn to look and felt confident that Google would get me back on the route eventually.

Travel Tip.  Directional Awareness is knowing without looking at the GPS what is North, West, East and South.  At a minimum know that to get to Cleveland from Niagara you generally want to be heading some version of East and you should take notice of that letter in the upper right corner of the screen.  In my defense, it is flat and the weather was heavily overcast.  Yes, I know the sun rises in the East and Sets in the West.  But that only works if you see it. 

After several reroutes and a suspicious excess of blue lines on the map going opposite directions, I realized I was going West.  Oops.  With Construction It took a significant chunk of time to get off the highway and back heading the general direction I needed to go.  I lost about an hour.  My time awareness on this day was dismal. 

After about 90 minutes of driving, I was so tired suddenly.  The pumpkin spice latte buzz had waned. I had estimated about 4 hours of actual driving.  I have been taking screenshots and jotting down names of beaches to visit along the route for a year.  I know I would not see them all.  I had written a few of the names on a hotel piece of paper back on Day 5 and had that on the seat.  I saw a sign with one of those names, Woodlawn, and veered out of the left lane to exit.  I figured a refreshing, windy walk on the beach would wake me up and allow me to stretch my legs.  It was another amazing and beautiful Park.  I was the only one there at first.  It was damp and windy.  There were Windmills and Turkey Vultures.  It looked like a place that would be a party in the Summer.  As I was walking the water’s edge, I noticed a gal way down the beach heading my way with purpose.  Clearly head down.  I felt a surge of adrenaline.  Competition!  I was moving slowly. She appeared to be moving with a purpose. I was getting anxious and annoyed.  Was she going to leapfrog me and walk MY line picking up all the treasures.  Beach combing Glass for me comes with a huge dose of FOMO.  Fear of Missing Out.  Or Fear of Missing a piece of Glass.  FOMG

As she approached, I said hi.  I feel strongly that beach combing is a solitary activity.  When I am with friends it is unspoken that we take different lines or directions and come together occasionally to do a “look at this” moment.  I am not here to make friends. (I made at least one every day so evidently that statement is untrue) I am here to tolerate my own company and find Beach Glass.  Because being me, just accomplishing the first thing is not enough for me.  I need the measurable data point at the end of the day in the form of a pile of rocks, glass and sand on the Hotel towel.  I have ended up collecting pounds of glass and at least one Friend a Day.  A stranger I connect with, exchange numbers and suggest they visit Sunshine Cottage.  Every one of my new friends has had a unique story.  This gal, Lynn, had a fanny pack and a well-worn Ziploc bag.  She and I connected immediately.  She gave me her baggie of Glass. She told me about the actual Ton of glass at her house that she has been collecting for 30 years.  She is a local.  Her sister was off in the distance.  She told me she is not a glass hunter but picks up Garbage.  She said it with a bit of a roll to her eyes.  Her sister joined us pulling a sled of garbage.  Lynn declared me her Glass Sister!  She also had taught me the term “Glasshole” when we were talking about the hunters that give our chosen sport a bad name.  Yes, it is a sport.  Sister rolled her eyes.

 “I would love to kidnap you and take you to my house to show you all my glass stoppers”.  I laughed and it reminded me of the beach with the Guy.  I asked if she drove a windowless van.  I am sure Lynn and I thought we were way funnier than her sister thought we were.  We talked for a long time.  They headed out.  For a long time, I walked and thought about texting her for her address and visiting her glass stoppers!  Her sister inspired me and I fished a Hayley Cause Bracelet Blue Star shaped Mylar balloon from the edge of the surf.  We called her our little star, and I remember presenting her with a little gold pendant shaped like a star for a recital.  Maybe a sign. 

This is where I think my directional awareness began to warp.  I left and headed to one of her suggested stops, Bennet Beach.  It was amazing!  I spent so much time here.  The sun came out.  There were hundreds of migrating Geese landing on this point.  Just waves and waves of them joining a large group of white gulls.  It was incredible.  I took so many videos.  I waited patiently for them to all get startled and to film hundreds launching into the sky.  I wondered if when they launched would it be chaos or the organized patterns I witnessed during the waves of landings.  I waited.  A long time.  This was clearly a rest stop and a town meeting of some sort.  The other end of the beach I saw an abandoned building.  My energy reserves were low, so I had no desire to walk closer, but I kept seeing the top of blue graffiti and my curiosity about what it said finally won. 

It required me to climb some jetty style rocks to see it.  When I did, I gasped.  The message left triggered a rush of emotion and a lot of ugly crying. 

I don’t believe in signs or that Hayley is with me floating along dropping sea glass for me to find.  Because if that is the case, she is being a bit bitchy about it and holding back some of the cool colors.  She has been making me work for it.  I was wearing my newly crowned beach combing skirt and a jacket.  The bottom of that skirt along with my Keens stayed wet all day.  Those are signs of a physical beach combing day.  Climbing, digging, bending over, getting in the waves. 

She did reward me with a beautiful piece where I stood rooted waiting for those fucking birds to take off.  Once a photographer always a photographer.  Capturing moments for others to enjoy and for me to remember is ingrained in my soul.  On the way back to the car, I found another Mylar balloon with Butterflies on it and grabbed that. 

At this point I was back on my route to Point Gratiot.  I had received a FB messenger from a fellow Lake Erie Glass Page member.  At first, I felt a bit chastised for posting in the group my location.  I get it.  Locals do not want to reveal their favorite spots because as she put it, the newbies ruin it.  Yikes, I am a newbie.  I quickly realized she was my kind of bitch.  She told me where to go at Point Gratiot.  When I arrived there the weather was turning bad.  Colder and very Windy.  My body was tired and sore.  I as running out of steam.  But this had been the reason I headed back towards Cleveland.  Because I enjoyed my first stop there so much.  I was the only one out there, others were packing up and heading out. The lake was angry and it was about 3:30. 

In my heart, brain and soul, I am a younger and fit woman.  I can do hard things.  I am a 55-year-old Menopausal woman with chronic health issues, on medication, Positional vertigo, an autoimmune disease, Fibromyalgia, IBS, a pacemaker, a bum ankle and balance issues.  I have had 13 surgeries. Most of my pain is not obvious.  Grief drains your energy.  Relationship issues drain your motivation.  For me Pain is constant.  I don’t know any other way.  So, I can sit or I can get the fuck up.

I started the hike.  I immediately doubted my ability to do this.  But I needed to do this, needed to prove I can do hard things, that I am not flawed or a burden to others, Amy said it would be worth it.  Did I mention Stubborn and competitive?

My blood pressure was clearly low.  I had forgotten my water.  When I would bend over to pick up a piece of glass my fingers would land an inch to the side, my contacts were dry from the wind, my balance was crap, I had a raging headache, and I had to Pee again.  Did I mention it was windy and cold, and I was wearing a skirt. 

I made it to the spot.  Exhausted.  I left my gear in one spot; I just couldn’t carry anything and bend over.  I quickly found pieces that made me smile.  For real on a beach on Lake Erie with nobody to see, stupid grin on my face and a raging headache.  Probably dehydrated too.  Soon Two Fishermen joined me from the other direction.  They were dressed like we do on our Coast.  Full gear.  They looked at me with my cute orange tote and skirt and probably thought WTF.  I stayed a safe distance away.  I figured a serial killer would not be coming out to fish on the lake on a story evening with the hope that some middle-aged woman made herself easy bait.  But I was not taking chances.  I kept finding treasures.  But I knew I needed to begin the hike back.  I was having real anxiety about making it back period, not just making it back before dark.  I had contingency plans in my head.  Which of those houses look occupied.  Will my apple watch hear “Siri, Call 911” over the wind noise.  After sitting several times, I started the hustle back.  Trying desperately not to look down, shoulders back, spine straight.  But it was like Hayley was laying a bread crumb of my favorite color glass all the way back to the car.  I zig zagged and bent over often.  The entire time thinking you still have about an hour drive, get moving idiot.  Everything hurt.  My knees hurt.  I thought about finding a target to get a heating pad.  Was I even going to be able to walk on a beach the next day.  Did I even care?  This had been my most epic haul.  Should I send Amy a gift card?  Would that be weird?  If I made myself sick or tripped, my friends and family are going to be pissed, and they would totally have every right to be.  I could hear my “solo trip phones a friend’s” voice. I knew exactly what he would say to me about this choice.  I also knew without a doubt that he would totally understand why I had done it.

As the parking lot came into sight I turned around and saw the most beautiful sky and sunset.  I had zero doubts that it was a sign. The light was streaming through two bright holes in the clouds.  The camera did not do it justice.  It was like the heavens opened and were shining down on where I had been to show me how far I had come.  I needed it.  I was too exhausted and dehydrated to tear up.

When I made it to the car, I felt a bone deep sense of relief and accomplishment.  It was difficult to balance to get my Sand filled Keens off.  I didn’t take the time to change my wet skirt.  It was almost dark.  I was in pain. 

I plugged in the hotel information into the GPS.  Wait, What????  I figured I had about an hour to go maybe more with Cleveland Traffic.  It said that this Courtyard Marriott was 2 hours and 45 minutes away from my location.  I must have entered the wrong one.  I found my confirmation in my email and confirmed it was the same address.  Wait.  I must have booked the wrong one, I am only about an hour out.  I truly felt dumbfounded. 

I sat there trying to make the GPS say something different.  I finally just started driving.  I phoned a friend in Minnesota; this was going to be a long difficult drive.  I just wanted a hot shower and sleep.  This time instead of a scenic byway I was being routed on a major two-lane divided highway full of huge Semi Trucks.  It was like I had missed the sign that said this was a highway for Semi Trucks to Haul Ass while we were all sleeping.  Scott tracks my phone and an air tag in my bag when I am on adventures.  He had messaged me, “just keep driving on I-90 until you get home”.

I told Leah, I was so disoriented.  While on the phone we realized that I was still…wait for it…in the state of NEW YORK.  I thought I was past Erie and into Ohio.  All the beaches had run together and where I was completely Lost.  Except, McCutcheons don’t get Lost, we Tour.  One of Scott and my first trips back in 1990 was to visit my grandma in Southern California.  We were not even dating yet.  We rented a Convertible and drove around LA and Hollywood.  No GPS, just a map.  We agreed that we would not say we were “lost”, but that we were “touring”.  Even then I was finding ways to ease his anxiety, make things fun, control the narrative. 

I kept saying loudly to Leah “I am still in fucking New York”.  We talked through contingency plans.  We laughed.  We said this is a “total Dawn thing” if ever there was one.  I asked her to update the group chat for me, I had noticed I was getting hit with “where are you?” “Check in, are you at the hotel yet?”  “What time is it there?” “Bitch, are you alive?”

Catching up with Leah killed over an hour of the drive.  At that point my hands ached, my tailbone was shooting pain up my back, my knees ached and the wet skirt was an issue.  Would I need to stop at a trucker place to dig out my glasses and rid myself of my dry contacts?  I really did not want to do that.

These trucks were on all sides.  There were only a few of us cars amongst Trucks in front and behind as far as I could see.  Speed limits were being exceeded, 75 miles per hour.  Anything under 70 felt unsafe as you would get boxed in or get a tailgating semi.  I was white knuckling it.  Fear was real.  This is one of the few times I questioned this entire trip.  I thought about how much I hate driving, unless it is pretty and I am touring.  I thought about how nice it would be to have a partner or a friend to drive me.  Was there someone with my flexibility that would drive Ms. Dawn, drop me off at beaches and leave me alone.  Pick me back up and drive me to different towns, let me snore in the car, let me control the playlist and sleep in a different room so I could still enjoy the Hotel Time I love.  That sounded like a fucking Husband.  I had one of those and it is not working out.  He never wanted to do the same. It has always been okay with me.  He doesn’t stop me from having adventures.  I always thought it was a healthy thing that we have separate interests.  Until it wasn’t.  I am lonely.  I have amazing friends that I consider my family.  Ones that do take adventures with me.  Those friends have spouses that have tolerate my company and I never minded being a third wheel.  But now.  It matters.  Sara and I have a list of places we want to travel to.  But there is an asterisk on many of the entries. *These are the places her husband wants to visit. Those are Nick trips.  Not Dawn trips.  I am not complaining, there are plenty of Dawn Trips on that list.  One took place in July and has been a turning point in my life.  I am truly lucky to have these family/friends (Friendlys) that will do fun things with me.  A lifetime of concerts. 

But I want someone that wants to be with me.  That would go look for glass on beaches in random places because they want to be near me.  They enjoy my company.  They remind me to hydrate and eat. That don’t care if the plan changes four times in one day.  That want to do trips that are both well planned but also spontaneous.  They don’t have to sleep in the same hotel room as me.  Even Sara and I get sick of sharing a room after a few days.  They must like driving the car and lifting my heavy luggage without bitching about overpacking.  Without complaining that the rocks I am bringing back to tumble look exactly like the ones I already have.  That won’t say if it hurts don’t do it.  They appreciate the little things I do to make travel easier. That I can listen to me repeat the same story three times.  That don’t get annoyed when I misplace my phone or can’t find it in my bag 10 times a day.  Someone that can entertain and take care of themselves.  It is not dating or a spouse.  That is way too much to ask for and complicates things.  Too much baggage.  I pack enough already on my own.  Is there an app for this?

When I finally arrived at the Courtyard Marriott, I was immediately anxious.  This does not look like the suburban location I had in mind.  It feels like an industrial park and the restaurants nearby are all out of business.  Long story short it is a dump.  I assumed based on the price of $300 a night that it would be decent, not fancy, but not a Motel 6 with a magic fingers bed and unknown stains.  I didn’t consider that the price reflected dynamic pricing.  I understood I could not go back to my first hotel with the MLB playoffs in town.  I understood that I had limited choices.  But it was a brand I was familiar with and was not planning to do anything but sleep and shower in this room. 

I was taken aback that arriving and hanging out in the lobby drinking was clearly a group of business colleagues in town for a meeting or convention.  I recognized it.  I live that life.  After seeing my room, I wanted to know what company sent their employees to a dump like this.  Clearly a company that didn’t like them that much.  The room has not been updated, the shower had cracks and rust, I chose to shower with my sandy and dirty flip flops on.  The room didn’t feel dirty, but it felt worn and sad.  It was the first floor.  One wall was windows that did not lock well looking out at the parking lot.  They could easily be entered.  I could do it.  My birdie alarm wouldn’t attach to the window.  What is that stain on the popcorn ceiling.  Did they open this hotel just to capture the baseball game visitor overflows?  How much did I pay?  The black out curtains hang half off the rail.  The towels are worn and rough.  The bed is not awful, what the mattress lacks they made up for with extra pillows.  The hallway carpet was pulling away from the floor like it had bee flooded recently.  The indoor pool located right off the lobby had a jacuzzi covered in what looked like yellow police tape.  Don’t get me started on the toilet paper.  The TV was so small I could not read the guide from the bed.  Not a smart TV.  The doors are thin and the lock feels loose.  The real fear of being one leg over a windowsill into the room was balanced with being ten rooms from the front desk.

I didn’t sleep well.  It had been 15 hours door to door that day.  Three states.  Poor Directional Awareness.  New friends.  Pain.  Feeling Strong while also feeling weak.  Finally understanding the compliments, I receive about being brave to have this kind of adventure. 

I don’t regret the extra days or the change of Cities.  This adventure is providing what I need and giving me information to improve the next one.  I realize I can’t become a seasoned traveler without getting out of the house. 

Many of you may have noticed or not, that I have not updated my grief blog for a long time. It is not because I am not challenged to breathe every single day. It is not because I don’t want to share my journey. The feedback that the blog helps others understand how to support their friends dealing with grief has given me a purpose. I am still writing, just not posting. I will. But this past year has been too sad for everyone. Life has not been “normal” for anyone. People are dying every day and families struggle to feed their kids for the first time in their lives. I feel strongly that my grief, trauma, and sadness is just not appropriate or helpful to share right now. We all have enough to be sad about.Grief has manifested for so many of us to define more than just the death of a loved one. Remember that. We are grieving our loss of “normal”. We are grieving friendships lost due to a difference in politics. We are grieving the loss of trust in our leaders, both sides. We are grieving the loss of traditions. Grief of missing our family members that we can’t see right now. Grieving the challenges of raising children during such stressful times. We are grieving the loss of our jobs. Some are grieving the loss of financial security or our ability to feed our families. Finally there are hundreds of thousands of people that have died from Covid, lives cut short. Regardless of their age, their loved ones grief for the years they have lost. That is a lot of grieving people.I do want to share a couple of tips when dealing with a grieving person. It is okay if you disagree. If you have read the blog some of this will be reminders but some will be new. This is only MY opinion and mostly based on my experience, a lot of it recent. But it could apply to so many right now. Statistically we know it does.I will start with what I know best, the loss of your child. But it applies to all deaths. Never say “I understand how you feel”. Unless you have experienced their exact situation you do not have that right to say that. I have been told more than once and even recently. “I know how you feel I have two daughters.” NO! Unless you have lost a child, never say that to a parent that has. You may mean that you can only imagine. But that is not what you said. When you say something like that you are minimizing their grief and the trauma of losing their child. Not okay. Second, specific to the loss of a child, please never imply that it has been long enough for the parent to be doing better. NO! Every grief journey is different. I know for sure that every single parent that loses a child will never be OK again. They may learn to cope better. But they are not OK. Your child dying before you is just too unnatural in the scheme of life. It is okay to ask, how long it has been since the death, but please be so careful with your words. It is easy to say something that implies they should be doing better. Trust me they are already thinking that and beating themselves up. Professionals and armchair psychologists seem to have put a timeline on grief. That once you have experience each of the formal stages of grief, you are done, you can’t play the grief card anymore. So wrong in so many ways. Would your child cease to exist in your heart and mind after their death? Please do not ask if it is getting easier, it implies it should be. Please just offer your support. “I know this will never be OK. I know you don’t always show your pain, but I know it is there. Please know I am here if you need to talk or just need me to sit (socially distanced) with you. You are not alone”.All of the above advice applies to any death. My mother in law died of Covid. The first question is always. “I am sorry. How old was she?” 85. Admit it we have all thought well at least they had a long life. No, to their family they didn’t. Without Covid, maybe they would have lived to 90. In that time they would have met new great grandchildren, watch grandchildren graduate from college, celebrate life events of the people they loved and the people that they are responsible for creating. At the time of her death, my MIL was enjoying her days. Stop thinking that age should drive at what level we grieve. Every person’s journey is different. When a preventable death happens it is never okay. Would it have been easier if Hayley had been 50 and me 77? No it would not, would I be thankful that I had 50 years instead of 19 with this amazing human I created? Absolutely. I would even be thankful that I would have less years to have to live without her.Grief is Grief. There is not a set path. There is not a timeline. It is never okay to minimize someone’s grief. It is okay to be thankful it is not happening to you. There should be no guilt to feel that way. I would never wish this upon anyone. Don’t forget that in 2020 and 2021, grief has expanded, it no longer has just one meaning. It is okay to feel non-traditional grief right now. Do not compare it to others. It is nearly impossible to be thankful right now for what you do have, but I bet we are all feeling that right now. If Hayley’s life and death made a positive difference in how you live your life, that is a blessing.

Again, Scott is not chatty tonight. I did get lots of friend time in today. Two of my more spontaneous friends with short notice went to Boehms Candy in Issaquah with me to support a local flower family. We got gorgeous custom farm to vase bouquets for 20 bucks. I figured if I was getting myself flowers for my anniversary I must get chocolate too. We then sat socially distanced in a lovely shady garden and ate hand dipped Ice Cream bars rolled in almonds. For you local folks, you can support New Garden Farms on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays, 9:30-3:00 in the Boehms Parking lot in Issaquaqh. You can then very safely support Boehms. For more information on New Gardens click here.

I was telling Scott that people seem to really like my Amazon Review Post. I asked him what I should review next. Several inappropriate suggestions were made. One did stick with me; Toilet Paper. I thought about it and decided, why not? It is a pandemic related topic. It truly is a first world issue, but I do live in one of the wealthiest communitys in the Nation, Sammamish, so it seems fitting. This is my Pandemic Toilet Paper story.

In January, when I still had a job with a non-profit that shall not be named, I was scheduled to attend a conference in Orlando during my Birthday week. I knew that there was no way I could fly across the country and NOT go to Disneyworld. Hayley would be ashamed of me. But everyone I asked did not want to fly that far for Mickey Mouse. But another spontaneous friend now lives in Boston, it was worth a try. I was surprised when she said an enthusiastic “Yes”. She has been one of my biggest supporters this past three years in spite of the fact we were not friends before Hayley’s death. We knew each other’s names because our boys were in the same grade. Shay organized a troop of women that first December to come decorate our house. Besides kind, she is very funny! We discussed sharing a hotel room or getting our own. I am not sure if we had even gone out to lunch together ever. But we agreed to go for it, all in. We agreed worse case scenario we won’t be compatible and agreed to be honest if we annoyed each other. Plus we could do anything for three days. This is what a good sport Shay was. I suggested we have matching outfits for our two days at Disney. I offered to plan it. I had hats embroidered that said “Dawn and Shay do Disney 2020”. Found a Disney shirt that said “Made in the Seventies”, we were 1970 and 1971 babies. I also got us two shirts from Etsy that said “I am done adulting, I am going to Disney”. I had Birthday themed Ears. We arrived on the same day, by bedtime we were not sick of each other yet, so we had that going for us. We spent two days at Disney during a record breaking cold front. In fact it was so cold that Iguanas would lose consciousness and fall out of trees. We were super disappointed only to witness this phenomenon on the local news. We waited in line at 6 am to get tickets for the brand new Star Wars ride. Totally worth it by the way, best ride ever. I was sad when she flew home and the conference started. On my birthday my Mom drove from her home on the west coast of Florida and decorated the hotel room. I don’t remember the last time I spent my actual birth date with my mother. She had been really sick in January including laryngitis up until a week before. She had also surprised me by saying yes when I suggested she drive over and go to Harry Potter Land with me at Universal Studio. She doesn’t do rides or amusement parks. She clearly needed to get out of her house. After the conference we moved hotels, I had already started to feel bad. I was losing my voice and felt like shit. We powered through. Guess who wanted to keep going on the new Harry Potter motion ride and roller coaster? My mother! She surprised herself. We didn’t go so far as buying the Hogwarts robes they sell but we had a great time. I was getting sicker. I was due to fly home on a Tuesday night. On Monday I asked Scott to please make me a doctor’s appointment for first thing Wednesday morning. I flew home on January 28th. At that point, Mom and I had seen a story on the news about a powerful virus spreading in a province in China. In fact while heading home the first case was found in Washington State. We should have known. A freeze in Florida, falling Iguanas, grown women doing Disney and Universal without kids, my Mom riding roller coasters; me super sick on vacation, we just should have known that 2020 was taking a turn.

When I went to the doctor I had lost my voice completely, Scott seem to think this was not a bad thing. She said I had a throat infection, two ear infections and a sinus infections. She tested me for the flu, negative. I mentioned this new virus I heard about. She said that she had been reading everything she could find on it. I asked about testing. She suggested I not get testing, but ordered me to quarantine myself for 2 weeks. At that point testing was only available through the CDC. She said it was not going well and by the time the results came back she was sure I would no longer even be sick. She gave me a week’s worth of drugs. Cough syrup with Codeine, antibiotics, ear drops and a prescription decongestant. I took my stash and happily made myself a home with the dogs in the master bedroom. I told Scott about the quarantine orders. He anxiously asked if I would be okay if he slept in Hayley’s room so that my cough didn’t keep him awake. That is so cute, he was worried I needed him. I pretended to be sad and reluctant, but really I was super happy. The dogs could all sleep on his side, I could watch what and how much TV I wanted, hello, King bed to myself! After a week I was worse. I got a chest x-ray and some more antibiotics. That was the sickest I can ever remember being. Two weeks without being able to talk! Just as I felt like I was turning the corner I got a call on a Friday that I needed to have my pacemaker replaced the next Wednesday. WTF? I explained that I still had a cough. Not a good thing when you are having surgery not on full anesthesia. They had a solution for that and were not willing to postpone. They don’t like it when your battery runs out. I went back to work less than a week after the surgery. Thank goodness it didn’t get postponed even a day as most surgical rooms were shut down by the second week in February. Again, I should have known. Iguanas, laryngitis, and a dead battery. 2020 had arrived.

For those that can remember this far back but February/March was about the time people started to freak out. Most corporations moved to remote offices by the end of the first week in March, schools began to close. Trump said there were only 15 people that were sick, don’t worry he said. We REALLY should have known the minute “China Virus” came out of his mouth. So here is where we move into first world problems. People were going nuts at Costco and Grocery Stores. If you live in the Northwest it was like when we are predicted to get an inch of snow. People lost their minds. Instead of buying all the wine, milk and bread; it was wine, milk, bread and TOILET PAPER. I made fun of those people.

In January, before Orlando, we had a big first world problem in my household. I always buy my toilet paper at Costco, but I had not been that month because work was so busy. We got down to our last roll of paper. We have three bathrooms and the three of us each use a different one. We would have to hunt the roll down. We argued over the roll. We used Kleenex. This is when I learned the awesomeness of Costco Online. If I ordered $75 dollars I would get free two day shipping. Seriously? I never get out of Costco under a hundred bucks, who does? If YOU do, you have issues and we might not be able to be friends. I was able to order a hundred dollars of our toilet paper and it arrived the day I left for Orlando, everyone was happy. God forbid one of these two men would have to go to the store. I vowed we would never run the toilet paper down that low again. So when March hit and the great Toilet Paper insanity started, I was very smug admiring my two huge packs of Charmin, the good stuff. I thought about sharing with some friends, but nope I am not that nice and this was now labeled a Global Pandemic and the McCutcheons would not run out of toilet paper. (did I mention this is a first world problems article?)

Do you have interactions from your past that you just have never forgotten? Things that are not even very important but for some reason they stuck with you and always remind you of that person. Let me give you an example; when I was 20 and attending UW, I was a teller at Washington Mutual. I loved my supervisor, Jill. She was amazing. So funny, big personality, she was over six feet tall with coke bottle glasses. One day during a break in the conference room I was reading a Cosmopolitan Magazine. For you younger folks, a magazine is like a cross between a book and a newspaper. You had to wait every week or month for it to arrive in the real mail. Instead of subscriptions to Spotify, most young women had a subscription to Cosmo. It was a guilty pleasure. We passed it around the Sorority like it was illegal. The entire purpose of the magazine was to make women feel like shit about themselves. The magazines intentions besides advertising every beauty product made, was to tell you how to dress, how to do hair and make up, but most of all how to catch a man and keep him satisfied if you know what I mean. The best part of Cosmo was the monthly Quiz. Topics like, “Are you enough of a bad girl?” “Can you keep him intrigued?” “Is he thinking fling or long-term?”. We are not talking the height of feminism. So there I sit on break reading my issue when Jill walks in and joins me. She said “anything good in there?”. I said I was currently reading an article about how to deal with unwanted hair in unwanted places. Waxing was not really main stream at that point in history. She said “what does it say about nipple hair?”. I did a double take. “WTF, you get hair there?” Jill said “honey you have no idea, you just wait until you are over 30”. I was like ooookkkkaaay, whatever, I will never have nipple hair. So now when plucking my nipple hairs as that 1991 Cosmo suggested, I always think of Jill. Every single time.

Another one of these memories stuck in my brain was an incident with my Dad around 1996. My Dad and I had a complicated relationship over the years. He was not always the easiest to deal with. At this point he had recently married an employee of his that was my age. We were on the outs. Scott and I were married, we had bought our first house in Federal Way, we were trying to get pregnant, and we now shopped at Costco like real adults. We were in Costco near our house when we turned down an aisle and ran smack into my Dad and his wife. Just the fact that this Costco was not close to where they lived and we were on the same aisle, on the same day and the same time was weird enough to stick in my brain. It was very awkward, Scott was not a fan of my Dad. My Dad not knowing what to say, noticed that we both had packs of Toilet Paper in our carts. He made the sarcastic comment, “Oh you two must be doing well, you buy the expensive stuff”. We had Charmin in our cart, they had Kirkland Signature. Of course Scott nudged me because we had recently had a “discussion” about me insisting on the more costly Charmin. Clearly I had prevailed and it was never mentioned again. To this day nearly 25 years later, 14 years since my Dad passed, I cannot buy toilet paper without thinking of that interaction and my Dad. Yes, I have always bought the Charmin. My kids have never in their own home had anything but the Charmin Ultra Soft touching their behinds. Scott learned to pick his battles.

Now that you have been caught up and heard some new relevant stories I can get down to my Pandemic Review. Today I am reviewing Charmin Toilet Paper. By April I was still feeling a bit smug and a little guilty that I had an unintentional hoard of Toilet Paper. Here we sat on our soft white cotton thrones while we watched YouTube videos of people actually having physical fights over the last package of TP in Costco and grocery stores. It wasn’t even Charmin. By May I was getting a little worried. I had promised the men that I would not let them down, I would keep them stocked with toilet paper no matter what. We may not have had Clorox Wipes, but we were going to have toilet paper. I expected them to heap praise on me and express their gratitude. Newsflash, that did not happen. In May I had an 18th pandemic birthday to plan and our stash was starting to run low. Scott would ask if he should buy some at Albertsons on his way home from work where he bought wine. I said only if the brand is Charmin. I think he hurt himself rolling his eyes. Costco had let me down months before with none available online. I was not willing to risk Covid by fighting over it in person at the local Costco when it was just luck of the draw if you were there when they put the pallet out. There has to be people out there that will have toilet paper to use until 2030. I lost track of how many times a day I would check the Costco app to see if it was in stock. I honestly expected the app to have a pop up box that said “Get a Life, we don’t have any fucking toilet paper”. I was also checking Amazon daily, but I was not quite to the point of being a victim of price gouging. Let me go ahead and add now that neither Scott or Henry could care less what kind of toilet paper I buy. When I expressed my pandemic concerns to Scott he just suggested that he and Henry could just go rub their asses on the grass like the dogs do. Not helpful Scott.

Then it happened. On June 5th I had to break down and purchase on Amazon, fucking Quilted Northern. The Charmin Bears were going to be so disappointed in me. Let me tell you it was false advertising. There was nothing quilted about it. It says it is “meticulously crafted for a reliable, comfortable experience”. They lied. I would give Quilted Northern 1 poop emoji out of 5. It is narrow. I have big hands. It was not soft or quilted. Plus they said double roll and it was most certainly not a double. It was like going to an overpriced hipster bar in Seattle, paying for a double and you could still do math in your head after drinking it. These rolls hanging on my wall made me very sad. It is a hard pass on the Northern.

Finally on June 18th and July 1st I was able to purchase Charmin on Amazon. But there was a limit, so I had to buy all three Charmin models of toilet paper. I filled a tall cabinet in our garage with toilet paper, all kinds of Charmin. We will not run out this year. Yet still the 18 year old boy takes the roll off the holder in my bathroom when he runs out, instead of going to the cupboard like a human and getting his own pack. I had told him when storing the Charmin that he was not allowed to use the blue package because it was mine. I said you can use the red package or the green package, but do not touch the blue. Recently I saw him slinking up the stairs with a blue package, I yelled at him and started up the stairs willing to physically remove it from his hands if necessary. He smirked and locked his bathroom door. I used to change his diapers, he really should go with the red package.

The Red Package is the “Charmin Ultra Strong Clean Touch”. This model gets 4 Poop emojis. The roll is huge, so if you are the one that never wants to change the roll this is for you. It is so big it won’t fit in our recessed holder in one of our bathrooms, which is not an issue since no one in my house ever puts the roll on the actual holder. Keep in mind that you can judge a Charmin product by the adjectives used. They all start with Ultra. This is so accurate. The dictionary defines Ultra as “extremist, radical, fanatical”. If this does not describe me and Charmin I don’t know what would. Amazon indicates this is 2 ply. All you single ladies, before you commit to a partner, check their toilet paper, if it is 1 ply, I am sorry you need to “dump” them. Charmin describes this one as “designed for a wash cloth like cleaning”. This was a turn off for me. First you can’t flush a wash cloth and this reminds me of stories of fraternity friends using t-shirts or whatever was nearby when there was no TP, usually a t-shirt of a roommate. You know who you are. It also says it is clog proof. They lie. So 4 Poop Emojis, it is strong, it is a big roll, your hand will not get dirty. I recommend the red package for the men in your life particularly teenage boys, but invest in a plunger.

The Green package is “Charmin Ultra Gentle Touch”. Here we go with the word Touch again. I don’t like the word touch associated with wiping at all. It markets itself as the only one with a touch of lotion. It is dermatologist tested. How did that work? It says it is gentle enough for even frequent wiping. I give the green package 2 poop emojis. I ate Thai food several times this past week, so you need to trust me that any toilet paper mentioning the word Gentle is probably not going to stand up to what your bowels are capable of. For sure never give a roll of the green package to the men in your life. If you do, make sure none of your clothes are laying nearby the toilet. I would not even blow my nose with this crap. The lotion makes it feel waxy, it is not very strong, I didn’t measure but it felt narrow, I got pee on my hand. This is not a good toilet paper for the ladies. Don’t let them fool you with the word Gentle and the female child bear on the package. This TP is for little kids that will probably get shit on their hands if they wipe themselves no matter what kind of TP it is. I wouldn’t even TP a house with this one.

The best for last. The Blue Package. This is what Costco carries. This has been the McCutcheon brand for nearly 30 years. I guess you could call it vintage at this point. The blue package is “Charmin Ultra Soft Cushiony Touch”. Soft and Cushiony is exactly what this toilet paper is. Cushiony is not even a recognized word in the dictionary. It is that special that it needed its own word. I give this one the coveted 5 poop emojis. The marketing describes it as “unique”, “irresistibly soft” and “more absorbent so you can use less”. I only disagree with the use less part, remember Thai Food. You will want a nice handheld pillow of this stuff. The rolls are big, it is soft, it doesn’t shed (you ladies know what I mean) and you will get no pee on your hand. You will not want to spare a square of this stuff for anyone. This is toilet seat down, the best.

In closing I want to say I have figured out the purpose of the Charmin Bears. I always thought that marketing was really stupid mainly because they are not wearing pants and they use the word “hiney”. But actually it is brilliant. It is exactly like the fairy tale, Goldilocks and the three bears. Seriously, your mind should be blown right now. Each of these packages has a different bear on the front of the package. The Red, “Strong, Clean” has the Dad Bear on it. It is manly like sand paper. The Green has the little girl bear on it. It is sweet and gentle, it is a prissy little toilet paper. Notice there is none with the son bear, because he is probably using a t-shirt at the Bear Frat. But the Blue! The Blue has the Mom on it. Because who knows their shit in all families? Yes, that would be Mom. You’re Welcome.

I really love to write.  It is like talking but it doesn’t matter if anyone is actually listening.  I decided to post an article that had nothing to do with my grief or pain.  I just couldn’t go there today, but I still wanted to write something useful, so I decided to post reviews for my top five favorite purchases in August from my boyfriend, Amazon.  I hope you find it helpful.  If you don’t, just keep it to yourself.

Backstory:

I have been purging the house slowly but continuously during Pandemic August.  One thing I have learned in the process of cleaning out many shelves and drawers and closets, not even close to done, is that we have a lot of Shit.  Shit we didn’t use, Shit that didn’t work well, Shit that didn’t have a specific place it lived so we were always searching for it, multiple items of the same Shit because when we couldn’t find something we bought a new one, Shit everywhere. 

In this process I have made decisions by asking: Do I need it? Do I use it, like in the last year?  Is it a quality item that is going to last a long time? Can someone else use and enjoy it?  Can I recycle it?  I tossed in some Konmari, does it bring us joy?  Yes, I also made Scott thank that pair of boxers with the holes for serving him well before he tossed it.  I won’t quote him directly, but the word “skid” was involved.

Now I can purchase new favorite things because I now have a place to put them.  Some may seem silly, again these are my opinions not yours.  All these items either bring me joy or I have found I actually use them.  Nothing mind blowing, but right now, unemployed during a pandemic, it is the little nonpolitical Shit that I am getting excited about.  I also am writing this entry because Scott now refuses to listen to me when I start my daily show and tell.  The Amazon and UPS man hates me, I was out watering and the dude said, “another package for you”, with emphasis on the “another”.  Whatever, I am keeping you employed dude.  Links to the items are included.

Dawn’s Top Five Favorite Things from Amazon purchased in August

1. Cost- $12.99  Purpose – Opening those Amazon Boxes and popping those air pillows that I can now recycle with my new Ridwell service.  My new favorite thing is a Fiskars Pro Retractable knife.  We were always using scissors we could never find or kitchen knives that was not very safe.  Both items are now very dull.  I decided to invest in a utility knife.  I was skeptical, we own an ancient box cutter that I am scared to use.  It has no safety features and I am very clumsy.  Plus I can never find it.  It has been left outside so it is rusty.  I don’t want to risk a tetanus shot.  This new tool has been in my pocket of my lounge pants nearly all week.  Super safe and super amazing.  You need one, trust me.  I always keep it in the same drawer. (we will see if that new healthy habit sticks).  It is also amazing at that Damn packaging a lot of companies insist on using, you know the hard-plastic shit, that usually cuts you.  It breaks boxes down for recycle Tuesday like a breeze.  Click Here

2. Cost $16.99 Purpose – Power, tidiness and some laziness.  As my phone has gotten older, it doesn’t hold a charge as long, plus I use it A LOT.  Scott and I both have our “spots” on the sectional.  Yes, they both are recliners.  We are THAT couple, we both regret not getting the divider that had storage and drink holders.  I thought it was tacky, now I want it.  I usually have at least 2 devices going during couch time; my phone and a laptop.  Scott has at least 2; iPad and phone.  Under the old way Scott is closest to the outlet.  He has one charger plugged in to the wall outlet that he takes turns using with his devices and it won’t quite reach to his lap, so the item sits on the end table while charging. I use an extension cord over the top of the couch.  I have gotten it caught up in the recliner mechanism many times.  This solution is another new favorite thing.  Anker Power Port Cube.  I love it.  It is tidy, it sits between us on the couch, we can plug in all the things we need to charge.  Plus, we can conveniently use the item while it is charging.  It comes in White or Black if you need to match your décor.  I have bought a ton of products from Anker over the years.  The items are always high quality.  The other first world problem I had is that I didn’t own a long enough charging cord to use my phone in bed while it charges unless I am on the edge of the bed on my left side.  The dogs don’t like it when I turn my back on them.  Instead of paying more buying extra and longer cords I got one of these cubes for our room.  I can put it on the bed and charge and use whatever I need!  Phone, Kindle, Laptop, etc.  I loved it so much I got the small two port version that I have set up on the table between my porch chairs also known as the new Mom Porch Cave.  I have a phone charger plugged in and a small USB powered Fan.  Henry mocked me for the Fan outdoors.  But who is sitting there inching closer to menopause, enjoying the nice breeze on my Mom Porch Cave?  This girl.  Click Here

(Scott is snoring in this photo)

#3 – Cost – $24.99 Purpose – Lighting, Laziness, Fun Toy, Saves Electricity Four years ago, I spent months researching (I research everything) backyard string lights.  There are multiple layouts and you want them to stay up once you put the work in.  I had a Pinterest board for the project.  Hayley wanted the backyard to be fun for her Graduation Party.  With my very kind and handy brother’s help Scott made our vision reality.  It was finished about an hour before the party!  If you need to know about String Lights, I am your gal.  Scott spends a lot of time on the back patio in what we call the “hammock of grief” (another Amazon favorite thing).  He loves the lights; I love seeing them from inside the house.  I have always had it on a basic timer that worked intermittently.  I noticed that Scott was not using them very much, he turned the timer off since it really didn’t get enough sun to be accurate.  It was easily confused.  Turning them on required bending over, he just wasn’t using them.  I also didn’t like plugging them in and out because, spiders.  This past week our talented handyman installed String Lights on our side deck.  They are attached to the house and a tree and they are lovely.  He had mentioned that a recent client had hooked up hers with the ability to control them with a remote!  Holy Shit that sounds awesome.  Wait, we can’t have remotes.  First, we would totally lose it, set it down somewhere and won’t be able to find it and Finn eats remotes.  Then I thought, I wonder if Alexa could turn on the lights??  Sure enough Amazon was my hero again.  I bought an Outdoor Smart Plug Outlet.  We plugged the lights into this new toy.  This also freed up one of the outlets so Scott can run an extension cord to the hammock for his Ipad.  I got him a pink cord.  He is comfortable with pink.  This new toy allowed me to set up zones, like Mancave lights only, Deck lights only or All ON!  All controlled by an APP on my phone or by demanding Alexa do it for me.  I have seriously entertained myself for the last two nights, turning them on and off while Scott is in the hammock.  He is very much over it!  Now we will use the lights more plus the APP can program a schedule, saving energy.  I like going to bed with them on and enjoy the view, and now I can program them from my phone to go off when I am sleeping therefore not wasting electricity.  I ordered more string lights for the Mom Porch Cave.  Very fun and useful toy.  I am trying to figure out how to hook Henry up to the APP and program it to take out the garbage when I ask.  Elon Musk needs to get working on this idea.  Click Here

#4 Cost – $29.97 Purpose – Organization, Tidiness, Help locate Kitchen tools The first place I started in August in the Great Pandemic Clean Out was the kitchen drawers.  After having sold Pampered Chef and being a huge fan, I had a lot of tools and accessories.  They were all crammed into drawers and it was impossible to locate an item quickly.  Disclaimer, I don’t like to cook.  Scott and Henry generally don’t like when I cook either.  I am not that good at it and it takes way too much energy that I am lacking right now.  Door Dash is much easier.  I took everything out of all the drawers.  I sorted; keep, donate, gift or trash.  But I still had the issue of the kept items being all jumbled in the drawer.  A standard drawer organizer would not work because the compartments were too small and just didn’t fit the odd sized items.  I was using Amazon to search for organization ideas and ran across these beauties.  Adjustable Bamboo Drawer Dividers.  These amazing tools come in a four pack.  I was able to divide drawers to the width needed to hold all the like items.  It was like getting custom kitchen drawers.  Guess what, I don’t mind being in the kitchen as much because I now can find the fricking tongs!  I am considering ordering another pack to use in our bathroom drawers.  Currently I use little plastic organizers and that leaves unused space.  When we remodeled our bathroom, we downsized the vanity, so space is valuable.  Click Here

#5 – Cost $102.99 Purpose – A fun toy to motivate me to cook, cook healthier foods, cook quickly, save money on takeout meals I saved the big, best and most expensive item for last!  I had heard of the Air Fryer craze.  I thought it would be like the Instant Pot.  Many people bought them; many are not using them.  This is where you can benefit from my research skills.  We bought the Cosori Air Fryer Max, 5.8 quart.  There are so many brands, styles and features available on these bad boys.  They range in size and style, from small round units to the huge small oven like ones that do everything but give you a manicure.  I started by asking friends which model they had, what do they like about them and what feature did they wish they had.  I then started reading reviews on Amazon.  I gleaned enough information to know the following:  Nobody ever regretted not getting a bigger one, but lots of people regretted getting the small ones.  People really liked the units with preset food settings.  I found out which ones cleaned up well, hello, the dishwasher not by hand in my house.  Food turned out more successful with a pre-heat option.  The size and shape do matter.  We bought this specific model that I have named Frank, for the following reasons.  The size, 5.8 quart is big enough to make things for 2 to 4 people.  We did not get the big combo oven; not enough counter space and we like our retro looking toaster.  It has a pre-heat option.  Very non-stick and easy to clean.  I liked the white one, everyone has black, be different.  It fits in our cabinet when not in use.  It has 11 preset buttons for us less than perfect chefs.  The square shape allows you to fit more items, you don’t lose the corners like in a round basket.  The preset buttons beep and remind you halfway through the process to shake the items in the basket to make sure everything cooks perfectly.  Very positive reviews.  The reason I may love Frank a little more than Scott is that it has me cooking for real, in the kitchen!  Not Door Dash cooking, but real healthy cooking. We have sat down as a family of three and eaten meals together at an actual table more times in the last month than we did all of 2019.  I have only tapped the tip of the iceberg on Frank’s talents.  So far, we have cooked frozen food to perfection and in half the time.  Bonus that we don’t use the oven since our AC is broken and it is Summer.  The frozen items we have tried and had success with are:  French fries, chicken wings, and cheese sticks.  Scott and Henry have even introduced themselves to Frank.  All these items came out crispy on the outside and juicy or soft on the inside.  I have cut up baby red potatoes, mixed with olive oil and rosemary.  Tastes like at a restaurant.  Sliced zucchini comes out perfect.  The best thing so far has been not wasting as much food when we do take out.  It reheats leftovers and leaves them tasting like you just picked those fries up.  Trust me you need your own Frank.  I have been told it cooks all kinds of meat and seafood.  It even can bake.  That will be fun to experiment with.  There are hundreds of ideas on the internet with easy instructions.  You just need to know the temperature and the amount of time.  My goal is to become braver and adventurous with Frank in September.  Click Here for Frank.

****warning, this post is very raw and emotional, Hayley’s death is a part of the writing. If this might be a trigger for you, please skip this one****

August 6th – Hayley’s service. I am not ready. If we don’t go, it can’t happen. I have not written my speech. I am running out of time. If the service doesn’t happen none of this happened. Sara is here, I come down the stairs and see it on the counter. I have never seen it before. I knew Sara was bringing it. It is blue, her favorite color. My knees buckle. What is left of my child is inside that blue jar. In the car, No, this can’t be happening. Where are all these cars going? So many people. So much work done. It is beautiful, the red barn, photos, flowers, glassy babies, a giant canvas of Hayley, Scott is going to faint, get him in a private room, he is breaking down. No, not now, he can’t do that now. He want’s Rob. Kevin gets Rob. Henry’s friends circle him. It is hot. Where are all these people going to sit? This place seats 200. The owner says she stopped counting at 500, they are still trying to figure out where to put all the cars. I don’t understand what is happening. My Uncle and Aunt are here. The bracelets. The programs. The cookies. The food. If Scott and I don’t take our seats it can’t start. If it doesn’t start it won’t be over. So many people. They all want to talk to me. I don’t remember who, or what I said. Sara puts food and root beer in my hands. There is a hedgehog. A cat. What is happening?

September 8th – Our wedding anniversary, 1995. Hayley is not here to bug Scott about what he plans to do to celebrate. Our plans from that day. It is not happening the way it was supposed to. What is there to celebrate?

October 31st – I was the best Halloween Mom. Hayley should be at Western. We decorated like it was Christmas. Always had a party. Always homemade Henry’s Costumes but Hayley’s was always ordered and exactly what she wanted. Henry was the best sport. We had Epic Halloweens.

Thanksgiving – We had started a tradition in 2012. Brunch/Lunch at Salty’s at Alki. So much food. Then a movie. Several years of Harry Potter, Hunger Games, a Disney movie, a Star Wars movie.

Christmas Eve – Hayley kept us on task with our traditions. We always went to the zoo during the day. We would feel like the only ones there. Hayley could sit with her orangutans friends. Henry got to help the keeper feed the penguins. Pick an ornament and stuffed animal in the gift shop. Then into the minivan, White Christmas on the DVD player, Hayley loved the tap scenes. Dinner at Burgermaster. Home, matching pajamas, bake cookies, go to bed.

Christmas – Pajamas all day. Grateful and happy kids. Play, eat and nap all day. Robinsons, Chinese food, and poker games. Lots of baked goods.

January 1st – Happy New Year! Another year without Hayley gone by. Another new year she doesn’t live in. Time for New Year’s Resolutions. I don’t know, how about just Breathe.

January 24th – Happy Birthday to me. Hayley liked to make a homemade cake. She would make sure I felt loved and celebrated. My last Birthday with Hayley she made me cards. “Open When…” Cards. About a dozen. I still have not opened all of them. I don’t know why, maybe once I do it is one more thing I don’t have any more. Some of the ones I have not opened, “Open when you need to know how much I miss you” / “Open when you need to know how much I love you” / “Open when Dad is being an asshole”

February 1st – Happy Birthday Scott. Hayley liked to make him a cake. Daddy’s Girl.

February 14th – Always my Valentine. I always put together Valentine’s gifts for the kids. She told me that I would always be her Valentine. Henry told me all the time when he was not a teenager, “I will always be Mommy’s Sweetie”

Easter – We always as a family colored Eggs. Hayley usually used the white crayon to write the F word or draw a dick. Always went all out on the Easter Baskets. Decorated the house. The boys don’t notice when I don’t.

April 29th – Happy Birthday Hayley, Forever 19. Planned delivery date. Hyper speed labor. Did not know, boy or girl? Hayley Storm or Taylor Scott. 3:30 pm it is a girl, perfect

May 8th – Henry’s Birthday. So happy that we were able to wait, she did not want to share a birthday with a sibling. Hayley picked the middle name for a girl. Kept it a surprise again. Another planned delivery, another high speed labor, complications. Is it a boy or a girl? Henry Scott or Katherine (Kate) Belle? It is a Boy, perfect, one of each. Our family is 100% complete. What will Hayley think when she gets here? 6:30 pm delivery. Hayley arrives, “Why is he not a sister?” Pure love on her face, he is her baby. She will protect him forever. Hayley was the only person that could make him smile for the photos I insist on taking on birthdays. Again, feels like someone is missing.

Mother’s Day – She thought I was the best Mom ever.

Father’s Day – Again, Hayley made the plans for this day. I am so sorry Scott.

July 4th – The last day we spent doing something as a family. The first 4th after her death, Henry was carjacked. The time when we did not know how badly he was hurt was a glimpse into what it would be like to have my life be over. July 4th kicks off the month from hell.

July 11th – Her surgery date. The date she was looking forward to and was nervous about. The last photo taken. The last time I saw her smile. The start of two weeks of pure Hell. The day I wish I never let happen.

July 11th – July 15th – Why can’t I make her better? Why can’t the doctors help? What are we missing? Her constant pain. Calling, messaging every doctor we know, please help us, we need help, we can’t get help. Something is wrong. Please help us.

July 16th – Her last day at home. Her last day in my arms. Her last day in her bed. Her last shower, helping her, her laying on the bathroom floor mustering the strength to get dressed, her repeated apologizing that she was putting us through this. Our last conversation, which ended with me saying “Stop apologizing. Don’t you know how much I love you? Hayley look at me, I adore everything about you”

July 17th – The pain. The family room. The dogs. She leaving the house. The ambulance. The diagnosis. The mistakes. The ICU. Kissing her goodbye thinking everything would be okay now. Dad is staying with you, I am going to check on your brother. Telling her not to worry, it was all going to be better now. They were going to fix her. Going home to reassure Henry that everything was going to be okay now.

July 18th – 1:00 am, the call. Scott, what is wrong, tell me what is wrong. Screaming for Henry, Call Terri. Your sister is having a stroke. Scott why can’t you talk? Racing to the Hospital. Trying to get in to a locked building. Elevator. Rounding the corner to her room. She is naked, what are they doing, they are doing CPR, screaming her name over and over. Losing control of my bladder. Being restrained. Screaming her name from the floor. Scaring everyone in the ICU. Nurses, doctors “she asked for you, she was alert, “where is my mom, call my mom, I need my mom” It happened so fast. I didn’t get there in time. I should not have left. Why did I not understand what could happen? Surgery. She may be able to hear you. Begging her to wake up. Surgery did not go well, too late. Why do her eyes look like that? I know she is gone. Don’t touch me. Nurses and staff won’t look me in the eye. My brother and sister in law. My mom is here. Sandy is here. Kevin setting up a Caring Bridge Page. Time to do tests. What tests? Three tests to determine if she was alive. But she looks alive, she is warm, I can touch her face, hold her hand. I just need to sleep, I will wake up and this will not be happening. People are here, friends, family, pediatrician, surgeon, it will be okay now. Signing paperwork. Who will tell Henry? I need Henry here. Looking at Scott, no words needed.

July 19th – No changes. More tests. I won’t look. It won’t be true. More people. Food. Sandy taking care of Henry and the dogs.

July 20th – We need to talk. Scott, Me, Hayley’s pediatrician. Small room, boxes everywhere. Cold doctor. She is gone. I don’t understand. Sign a DNR. I don’t want to, are you sure? Poor bedside manners. Scott and I, making decisions. Wait, she would want to donate her organs. Scott find that DNR. The Organ donation team is here. Dawn, you have to answer their questions, you are the only one that will know all the answers. It is time to let her friends say goodbye. Giving a list of those friends. Hiding in the family room, Scott showing his strength, greeting each girl and their parents. Letting them say goodbye. Her best friend is in Wyoming and driving back, we won’t sign anything until she gets here, we have to wait for her. Scott stronger than I ever imagined. I was hiding. The date on her death certificate. A piece of paper, file it with her birth certificate. The organ donation team is here.

July 21st – The team. Watching over her. Tests, lots of Tests. Updates, searching for matches. Her heart is not strong enough to donate. We can go another day and try to make it stronger. She must donate her heart, I won’t accept anything less. She has the best heart in the world. Matches found, matches lost. No, we will not leave the hospital until she does. Where is Henry? You are only 15, you need to say goodbye to your sister. Yes, we will go another day.

July 22nd – Crying, laying across her, if I cover her with my body she will be okay. Who is in the doorway? I don’t know him, he is crying. I approach and I see his badge. It is the anesthesiologist that did the epidural on the 11th. He wants permission to see her and say goodbye. I hug him and give him what he needs. More tests. Matches for Kidneys. Canada will take her liver. Her heart is not strong enough. Will you wait another day? Yes we will go another day. More goodbyes. Hiding. Touching her. Mementos. My brother and sister in law, the friends. So many friends, people are there, I don’t hear them. I only see Scott and Henry and Hayley. More tests. More planning. More watching. More goodbyes. Amy, Lacey, Julie. Kind Nurses. Talking about Hayley in the present tense. Touching her, playing music for her. We can’t risk losing the perfect Kidney matches. I won’t risk that for her heart. Can we try one more night? Yes.

July 23rd – We have a match for her heart. We have a doctor willing to take a chance on it. It is the recipients only chance. Procurement Surgery is scheduled at 5:00. The panic, time is running out. This is really happening. Meeting the surgeons. Private plane waiting for her liver. No braids, undo it. My hands in her beautiful hair. Her hands that look like mine. Her matching mani and pedi to mine. Yellow socks. Singing you are my sunshine over and over. Saying goodbye, but not really believing it. Don’t touch me. Scott and I alone with our daughter. No words. Not reality. Scott is crying. I see Scott but he is 27 and he is cutting the cord and he is holding his baby girl. Panic, this can’t be happening. Scott. This is not happening. It is 5:00. No. I am not ready, they need to wait. They can’t wait long. Other lives are waiting, other families are waiting. The Doctor disconnects the machines and his hands keep her breathing. She is still alive. I put my head on her chest and listen to her heart beat. Her nurse, Brittany, in street clothes. The bed is pushed out of the room. Friends and Family, I don’t know who was there. We walk behind her, the top of her head visible, her beautiful hair. Brittany holding my left hand, Scott holding my right. A sad parade. No this is not happening. It can’t happen without my permission, I am the Mom. She needs to come back. Scott make this stop. Our parade stops at the elevators. Amy explains the timing. Brittany promises not to leave her until she is in the hands of the surgeon. Amy will not leave her, she promises. The elevator door opens, NO. I watch my child enter the elevator. Please NO. Scott make this stop. Please NO. The door shuts. The elevator light shows down, it stops on the surgery floor, the number flashes. Our group stands there. I walk back to her ICU room. It is empty, it is quiet. My brother, taking my Mom. What do we do now? Scott asks if I can ride with Terri, he would like to drive home alone. I am scared he won’t make it home. It is sunny, super bright, it hurts my eyes. As we pull out I see Brittany walking to her car. I yell goodbye and thank you. I am home. I don’t know where Henry is. I am on my spot on the couch. People are here. I don’t remember who. Lots of food. Flowers. I watch my phone. A message from Amy, the surgery is happening. The liver is perfect. No on the lungs. The heart surgeon is there, he is very happy, the heart is perfect, he is taking care of it. That must mean the recipient is close. Who are these people? Do they know anything about her? Do they know how special she is? I can’t think of the mechanics of what is happening. If I do I will throw up. Another text. All good news, we made the right decisions, her heart will continue to beat for another. A final call, the surgery is over. My brother took care of the rest. I can’t remember who, time, how I got to bed. Who fed the dogs? Where was Henry? I can’t talk to Scott. When I look at him I see my pain reflected back at me. I feel alone. I don’t feel like I am at home. Nothing feels real. I don’t understand what has happened.

July 24th – Other families celebrate, their loved ones will live because of my child. It is sunny. How can it be sunny? Where is Henry? My Mom flies home. What do we do now? We need to do something? I need something to do. We will have a vigil for the recipients. They need to survive this week. I can’t handle it if they don’t survive. Order the candles. Lori makes it happen. Will her friend sing. This is about the recipients, I will speak, I will tell everyone we need to think positive thoughts that they survive. I will plan it. I must keep moving, I must keep busy. Remember the BE lessons. That was one of our things. I did not know how rare donation was. More people need to be like Hayley. An Idea, a movement. I will plan it. If I have something to do, I can’t think about it. Where is Henry? Scott make it stop. More food. Friends for life, taking care of everything. Henry calls it the magic cooler on the porch. Food just keeps showing up in the cooler. It gives us something to look forward to. I don’t understand what happened. What went wrong? Why could they not save her? What did I do wrong? Does everyone from the previous week know she died? Do they care? How will I survive?

It seems to me that people put a timeline on grief. Just the fact that we have been taught that there are stages of grief implies that there is a set path. Numbering the stages makes you feel like there is a beginning, a middle and therefore an end. Nothing can be further from the real truth of Grief. The five stages of grief ; denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance were identified by the book “On Death and Dying” written by Elisabeth Kubler Ross in 1969. Elisabeth had good intentions but it has been argued that her original goal of having those in medical school understand what someone may go through when ill and dying has actually caused harm. At one point she revised her findings to include 7 stages. If you google the “stages of grief” you will find information talking about 5, 7, 8 and 12 stages of grief. Everyone always has their own opinion, right? What Elisabeth did accomplish is opening and encouraging conversation about grief, a topic that most doctors did not address and many people suffered in silence. But by labeling grief it became a prescription for how we are supposed to act and feel when suffering loss. But the process is not linear it is more like an unpredictable storm (yes I worked her middle name in there). Stages of grief make me feel like the process should be like a ladder. If you move up the ladder one rung at the time you will arrive at your destination or your goal. So when people go through stages of grief out of order or repeat stages they feel that they are not getting anywhere, they are not following the correct path and they are doing it wrong. What is wrong with me and how do I fix it? I am a fixer, I don’t think I will get healthier until I truly understand and accept that I can’t fix this.

There is no wrong way to do Grief. Sometimes YOU don’t do Grief, Grief does you. This is the unpredictability. The unpredictability of the process includes things like unexpected emotions, triggers, other’s expectations, and a million other things. It is a physical process. Many people, including professionals that we look to for help and answers, view grief as a form of mental illness. It is not just emotional and mental, it is truly physical. Grief does a number on your body. WebMD says “It batters the immune system leaving you depleted and vulnerable to infection. The heartbreak of grief can increase blood pressure and the risk of blood clots. Intense grief can alter the heart muscle so much that it causes broken heart syndrome a form of heart disease with the same symptoms as a heart attack.”

For the past year and a half, I posted less and less on this blog. I had to find a job. Then I had a job. I had to prove myself. If co-workers or people in power were to read how broken I am I believed they would think less of me, they would expect less of me. So I didn’t hide my experience, but I worked harder than normal to prove that it would not impact my ability to be successful in my role. Well, I think I wasted a lot of good writing time. At the end of June I lost my job. It is not clear why. My metrics and my benchmarks placed my event and performance in the top 10% nationally. Two men in a position of power made this decision. They took away my distraction and my purpose for getting out of bed every morning. They both lack emotional intelligence. The parts of my grief that might make my job challenging at the same time made me good at the job. I was able and really couldn’t help being empathetic to people I met suffering from the disease or impacted by the disease. Having raw emotions always at the surface made me vulnerable to people and allowed me to make strong personal connections. Fundraising and creating awareness for a cause is all about building relationships. I found that by sharing my experience with some constituents and volunteers, that we were able to connect on our common emotions. I may never know why or if my grief played a role in my job loss. I now have to grieve the loss of my job and what that means for my family financially and my stress level. Stress is the mechanism that makes what you experience emotionally and mentally become physical. Stress raises your blood pressure and increases inflammation in your body. Don’t discount the physical aspects of grief, they are truly real. Also, remember grief is not just the loss of a loved one, but can be felt from a divorce, a loss of a job, or a global pandemic!

The stages of grief make many sufferers feel they are doing it wrong. It is completely normal for humans to try to find an answer to every question, we need things to make sense, we need an explanation, we need a plan and when we don’t get it we think we must not be asking the right questions or that some how it is our fault. We could write an entire blog just on how mental health has been historically ignored and not taken seriously. I don’t believe there have been huge strides n the treatment of grief.

Like having a dictionary to define our vocabulary there is a publication to define mental illness. It is called the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders or DSM. (disclaimer, I am not an expert on mental health, I am not an expert on publications, I am just sharing what is helping me understand what I am dealing with and therefore maybe help you) I believe that we are on the 5th edition of the DSM and it was published in maybe 2012. The DSM was criticized early on as not having a lot of science behind it. It seems to me it was more of some random man’s explanation of what was to be considered normal or abnormal in our society. Up until 1974, homesexuality was listed in the DSM as a mental disorder. Don’t even get me started. I feel like we skipped pride month this year.

I do actually have a point here. Since the “stages of grief” book back in 1969, there really has not been a focus on treating people for grief even though we have scientific proof that it is a real thing that disrupts your life and impacts your physical health. Recently there is a new “diagnosis” that I have self diagnosed myself with. (Thank you WebMd and Mayo Clinic.org) I believe that I am suffering from “Complicated Grief Disorder”. For some reason, I feel better having a name and label for the living hell that I walk through every single day. See we humans love to label things. (I also own an actual label maker and it is one of my favorite things. I remember a day Hayley took it and labelled just about anything she could find including, her brother, the dogs, chargers, food, and more. I still find some of those labels) If we can label it maybe we can control it? Complicated Grief Disorder or also labelled Complicated Bereavement is a real condition, but it is not listed as such in the DSM, but what is hopeful is that it is listed as a “condition for further study”. Okay, let’s do that.

Okay, you are probably asking, what is the difference between regular grief and complicated grief. It seems to me that it is defined by the length of time someone is feeling it and how negatively it impacts their ability to function. It feels to me like an attempt to categorize people that don’t follow the nice, tidy and linear path of the stages of grief. Guess how long you must be suffering to be defined as “complicated”? The DSM says 12 months, some articles I found said if someone is still struggling after 6 months they are now at this escalated definition of grief. Are you fricking kidding me? My 19 year old child died. I should feel recovered after 12 months, that is insane. I don’t know how that time period was decided on, was it that you have experienced every month of the year without your child so now you should be accustomed to your new normal? I know you may be feeling shocked like I was, but be honest with yourself, have you put a time limit on your own grief or the grief of people you care about. Have you thought to yourself, it seems Dawn is getting worse not better, it has been three years this week, shouldn’t she be better? How long do you perform the typical support activities? How many meals did you make for a grieving community member or family in the first three months after it happened? How many have you done that after the first year? Most people that suffer the loss of a child will say that the 2nd year is worse than the first. I am not criticizing, I am just trying to get us to see our own false or unreasonable expectations of ourselves or others when it comes to grieving. The most powerful thing a person can do is show support for another person in pain. My hope is we can all learn from my journey.

Here are the symptoms of Complicated Bereavement, I think this sounds a lot like just plain normal grief. Some people may not have all of these, some may only have a few symptoms, but their grief is no less real and no less painful. Don’t judge someone’s pain by their symptoms. I have made the mistake of thinking grief will fade with time. That is what I experienced with the death of a friend, my stepmom, my dad and my grandmother. I don’t think that is going to happen for me and Hayley.

The signs of complicated grief include:

• Obsession with the departed person, expressed through speech and behavior
• Deep, unbearable sadness that never seems to lift
• Pessimistic expressions of doom, gloom, and despair about life in general
• Irritability and a hair-trigger temper that makes the person difficult to communicate with
• Sleeping problems (insomnia, or sleeping at odd hours)
• Lack of attention to grooming and personal appearance
• Refusing to leave the home
• Persistent anger and bitterness toward the world
• Withdrawal from social interactions and activities the individual used to enjoy
• Denial and defensiveness when asked about the grief
• Distracted performance on the job, or an inability to engage with or take interest in others
• Worsening of any preexisting mental health conditions (depression, PTSD, anxiety disorder, substance abuse, etc.)
• Strong attachment to mementos and reminders of the departed person or, conversely, a strong aversion to those reminders
• Inability to manage daily affairs in a wide range of contexts (work, school, financial, parental, etc.)
• Behavior that seems reckless, impulsive, or potentially self-destructive
• Talk of suicide, or actual suicide attempts

I can count 8 of these symptoms for myself. But as I am reading this, a lot of these symptoms sound a lot like 2020 and Covid Quarantine, what do you think? I wonder what that will mean for all of us. You all may be suffering from some amount of Grief right now. This may not be a bad thing, it may make us more empathetic in general.

I started this entry trying to understand where I am at today. Today was the anniversary of the date I watched my daughter die. Maybe if I can start defining my symptoms I can come up with solutions. I like to make lists, maybe I can have a grief to do list. My counselor has asked me what do I think recovery will look like. Because ultimately the goal is some form of recovery I guess. But I can’t answer that question. I can never imagine recovering from the loss of Hayley. Maybe I need to redefine my goal. Maybe recovery won’t be an option for me. Can I live with that?

I will leave you with some tips to help the people you care about cope with their grief. Remember this may not just be death, it could be the loss of a job, or the loss of what we considered normal. Quarantine, fear of getting sick, wearing a mask, and so on. Covid is the death of our generations “normal”. We may need to grieve before we can accept and be productive again.

Don’t ask someone “how are you?”. I have seriously ran out of adjectives to answer that question with. Instead, ask “what are you feeling today?”

Let us talk about our loved one as much and as often as we want. We are terrified that you or we will forget about that person, that their life did not have meaning. If me talking about Hayley makes you uncomfortable, that is on you. She lived, she is as big of a part of me as she was when she was in my womb. I don’t want to worry about clearing a room because I mention her name. In general people like to talk about themselves. Grieving moms want to talk about their children. Give them that chance. If you knew Hayley, don’t be afraid to bring up a memory you have of her. If you didn’t know her, ask me a question about her.

Try not to say “you will get through this” because honestly I don’t think I will. When I hear that I feel like a failure. Instead maybe say “we are in this together” or “I am here to support you on this journey whatever that looks like”

Don’t say “let me know how I can help”. We barely have the energy to make daily decisions. I can’t think of how you can help, I also don’t want to be a burden, I don’t want to hear a courtesy invite, and it may be all I can do that day is breathe, I can’t also come up with an answer for you. Be specific, not open ended. “Can we have socially distanced coffee on Thursday or Friday?”. If I can’t say yes, make sure that is okay. You can say, “Are you available for coffee on Thursday?” me, thinking well I am unemployed so probably yes, but will I feel like doing that on Thursday? “Great if you are available why don’t we plan on it at 10:00. I will call or message you by 9:00 to see if you feel up to it.” Let the me know that it is okay to say no, and that you will keep asking and if I never say yes, that is okay. Don’t make it about you. It is not about you. You can also say “I am going to the store today, what can I pick up for you and leave on your porch?”

Grief re-writes your address book. People that you have known for years may not be the people that are capable of supporting you. Be open to new people. Some of my biggest supporters never met Hayley.

Don’t always feel you need to fill the silence. I am so bad at this. I am a conversation filler! I have always felt silence needed to be filled. It doesn’t. There are times when I just need you to sit with me.

This is a big one. Don’t compare losses. I am so guilty of this one. Try not to judge people. The loss of a baby is just as traumatic as losing a 19 year old. Don’t compare your loss to mine. Never ever minimize your feelings or feel that you don’t deserve to feel as bad as me. A perfect example is suicide. A mother that lost a child to suicide and a mother that lost a child in any other way are exactly the same, they are a grieving mother. Again, don’t judge.

Dates will be hard forever. Holidays, birthdays, anniveraries, etc. Own it. I thought it is just a date, I should not let it have this much control over me. It does, accept it, plan ahead, take the day off work, let your friends and family know if there is anything they can do to help that day. One year you may need to be distracted, one year you may just need to try to sleep through it.

I saw this one recently on another grief blog, I wish I had practiced this one, maybe I would not be still struggling with my weight. People will bring you food. It is just a thing. Don’t feel guilty if you don’t eat it, and in my case don’t feel guilty if you do.

Death makes people uncomfortable. Expect awkward moments and insensitive comments. Cut people some slack.

Triggers are a real thing. They are not always obvious and you never see them coming.

Never say to a grieving Mom the following statements, if they say it first it is fine, “they are in a better place”, “God had a plan for them”, “they are no longer in pain”, Don’t assume they have the same religious beliefs as you.

Do not say “I can’t imagine what you are going through”. First that just makes me feel jealous of you and instead of saying you can’t, how about you try to understand what I am going through? True love and support always starts with the effort to be empathetic.

Please don’t say “everything happens for a reason”. There is never going to be a reason I can accept for why Hayley died.

Do not ever start a sentence with “At least”, trust me it won’t end well. Don’t say “at least you have another child” or “at least you are young enough to get pregnant again”

Do not ever speak for my child. Do not say “Hayley would not want you to be sad all the time” “Hayley would want you to be happy” Using our children to put pressure on us is just wrong. You don’t know any of that. Hayley was one of the most emotionally intelligent people I have ever met in my entire life. She would understand that I am going to be sad all the time at the same time she would understand if something makes me feel happy too.

Again, because this is a big one, don’t ask how you can help. I won’t always know that answer. A grieving person doesn’t know right away what they need, they just are trying to take the next breath. Be specific as possible. Remember that most of the favors and support stop after about 3 months but we need help and support for so much longer

Try not to make generalizations like “you are so strong”. You may mean it as a compliment and sometimes it does feel that way, but more often it means I am functioning well on the outside and now I feel like I can’t let you know how bad I am doing on the inside because then you won’t think I am so strong. What is even worse is saying “I don’t know how you do it. I could never be as a strong as you. If it was me I would just curl into a ball, I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed. If it was me I wouldn’t be able to function at all.” What I hear is that I am grieving wrong or not enough. If I am doing “well” I must not have loved my child as much as you evidently love yours. If I get out of bed that day I am not grieving enough or I didn’t love her more. Trust me, you don’t know what you are capable of until you have absolutely zero choice. I remember telling both my kids at different times to try to make them not risk their lives and make good choices by telling them “if something happened to you I would die”. Yikes, talk about Mom guilt. But I felt this way. I still feel that death for me would be so much easier than feeling this pain every day. But you will find a way to be “strong” whatever that looks like. If you have another child you still have to be Mom. If you don’t get out of bed and go to work, you don’t get a paycheck and you can’t pay your mortgage. Are you going to let that happen to your family? You will be that strong. It is not a contest, Karen. Don’t make it one.

Do not be silent. The thing that has helped me the most over the last 3 years has been all of the simple support from so many people. More than I could ever count, more than I could ever say thank you for. The things that have kept me going are the responses I get from Facebook posts, or blog posts. The comments and notes. But not just that, the random text or message. Hey I was just thinking of you today. Hey, I was just thinking about Hayley today, I really miss her. This happened to me today and it reminded me of the time Hayley and I…. I wish I had known Hayley, she sounds amazing. I hope you and Scott and Henry are doing the best you can. Even an emoji or a heart is such a lift, such a feeling of not being alone. Feeling alone is one of the hardest symptoms of grief.

Be Kind. Be Funny. Be Real. Be Empathetic. Be Honest. Be Aware. Be Open Minded. #belikehayley