When you clean your life up the best you can.
When you have moved further from where you are in your life right now, people will say whatever they want and you won't pay any attention at all because you don't live there anymore.
The feelings you have are yours, they are in reponse to what someone says or does. What they say or do is theirs.
Do you ever wonder how there could be so many people on your side, but that one will say or do whatever and it wrecks your mind and day. That's because somewhere inside you, you believe there is some truth there, forcing you to deal with the suspect feelings you still have about yourself and your choices so far.
You are fantastically brave beyond your years and have endured much. There are two ways to look at that statement.
From the place you always have or....jump ahead to a new place and practice it from there.
All people have lived nightmares of some sort. We can't understand them all. There are people that choose not to not to do the work it takes inside themselves to make this change. There are as many reasons as there are people. We have to allow people to make the choices they need to wether we judge it to be a good one or not.
Thank you God for not letting me live their nightmare and thank you God for relieving mine for today. Please help me to know when to help someone who suffers and when to let them make their own choices. Please relieve me from my bondage of self that I might not judge another so I don't react with feelings that are contrary to the knowledge that I am capable, loving and forgiving. I understand with these atributes I am capable of doing miracles in my life and for others. Aho
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Friday, April 25, 2014
I'm writing off 2008 as the worst year ever
It has been along time since I have written anything anywhere. I have run out of words in the attempt to feel anything. The last five years have been hard to get through. In 2008 my husband of one year and I had just bought a house. Everyone seemed happy enough. He started coming home from work tired. Sleeping more and more. I guess I knew something was wrong, but I was a firm believer in whatever happens, happens. He and I seemed to be getting further and further apart so I suggested counseling. I found out in the interim that he had run up his credit card bills and would not let me know the extent. He said it was his money and could do what it whatever he wanted. The first session went well. The second one never came.
The next week one of my daughters called panicked to tell me that her younger sister of fourteen had been pulled out of the bath tub and the paramedics had been working on her and that I should come. I called my husband from work to meet me at the hospital. I asked him not to call her older sister since she was pregnant. I didn't want to upset her without knowing anything. I asked him to call her husband so he could pick her up and bring her. I knew, left to her own devices, she would jump in the car and drive herself.
I was at work with my youngest who I had picked up earlier school because he had been sick. The kids were able to come to work with me on days like that until school was out for the others and work was done. My husband had already got to the hospital and was waiting for me. They let us in and we looked onto her lifeless body. He looked at me holding me close trying to reassure me. "It's going to be alright", he said. I remember looking at him in the ER and saying out loud to him, "I don't think we are getting out of this one honey."
She had been living with her dad and her step mom since she was three. She was now fourteen. Her doctor for the last year were telling us she was fine, but she had developed color blindness. I had never heard of such a thing as people developing color blindness just people who were born with it. I scoured the Internet and books constantly, but really no answers. The few I did see made no sense. They just didn't fit. The doctor would not speak to me personally and was refusing my request to give her a simple blood test. Her dad and step mother appeared to be fine with his conclusion that she was perfectly normal. I was getting more and more frustrated with the lot of them. I did finally get take her to an eye doctor that diagnosed her with hysterical color blindness. I had never heard of such a thing, but I looked into it finding more of a match than anything else I had found. The alternative was multiple sclerosis and other horrible things. I took it. They never got the counseling he prescribed. Hanna was frustrated about the diagnosis demanding she was not crazy. Now she was lying there on a respirator.
We sat waiting for the ER doctor to tell us what we already feared. While we sat there I was told the story of why we were there. She had been home alone with her little sister and had decided to take a bath. Her step mom said she could count the times on one hand that she had ever taken a bath. She said she had been at the store and was almost home. She received a call from her youngest that Hanna had been in the bathroom for some time. She wanted to go outside. She wanted to ask Hanna, but she was in the tub and would not answer her. The door to the room had a sticky door that she was unable to open. Her mom said she was around the corner so she gave her permission to go outside and she would be right home. She then said she came home to pull her out of the tub. She talked about how slippery she was and she kept vomiting water. It just kept coming out. I wanted to be sick myself right there.
Sara was right behind her step mom. She explained that the ambulance had passed them on their way home. She knew just about everyone in the small town and hoped whoever it was, was okay. When she pulled up she saw them in the front yard thinking her step mom was the victim since she had high blood pressure. She walked into her worst nightmare. Her sister splayed out on the floor naked with the paramedics working feverishly on her. One of them being their neighbor who lived behind them.
My husband I missed the next counseling appointment. He began drinking and I found out he had been abusing his prescription medication for some time now. We added to that list after this incident, anti anxiety medications. He was helpless and I was homicidal at best. I had no energy to fight for him or with him on his demons.
She was moved to a critical care children's hospital from the initial ER. I rode over on the ambulance with her. It was a somber ride arriving to the next ER. It was rush hour and the traffic was horrible, but we finally arrived. While she was being transferred to her room I waited in the hallway for everyone to show up. One by one they came. When I saw her the next time the gravity was weighing heavy. She was heaving in air every few seconds. The doctor had explained her brain was trying to restore normal breathing. It was a purely instinctive act. Tubes and needles were everywhere. Her thighs, arms and wrists. Her eyes were closed. Water was coming from the tube that ran down her throat. It was a terrible scene. I was afraid to touch her. She looked like someone else's child.
Her sister and her had many friends in the little town they lived in. There were young kids everywhere crying. They were bringing cards and letters of encouragement for her so her miracle would happen. Her mom and dad were members of a church in town. They were in the hallway praying loudly. It was chaos. I sat on the bench in the children's intensive unit as people two by two went in to see her always coming out crying hard. Her boyfriend on the floor sobbing. Teachers had come to visit ending up in the hallway counseling kids. Her two best friends were her older sisters Amanda and Sara. They went in coming out smiling thinking they had a break through with her. They had been playing music in her room. Her blood pressure had sky rocketed. The nurse threw them out. They were trying to stabilize their and the music wasn't helping in their estimation. I just continued to watch people come and go. All I could think was, Fourteen year old kids don't drown in the tub."
The doctor held a meeting towards the end of the day for all the adults. I guess there was so many of us they needed a big room. Moms, dads, grandparents, nurses and the doctor. He seemed very irritated explaining that fourteen year old kids just don't drown in the tub. He was doing allot of tests yet and he was looking for any answers he could find for our circumstances. He was almost yelling. I concurred with what seemed a very loud, "Yeah, tell them. I have been trying to tell them." The rage was coming and I was trying to keep it down. Her dad addressed me from across the room. "Do you think it has something to do with her color blindness?" My cynic was having murderous thoughts and all I could say was, "Well, I guess we will never know now, will we. Maybe we will get a blood test now." The doctor asked questions about her history. "Did she smoke?" We both answered contradictory answers at the very same time. I knew she had been playing with it the last year. "Did she drink?" Same thing happened. "Has she had sex?" I hesitated. They of course had no clue. The doctor looked at me waiting for the answer. Just that day I had found out from her sisters that she had been with her boyfriend for the first time. I told him I would speak to them later if they wanted to know anything. The doctor suggested another meeting in the morning at 9:30. Hopefully they would know more.
Being there was like being wrapped in a cocoon. It got light and dark out side, but time seemed to stand still. The crowd thinned out until there wasn't anyone but my husband and I. I had sent the kids off to relatives. We had three new puppies at home. I asked him to go make sure the puppies were fed and taken out. I was alone with her. I could not believe I was the only parent that was there. For months I had argued we needed more tests and doctors. Her dad and I had yelled at each other him calling me over reacting and hypochondriac. They called ahead to doctors to warn them about me and refused to let me use their insurance to take her myself. They thought I was such a problem. I'm not sure when it all went so wrong. My ex had told me once he thought it was because she was jealous of me, but that never made sense to me at all. She would schedule them so with so many events it was difficult to ever see them. I would get mad and get demanding and they made me pay with not being able to see them for months. I went every time they called me. I had thought there would be time as they got older it seemed I was getting more time with them. Now, sat at the foot of her bed with her feet against my cheeks telling her how sorry I was.
My husband returned with food and coffee. He said,"I new you wouldn't leave, so I brought it to you." I only drank coffee and ate protein with no carbohydrates on purpose for those few days to be able to tolerate the long hours of being awake. I knew if I ate the wrong thing I would wear out faster. That first night was long and hard. The whole ordeal was playing over and over in my head. No one word sounded like it was possible no matter how many times I went over it in my head. I just got angrier and angrier.
The nurses came and went. They would ask me to leave the room at first. The hours drug on and soon they were having me help do little things. I got three hours sleep that night. Her body fought a fever the first night. I watched them battle it back with medicine and cool blankets and a fan. Finally, as the sun came up, they got control of the fever. They explained it was from all the foreign material that had gotten into her lungs. While she was under water her brain had suffered from oxygen deprivation. It was really swollen. Her body was trying to heal, but it was overwhelmed.
The nurse that night was a tall blond lady. She was always smiling and asked questions that had nothing to do with our current circumstances. She always listened and gave good answers to my questions. She would put me to work. I had to keep calling them in because she was not able to swallow and fluids would come out the side of the tube. They needed to be suctioned out. She showed me how so she could continue with more pressing work. She may not know what a blessing it was for me to have even the smallest thing to do. It was hard to just sit there, but I couldn't imagine being anywhere else.
The next morning there was a new doctor and crew at the meeting. Everyone showed up rested and showered. The kids were showing up again. They brought signs, cards and a stuffed Nemo fish so she would know she was loved by them. It was really touching. We went back into the room. Her sister wanted to come, but her dad didn't think it was a good idea. She was really angry shouting, "I'm her sister and part of this family. I should be able to come in." She finally collapsed by the door in protest. It felt as though we were going back into the den of a lion.
The doctor started out telling us they had run many tests and they were completely unable to find any answers for her drowning. Her drug screen was clean. No medicines were found at all. He could not find any trauma. He took some more history. He then brought up something I hadn't even thought about. Organ donation. My head lifted as I had been holding it in my hands from the start of the meeting. I had already known nothing good was going to come of it. Just looking at everyone made me ill. He told us he wanted our permission to start preparing her for the fact she was not going to make it and it really does help others. I sat up straight then. He said it was ok either way, but her lungs were falling apart and we needed to make our minds up. He said it was up to her dad and I. We needed to talk about it. I told her dad we should go talk. I got up and headed for the door. They all started to get up and my husband piped up, "Um, I think he meant just the two of them". They sat back down as we left the room.
We made our way out side. There was a little garden with very few people. We sat across from each other. I had no idea what to say except, "How the hell did we ever make it here?" The meaning didn't escape him. "I'm not sure", he answered. He was so sad. He talked about how the world had lost out on so much with her. She was brilliant really. She had been a TAG student. I was always surprised how smart she was. The perfect blend of brilliance and practicality. I asked him what he thought about the organ donation. He agreed that was the one thing that made sense. We usually agreed on most things except when she was involved. She hardly ever disagreed to my face, but if I was on the phone or hearing it from the girls it was a different story. I could see her standing in the window above us watching us make our decision. He did ask one thing. Not today. He just wanted to wait one more day. "She is in bad shape. You know that don't you?" I asked him. He knew. He just couldn't do it today. "Just wait one more day", He asked me. "ok", I agreed. "One more day".
He hated hospitals. I will for the life of me never understand how he was able to go when the girls were being born. Once, he broke his finger in the wood pile. A giant log rolled off the top right onto his finger. He was just about crying, rolling all around. I finally talked him into going to the hospital. He told me he had done well until the nurse showed him the x-ray of where the tip of his finger was broken. He said, "it was a good thing he was a guy, because I fainted right there". He had caught him before he could hurt himself again.
We had gone back upstairs to the meeting. We told them what we were thinking and they said that was fine. They said for everyday that she is here we would be paying for unless she was okayed for the transplant. He said, "we are going one more day. We'll see how she is in the morning. They looked at me. I just nodded in agreement.
They were still only letting two people at a time in to visit. I sat in the waiting room again as the people went in and out of the room just waiting to get back into the room. I spent most of my time the first night at the base of her bed with my head between her feet. There were tubes and needles everywhere. I wanted to hold her hand, but that was almost impossible under the circumstances.
There were fewer people today. I stayed in the lobby so they could visit. Sitting and watching everyone come and go made it seem like someone else's life. How did we all get to this point? How does something like this happen? Not one answer had come since this ordeal began. The numbness was still there. The only thing, in hindsight, that kept me going was the child in the bed and the need to do whatever was needed to make her more comfortable.
Soon, there was no one again, but her and I. My husband had been making his trips back and forth to the house and out for food. It was Thanksgiving today. One of the families that had a child there previously had brought a turkey dinner with the fixings for the nurses and families having to spend the day there. We made our plates and went back to the room. My husband went home that night to stay close to the dogs and make sure all was well there. I sat up most of the night with Hanna again with my head nestled between her feet. About one o'clock I decided to sleep. Just for a few hours. I asked them to wake me up right away if anything changed.
About three o'clock I jolted awake. I had no idea why until I heard her breathing had changed. She wasn't heaving anymore. Her breathing seemed peaceful working along with the respirator. I'm sure I seemed irritated when I asked why the nurse hadn't let me know. She looked at me telling me, "It just happened and then you wolk up." It seemed like defeat was coming all to fast at that moment. It was a sad moment. I just sat with her. I walked myself up to the nurses station and asked if I could take a shower. I sat with the warm water running over me crying. I knew it would soon be over. Part of me didn't want it to be and I felt guilty.
We gathered for our last meeting. We were all there quiet this time waiting for the inevitable. Her sister was outside with her friends. We all wanted answers that never came. The doctor sat and told us the cat scan had showed nothing. He wanted to know if she had ever had a seizure. The only answer we agreed on this whole time. No, never. She was healthy. Had hardly ever been ill. She had better than average eyesight. She was a brilliant student. She had just gotten the braces she wanted for some time. That was all there was to report. Basically, nothing.
The doctor wanted to know about the organ donation reminding us that as soon as the papers were signed that the hospital would be taking over the payments for her care. I looked at her dad. I don't think he looked up at this point, but nodded his approval. "OK then, the nurse will bring the papers for you both to sign. We won't be needing another meeting, but if you have any questions you can call the hospital," We signed the papers. I asked about the kids just outside the door. "They have been coming everyday. They deserve some kind of answer, don't they?" We decided to tell them she had some kind of heart failure. They decided I should tell them. I gathered them all up and told them what we thought we knew. They were devastated. I let them know we were also.
This was the last night. I had asked my husband to bring me some things from home the first night. I knew the funeral home would be washing her hair. It hadn't been brushed since they pulled her from the tub. There was the matter of plucking her eyebrows. I spent about an hour making sure I got them straight. Her nails were cut. Her skin looked strangely clear. Eventually we would need to put some makeup on her. I wanted her to look nice for her funeral.
There were several of the kids that came that night. The nurses came to the room to let me know she had some visitors. I was shocked and came out to see two kids in the hallway. They just wanted to drop off a card for her. I told them she didn't really look that great with all the tubes and stuff. One thought he might want to see her the other was not so much wanting to. The other changed his mind. I told them I was proud of them, but I needed to get back. They were planning to take her for the transplant surgery at 9:30 in the morning.
The transplant team sends you a counselor as soon as the papers are signed. She was a typical counselor slash mental health person. Not that that is a bad thing. I just have no idea how to discuss anything with one. They have no input usually like a friend would. A friend would hang with you and you would feel it. Sometimes you have to hold them back. That kind of interaction is what I love and is grounding to me. My counselor was a good woman, but I found the veteran nurses much more help. They would be doing everything they could to help all of you leave there in the best condition possible, no matter what the outcome was going to be. Even if they knew it wasn't going to end well they let me be a part of it. I already knew, but the end doesn't come until the end and no one leaves until that moment comes. It sounds funny to say, but I didn't want to be anywhere else.
I was tired but still living off the adrenalin. Honestly, I'm still not positive of the order of things as it all seemed like one really long nightmare I wasn't able to wake up from. I had spent much of the rest of my time with her just touching her as much as I could. I also double checked her eyebrows and little grooming issues. The nurses gave me a little box for trinkets to remember her. They asked me if I wanted a locket of hair. I think we almost shaved the back of her head. I made sure to get some for her sisters and brothers also. With there being five of them I wasn't sure if I had enough. I found myself asking for more, but they never said no to me.
That moment finally came when they came for her. My sister in law and husband had shared the last couple of hours with me. We had taken some pictures with her which I keep hidden on my computer. I have some back up files with my regular back up files. When that moment came when they needed me to let go of her feet, it was the hardest thing I had to ever do in this life. It actually took a couple of times. I knew I would never see her warm again. It was final. That is the moment I let her go.
Finally, tears. Anger. There was a anger that rose in me that frightened me all the way to my soul. I really wanted to kill even though I had no idea who to kill. My mind went from fact to fact of everything that I had heard. I mulled over every word one by one trying to figure out why I was here. Why we were all burying a girl who was just coming to her budding youth. I had asked the nurses earlier in the day about who to talk to with the sheriff's office and if they had anything to say about it. She was looking at me horrified. "We didn't find anything in her system. She had no injuries. She had no defensive wounds. We have no reason at this point to get them that involved", she said. "Well, they are but there is nothing to work on right now. I'm sorry." The words went around my brain not really sinking in even though I knew I heard them. I just stood there looking at her half nodding and half shaking my head. "They are going to take her for an autopsy just as soon as the operation is done. Wait and see what they have to say." She gave me a card to the hospital. "If you have any questions and want to talk to the police just call them." With every detail bouncing around in my head with grief like I had never felt gripped by homicidal thoughts it was all I could do just to walk and talk. I never did call them. I would wait for the autopsy findings to come back.
My husband and sister took me home. It had taken longer than they thought to get everything ready for the surgery so half the day was gone before we left the hospital. It was a quiet ride home. I had no words. They were all gone. Getting home was empty and sad. I loved our new house. I loved us. With all our problems we were still OK in my mind until right now. The kids were still gone, but we were expecting them back tomorrow. I felt nothing but exhausted but my brain all the way in the back still looking for answers in a sea of questions. I sat down on my sofa with tears flowing. They just fell like water, but I was frozen. My sister in law and my husband had lost their brother years ago, but had never really gotten a final reason why either. He had died from a gunshot wound to the head in his apartment, but no one knew how it happened and never found out. She was telling something about that and it hurts bad now but as time goes by it does get better. I could barely heard her. She pulled my hair so she could see me and it hurt. She sat next to me with her arm around me and my skin hurt. My soul hurt and I had no idea what to do to make it better or if it ever would.
I went to sleep next to my husband that night with the stuffed fish that was brought to her by one of her friends while she was in the hospital. I remember crying myself to sleep in his arms. He was in allot of pain also. She was his favorite. I think when you are a step parent you do have favorites. He had taken her to the gym once with her best friend a couple of earlier and they all had a blast. He told me they had sped around in the Mustang convertible which I had named whiplash. He had so much fun her and wasn't even mad they spilled a 32 oz. pop in his backseat. He was always using her quote, "If you are bored, than you are probably a boring person. Every chance he got he would take her with him to the gym. "You should see her face when I kick the heavy bag with her hanging on it. She loves that," he would tell me. His son and her where the same age. They would rough house all the time so hard I wondered how either of them never got hurt both of them sparing.They would fall onto the couch laughing. She had taken Taekwondo since she was little. She had no problem holding her own. I could feel his pain now. Lying there was the only relief I had felt in days. It was almost like his pain canceled mine out.
The next day the kids came back. I was still on the couch. There weren't allot of words. They did have allot of questions. I had no answers to give them. I have no idea what happened that day. I spent allot of my idle time sitting going over facts still and staring. I was starting to think I would have to back to work. Work. How do people do anything after losing a child? I knew at that moment I could never work again. I couldn't even get off the couch. How could I do housework? The kids had school coming up. We lived out of the district and I was taking them everyday. The puppies we had just gotten wanted to be played with. I even hurt my skin to touch them.
We had gotten to the business of planning the funeral. We all met at the funeral home. No one really spoke to each other. My husband had been to the doctor and he was prescribed some medicine for anxiety at that time. He was fairly tipsy. It wasn't just obvious to me. They asked about how we wanted her head stone to read. What color casket. They needed her social security number. Everyone looked at each other. I said, "I have it." My husband left the room to go to the bathroom. Her dad asked what was up with him. I told him, "He loved her very much whether you believe that or not. He is on medicine that the doctor gave him. Leave him alone." He came back and we continued. The news papers would be in touch. The plot was going to be given to her dad by his mother. The family had bought up a bunch of plots in a historical graveyard years ago. Her great grandparents and her dads dad were buried there. Then there was the cost taking care of her body and other burial expenses. Everyone looked at me. I looked down and said, "I don't have any money. Things are not good there right now." My husband chimed in, "I'll just put it on the credit card." I looked up at him stunned. "No. I'm pretty sure that's not an option," I said sternly. "Yeah. I think I got enough," he said. "Stop it!" I yelled at him making everyone jump in their seats. There was that anger. "Ok", said his mom. "I can loan the money. We can worry about the payments later on." That was the end of that.
I was such a mess and it was getting worse inside of me. Somehow I had gotten the responsibility to do the obituary for our local paper. I suspected my husband. I was surprised and unprepared when they called. I didn't find out what I had told them until it came out in the paper. It's funny to me now. I was pretty baffled by what I had told them then. I didn't think it was that bad, but it wasn't as good as it could have been. I could tell the tensions were rising. I found out later it wasn't what was said but the order everyone was mentioned. They also didn't like the fact my husbands family was mentioned. I didn't want to get into it with anyone since I wasn't able to get the rage under control. They had all been this way the whole time I knew them.
We had to got to her church to do more planning the next day. I had done less planning for her older sisters wedding. We talked about the funeral and what he was going to say and when. We talked about the memorial with the kids. Ideas for that were needed. My husband came up with writing things we want to say to her and letting them go to float away. The kids had some songs they were going to sing. I was going to make some fliers. I knew my work would let me, but if not I could get them made up some at the print shop. Honestly, it was allot of blah, blah, blah to me. I was getting overwhelmed. The pastor made a point to ask me how I was when it was over. I told him I had no idea. He said, "You know she was a very nice girl and had been very happy. I thought she looked allot like her dad until today."
The girls talked me into going to her dads house for a bit the next day. We arrived in the afternoon for lunch, but no one was really hungry. The only reason I went was because she asked. They had company and were planning for the memorial they were putting together at her school. They were planning to put her in the ground right before that on a Friday. There was some pleasantries and some talking. I still had no idea what was being said from one minute to the next or what was going to come out of my mouth. The less I said the less likely it was I would get myself into trouble.
All of us adults and the girls were sitting at the kitchen table talking. Her step mom told us that no one had been able to use that bathroom yet and how glad she was there was two bathrooms in the house. Her dad had come home that first day to clean it up, but she couldn't go back inside again. From what I understood her sister had been staying away from home until today also. She was trying to be brave and announced she was going to go in there. We kept talking. After a few minutes she came out excited telling us she found her IPOD still in the bathroom. Her step moms' eyes brightened up, "I was wondering what happened to that." Her sister then announce we could listen to the last song she listened to as she fiddled with it. "I need speakers", she said as she ran off again towards the bathroom. When she came back she set everything up. It was a song I hadn't heard yet. To this day I can't figure out how they find the great music they do. The song "Fall for you" by Secondhand Serenade. The lyrics shocked me and took my breath away. We were all instantly disturbed and the tears flowed. I left that day empty inside, but that song lodged deep in my psyche playing over and over.
It seems that we are a society of occasions and ceremonies. It becomes more apparent when there are extremes in life. Weddings, births and deaths. One of the things I had heard over the last ten years where I had been working was when someone you love dies, you cut your hair. I had blonde hair that had grown all the way down to my butt. I loved my hair. I needed a grief ceremony. I decided to cut the hair. My husband said it was okay as long as he got to do it, and he got to keep it. I was okay with that. We cut it that night. I was surprised how well it worked. The release of something I loved on purpose helped with the letting go of the person I had lost to by accident.
They had decided they didn't want to have a viewing. I was shocked as it was a bit of a tradition. Being raised with some Irish tradition I couldn't comprehend at least a viewing if not an all out party. Her dad and step mom were already against anyone except family attending the funeral and were not having anything to do with a wake. I know so many of the kids from her school wanted to go and say goodbye. That is basically how we got the memorial for her at her school. Her sister and many of the kids she knew were just broken over her death. I decided I was having a wake even if it was just me and my kids. I let her older sister know when and where. If she wanted to come she was more than welcome.
She was very proud of being part Irish. I found out later she had exceptional pieces of Irish music on her IPOD mixed in with her rock, Barry Manilow and other music. She was going to learn how to bake and open a bakery in Ireland. That was her big dream. I had bought her a book on how to decorate cakes just a few months earlier at the Barnes and Noble we would always all go hang out at during visits. She was just so excited about growing up and getting on with life.
My kids went with me to the funeral home that day including my oldest. When we got there there was just the five of us. Her older sister was going to meet us there and warned me she was going to be bringing a few more of her friends. I was relieved she was coming. As we piled out of the car we noticed her coming around the corner. Behind her were a flock of adolescent kids. It was a small country school where everyone knew everyone else. They had come to formally say good bye. Many of them I had seen in school programs over the years and late at night as she was lying in the hospital bed.
I think the funeral director was a bit surprised to see the turn out. I still remember her smiling as we showed up for our viewing appointment with stuff to drink (pop of course) and snacks. We had a great wake that day. They danced and listened to her IPOD music. We checked out all the clothes they had put her in. She loved Converse and she had the shirt I bought for her. It was black with the big white Converse logo on the front. Her favorite jeans. Mixed matched socks and her Converse shoes she had colored herself. Her older sister decided she would be horrified if she went in the ground with no makeup on. We dumped out our purses and made sure her makeup was done right. Towards the end we shared ours thoughts and memories. My husband took lots of pictures for me. I learned that night she was right about her friends. She used to always say,"My friends a thousand times better than yours." Well, she was right.
I asked my boss to help me with the fliers. When drove into work that night it was like driving home. Work had been such a refuge for so long. I longed to be there. Maybe so everything would be back to normal. I had become terrified of breaking there and not being able to pull myself back together. I knew it was coming, but was trying to put it off. As I walked into our office she turned and gasped. "Oh honey, you cut your hair. Well, it looks good," she said in almost a whisper holding my cheeks. We got down to the business of fliers. I laughed for the first time in days sprinkled with tears and stories. I felt guilty for not being there. I loved and appreciated her more than ever. If she ever reads this I hope she knows she more of a sister than anything. I have never loved another woman that much, ever. I used to joke around with her that she should divorce her husband and marry me. She would make Icky faces and pretend to be choking, but I know she loves me. While I was there I picked up some flowers from a friend of mine who sells them and gave them to us for free. There were buckets and buckets of flowers. I have no words for these people. They are the greatest.
The day finally arrived. They always do. They begin like most others with the sunrise and end after the sun sets. I knew it was going to be an all day affair. There was much so much to do. We spent the morning wrapping the flowers into little bouquets people could put on her grave. I had gone to the grocery store for some things for her wake a couple of days earlier and had come across some purple orchids in the lobby. I called her sister. "Didn't I hear she loved purple orchids?", I asked her. "Yeah", she answered, "I have no idea if there is such a thing though." "Well, I just found some, I told her. I'll get them." I was as surprised as anyone. I had never heard of or knew they came in purple.
The burial was first. The kids and I arrived at the grave site. We unpacked the flowers and made our way to the small crowd. Some people were there and more were straggling in as we stood around. It was a surreal scene. I found people I knew and thanked them for coming. Her dad and step mom were not happy because some of the people who came weren't family, but they were my closest friends. I was glad that some of the kids that were at the wake were able to come. I remember smiling because I had no idea what else to do. I hadn't gone to too many funerals in my life. I saw the hole dug the poles across so they could rest her coffin on it for the ceremony. The hole was draped so you couldn't see down in the hole, but it was evident but the huge pile of dirt not too far away from the site.
I'm not sure who decided it was time, but someone called for the pole bearers. They lined up next to her casket lifting her up and stood there for a moment. Then they slowly began to walk towards the hole in the ground. I was amazed how people who have never met could walk in unison like they have done this before. They gently rested her on the poles across her grave. They set some chairs up next to her casket. Her dad and step mom sat in two of them. I slowly walked to the casket and froze. I had no idea what to do next. Her step mom turned to me patting the chair. "Come sit down Leetha." I sat down next to them staring in front of me. The pastor from her childhood church was lying her to rest that day. He was talking. I have no idea what he was saying. I sat while the tears flowed. I don't think I was making any noise myself as all I could hear was the pastors mumbled words.
All of a sudden everyone was milling toward where I was sitting and her dad and step mom stood up. I don't remember much else about being there except looking around thinking it was a beautiful setting and besides being chilly out with a light sprinkle of rain, it was a very nice day. People were standing in lines to put the flowers my friend gave us onto her casket. Her sisters and best friend had cut the purple orchids off the plant and placed them right on top. The yellow and purple complimented each other. As people placed their flowers saying their good byes they began to leave.
There was several hours before we were to go to the program the kids from her school. It was due to start after school was let out so there was no interference with school itself. I expected a moderate turn out since these were kids she had gone to school with most of her life. We decided since there was so much time until it started we would head back to the house to wait. The kids needed to eat anyhow. We gathered together and decided who was going with who. We had to take two cars since there were so many of us.
When we got back to the house everyone was encouraged to eat. I had no idea how long the program was going to last and in the winter it gets dark early. I don't know about anyone else, but when it gets dark I have to have dinner. I made myself eat with the others. There was a lot of chatting among the kids about what they seen and hear today so far. It seemed like time was standing still, but it was already time to go. The school was about an hour away and traffic was fierce that time of day.
On our way there I got caught in traffic. It's a good thing I know all the back roads. If I hadn't of I would have been very late. As we were coming close her sister called asking us where we were. "We are almost there." I told her. "traffic is really bad." "Hurry mom. They want to start without you. I'm fighting with them now. They have to start soon." "I'm coming as fast as I can, honey" I reassured her. Finding a parking space was another story. There were so many cars. We quickly parked and ran for the auditorium. We had been there for the girls programs over the years so we knew where it was. As we walked into the room I gasped. I had no idea so many people would be there. The room was packed! There were kids and adults everywhere. I think the whole town was there. I thought I was going to slip in, but the whole room erupted in applause as I walked in. I think they were glad they could begin the program. It was beautiful. I loved those people so much for coming.
The pastor again was talking to everyone. I was trying hard to hear him. He said a prayer, gave time for people to say a word or two. They had the photo gallery that played with the song, "Time of your life." It was very sweet. I finally broke down watching the photos. It was just such a long day. Then the pastor introduced the choir. I knew they were going to sing as they had been sitting on the choir bleachers the whole time. They stood up and began to sing. I have no idea what songs they sing, but watching them was beautiful. They sung their hearts out they whole time crying. My heart just broke for them. In the midst of these kids was her best friend. I think she was singing extra loud and crying extra hard. They had been best friends forever. They were inseparable until now.
I wish I was able to describe this scene adequately. There were kids literally everywhere. In the bleachers. In the isles. There were chairs staged for many to sit in. They were filled mostly with adults and small children. There were so many lovely innocent tears shed that day. I found out later that they had tagged the city park with her initials. Her Facebook and Myspace was filled with lovely words from people she knew. I knew that day she had made her mark on her little world. She was loved and missed by many.
At the end of the program there was some time set aside for some people to say a few words. I had no words yet. During the photo gallery I finally lost it. It was a very long day for all of us. Her oldest sister stepped up to say a few words. Unlike many, she had to. It would be in her heart forever like a fever if she hadn't. I had wondered if she would be able to and was glad she had found the strength.
The kids were dismissed to go set balloons loose with their personal message. I wonder sometimes where they all ended up. Maybe in a farmers field somewhere. What a sight that would have been in the morning. I didn't go. I was surrounded by those who wanted to tell me how sorry they were. I felt surrounded. Caged. I smiled through the tears and kept telling myself they needed to say what was in their heart. We all needed healing and it seemed very, very far away.
I gathered the kids together and herded them to the car. We said goodbye to her sister. It was hard to know if she was going to okay. I knew her heart was broken. Her sister was always her best friend. Driving away was hard. The little kids were quiet in back for a few miles but then started to chatter. It was good to hear them talking about it in the back of the car the way they would always discuss things at the end of the day on the way home from school. Many a plan was hatched and problem solved in the back of that car. It was dark already. The oncoming headlights hurt my swollen eyes. My husband was up ahead blazing the was home like a beacon so I didn't get lost in the haze in my mind.
Getting home I put the kids to bed and sat up. Her sister had given me her Ipod and I played her music over and over. I found it comforting snuggled up to her fish from the hospital. I cried. It felt like the end of something really big. A finally. I saw no light at the end of the tunnel. I had never believed a day like this would come. I am one of six and to this day we are all still alive. I felt like a failure. One of my children had died. I was the mom and she was dead. I wanted to believe there was an end to it and kept telling myself that it would pass, but I had no idea when that might happen. The rage was still there and kept trying to escape from me. I was afraid of it. It was like having another person inside me trying to control me. I didn't feel like dying because a part of me already felt dead. I had no idea what to do next so I just cried.
I have no recollection of the few days after that. I think we were all in shock really. I remember it snowing allot that year. I had no thoughts about going to work or doing anything. The days were empty and flat. My husband had gone face first into the drugs. I couldn't imagine things getting worse. We got into a fight about money. He was give a small amount of money from his work at the funeral. I thought it should go to her sister, but he thought it was his. The rage was in my face and I threw him out. It was blood money to me and I didn't want to have any of it. He was gone several days. I couldn't handle all the loss and called him up. I begged him to come home. I had fallen into the black hole and felt like I was dying. I needed help. Even in his condition he was willing. He came home and held me for days. I have never forgotten that act of kindness. If I was me I'm not sure I would have. I think he was a better person than I felt I could have been in that moment. It was the beginning of him coming and going. Eventually we got a divorce, but I have never forgotten that time when he saved my life.
Christmas came that year. We tried to make it as normal as we could for the little ones. They were so small and had so many hard questions. They would come up with scenarios of "How it could have happened." The final outcome of the autopsy would become "drowning". I'll never be OK with that any more than I would be someone becoming color blind. She was missed a whole bunch that day. I thought of re wrapping the present she had gotten me last year for under the tree, but thought it might traumatize everyone else. It was a ceramic toilet with a colorful blue pattern. Her sister had advised her against it, but she gave it to me. I'm a mom. Come on. You could give me anything and I would be the happiest person on earth. I still had it. Probably always will.
I finally went back to work. It took two months and some days, but I just wolk up knowing it was time. They had called me several times asking how long it would be. All I could tell them is I could not do my job sobbing everyday. It might scare the people I serve. My husband lost his job months after she was laid to rest. The company all but shut their doors because of the recession. They were directly affected by the housing market. We would have lost our house anyway. We all learned many things that year, but I think I will write the whole thing off as the worst year ever. Even with my father passing five years before this I have never know grief like that ever. The deaths of people we knew came in quick succession that year. It was a pool of tears it seemed all the time. There were times where I would be driving along and my phone would ring. It would be one of my daughters howling and crying. I would sit and talk with them on the side of the road or a parking lot. My youngest daughter turned fourteen this year. She said just before she blew out her candles,"Well, I am officially older then she was before she died." It took us by surprise.
Everyone was right about one thing. I guess I knew that even when they said it. Time is the best medicine. After all, it's what I would say to someone going though the same thing. There was a couple other things I learned. Your memory will fail you in time. Take lots of pictures. And, everyone who breaths isn't necessarily alive.
The next week one of my daughters called panicked to tell me that her younger sister of fourteen had been pulled out of the bath tub and the paramedics had been working on her and that I should come. I called my husband from work to meet me at the hospital. I asked him not to call her older sister since she was pregnant. I didn't want to upset her without knowing anything. I asked him to call her husband so he could pick her up and bring her. I knew, left to her own devices, she would jump in the car and drive herself.
I was at work with my youngest who I had picked up earlier school because he had been sick. The kids were able to come to work with me on days like that until school was out for the others and work was done. My husband had already got to the hospital and was waiting for me. They let us in and we looked onto her lifeless body. He looked at me holding me close trying to reassure me. "It's going to be alright", he said. I remember looking at him in the ER and saying out loud to him, "I don't think we are getting out of this one honey."
She had been living with her dad and her step mom since she was three. She was now fourteen. Her doctor for the last year were telling us she was fine, but she had developed color blindness. I had never heard of such a thing as people developing color blindness just people who were born with it. I scoured the Internet and books constantly, but really no answers. The few I did see made no sense. They just didn't fit. The doctor would not speak to me personally and was refusing my request to give her a simple blood test. Her dad and step mother appeared to be fine with his conclusion that she was perfectly normal. I was getting more and more frustrated with the lot of them. I did finally get take her to an eye doctor that diagnosed her with hysterical color blindness. I had never heard of such a thing, but I looked into it finding more of a match than anything else I had found. The alternative was multiple sclerosis and other horrible things. I took it. They never got the counseling he prescribed. Hanna was frustrated about the diagnosis demanding she was not crazy. Now she was lying there on a respirator.
We sat waiting for the ER doctor to tell us what we already feared. While we sat there I was told the story of why we were there. She had been home alone with her little sister and had decided to take a bath. Her step mom said she could count the times on one hand that she had ever taken a bath. She said she had been at the store and was almost home. She received a call from her youngest that Hanna had been in the bathroom for some time. She wanted to go outside. She wanted to ask Hanna, but she was in the tub and would not answer her. The door to the room had a sticky door that she was unable to open. Her mom said she was around the corner so she gave her permission to go outside and she would be right home. She then said she came home to pull her out of the tub. She talked about how slippery she was and she kept vomiting water. It just kept coming out. I wanted to be sick myself right there.
Sara was right behind her step mom. She explained that the ambulance had passed them on their way home. She knew just about everyone in the small town and hoped whoever it was, was okay. When she pulled up she saw them in the front yard thinking her step mom was the victim since she had high blood pressure. She walked into her worst nightmare. Her sister splayed out on the floor naked with the paramedics working feverishly on her. One of them being their neighbor who lived behind them.
My husband I missed the next counseling appointment. He began drinking and I found out he had been abusing his prescription medication for some time now. We added to that list after this incident, anti anxiety medications. He was helpless and I was homicidal at best. I had no energy to fight for him or with him on his demons.
She was moved to a critical care children's hospital from the initial ER. I rode over on the ambulance with her. It was a somber ride arriving to the next ER. It was rush hour and the traffic was horrible, but we finally arrived. While she was being transferred to her room I waited in the hallway for everyone to show up. One by one they came. When I saw her the next time the gravity was weighing heavy. She was heaving in air every few seconds. The doctor had explained her brain was trying to restore normal breathing. It was a purely instinctive act. Tubes and needles were everywhere. Her thighs, arms and wrists. Her eyes were closed. Water was coming from the tube that ran down her throat. It was a terrible scene. I was afraid to touch her. She looked like someone else's child.
Her sister and her had many friends in the little town they lived in. There were young kids everywhere crying. They were bringing cards and letters of encouragement for her so her miracle would happen. Her mom and dad were members of a church in town. They were in the hallway praying loudly. It was chaos. I sat on the bench in the children's intensive unit as people two by two went in to see her always coming out crying hard. Her boyfriend on the floor sobbing. Teachers had come to visit ending up in the hallway counseling kids. Her two best friends were her older sisters Amanda and Sara. They went in coming out smiling thinking they had a break through with her. They had been playing music in her room. Her blood pressure had sky rocketed. The nurse threw them out. They were trying to stabilize their and the music wasn't helping in their estimation. I just continued to watch people come and go. All I could think was, Fourteen year old kids don't drown in the tub."
The doctor held a meeting towards the end of the day for all the adults. I guess there was so many of us they needed a big room. Moms, dads, grandparents, nurses and the doctor. He seemed very irritated explaining that fourteen year old kids just don't drown in the tub. He was doing allot of tests yet and he was looking for any answers he could find for our circumstances. He was almost yelling. I concurred with what seemed a very loud, "Yeah, tell them. I have been trying to tell them." The rage was coming and I was trying to keep it down. Her dad addressed me from across the room. "Do you think it has something to do with her color blindness?" My cynic was having murderous thoughts and all I could say was, "Well, I guess we will never know now, will we. Maybe we will get a blood test now." The doctor asked questions about her history. "Did she smoke?" We both answered contradictory answers at the very same time. I knew she had been playing with it the last year. "Did she drink?" Same thing happened. "Has she had sex?" I hesitated. They of course had no clue. The doctor looked at me waiting for the answer. Just that day I had found out from her sisters that she had been with her boyfriend for the first time. I told him I would speak to them later if they wanted to know anything. The doctor suggested another meeting in the morning at 9:30. Hopefully they would know more.
Being there was like being wrapped in a cocoon. It got light and dark out side, but time seemed to stand still. The crowd thinned out until there wasn't anyone but my husband and I. I had sent the kids off to relatives. We had three new puppies at home. I asked him to go make sure the puppies were fed and taken out. I was alone with her. I could not believe I was the only parent that was there. For months I had argued we needed more tests and doctors. Her dad and I had yelled at each other him calling me over reacting and hypochondriac. They called ahead to doctors to warn them about me and refused to let me use their insurance to take her myself. They thought I was such a problem. I'm not sure when it all went so wrong. My ex had told me once he thought it was because she was jealous of me, but that never made sense to me at all. She would schedule them so with so many events it was difficult to ever see them. I would get mad and get demanding and they made me pay with not being able to see them for months. I went every time they called me. I had thought there would be time as they got older it seemed I was getting more time with them. Now, sat at the foot of her bed with her feet against my cheeks telling her how sorry I was.
My husband returned with food and coffee. He said,"I new you wouldn't leave, so I brought it to you." I only drank coffee and ate protein with no carbohydrates on purpose for those few days to be able to tolerate the long hours of being awake. I knew if I ate the wrong thing I would wear out faster. That first night was long and hard. The whole ordeal was playing over and over in my head. No one word sounded like it was possible no matter how many times I went over it in my head. I just got angrier and angrier.
The nurses came and went. They would ask me to leave the room at first. The hours drug on and soon they were having me help do little things. I got three hours sleep that night. Her body fought a fever the first night. I watched them battle it back with medicine and cool blankets and a fan. Finally, as the sun came up, they got control of the fever. They explained it was from all the foreign material that had gotten into her lungs. While she was under water her brain had suffered from oxygen deprivation. It was really swollen. Her body was trying to heal, but it was overwhelmed.
The nurse that night was a tall blond lady. She was always smiling and asked questions that had nothing to do with our current circumstances. She always listened and gave good answers to my questions. She would put me to work. I had to keep calling them in because she was not able to swallow and fluids would come out the side of the tube. They needed to be suctioned out. She showed me how so she could continue with more pressing work. She may not know what a blessing it was for me to have even the smallest thing to do. It was hard to just sit there, but I couldn't imagine being anywhere else.
The next morning there was a new doctor and crew at the meeting. Everyone showed up rested and showered. The kids were showing up again. They brought signs, cards and a stuffed Nemo fish so she would know she was loved by them. It was really touching. We went back into the room. Her sister wanted to come, but her dad didn't think it was a good idea. She was really angry shouting, "I'm her sister and part of this family. I should be able to come in." She finally collapsed by the door in protest. It felt as though we were going back into the den of a lion.
The doctor started out telling us they had run many tests and they were completely unable to find any answers for her drowning. Her drug screen was clean. No medicines were found at all. He could not find any trauma. He took some more history. He then brought up something I hadn't even thought about. Organ donation. My head lifted as I had been holding it in my hands from the start of the meeting. I had already known nothing good was going to come of it. Just looking at everyone made me ill. He told us he wanted our permission to start preparing her for the fact she was not going to make it and it really does help others. I sat up straight then. He said it was ok either way, but her lungs were falling apart and we needed to make our minds up. He said it was up to her dad and I. We needed to talk about it. I told her dad we should go talk. I got up and headed for the door. They all started to get up and my husband piped up, "Um, I think he meant just the two of them". They sat back down as we left the room.
We made our way out side. There was a little garden with very few people. We sat across from each other. I had no idea what to say except, "How the hell did we ever make it here?" The meaning didn't escape him. "I'm not sure", he answered. He was so sad. He talked about how the world had lost out on so much with her. She was brilliant really. She had been a TAG student. I was always surprised how smart she was. The perfect blend of brilliance and practicality. I asked him what he thought about the organ donation. He agreed that was the one thing that made sense. We usually agreed on most things except when she was involved. She hardly ever disagreed to my face, but if I was on the phone or hearing it from the girls it was a different story. I could see her standing in the window above us watching us make our decision. He did ask one thing. Not today. He just wanted to wait one more day. "She is in bad shape. You know that don't you?" I asked him. He knew. He just couldn't do it today. "Just wait one more day", He asked me. "ok", I agreed. "One more day".
He hated hospitals. I will for the life of me never understand how he was able to go when the girls were being born. Once, he broke his finger in the wood pile. A giant log rolled off the top right onto his finger. He was just about crying, rolling all around. I finally talked him into going to the hospital. He told me he had done well until the nurse showed him the x-ray of where the tip of his finger was broken. He said, "it was a good thing he was a guy, because I fainted right there". He had caught him before he could hurt himself again.
We had gone back upstairs to the meeting. We told them what we were thinking and they said that was fine. They said for everyday that she is here we would be paying for unless she was okayed for the transplant. He said, "we are going one more day. We'll see how she is in the morning. They looked at me. I just nodded in agreement.
They were still only letting two people at a time in to visit. I sat in the waiting room again as the people went in and out of the room just waiting to get back into the room. I spent most of my time the first night at the base of her bed with my head between her feet. There were tubes and needles everywhere. I wanted to hold her hand, but that was almost impossible under the circumstances.
There were fewer people today. I stayed in the lobby so they could visit. Sitting and watching everyone come and go made it seem like someone else's life. How did we all get to this point? How does something like this happen? Not one answer had come since this ordeal began. The numbness was still there. The only thing, in hindsight, that kept me going was the child in the bed and the need to do whatever was needed to make her more comfortable.
Soon, there was no one again, but her and I. My husband had been making his trips back and forth to the house and out for food. It was Thanksgiving today. One of the families that had a child there previously had brought a turkey dinner with the fixings for the nurses and families having to spend the day there. We made our plates and went back to the room. My husband went home that night to stay close to the dogs and make sure all was well there. I sat up most of the night with Hanna again with my head nestled between her feet. About one o'clock I decided to sleep. Just for a few hours. I asked them to wake me up right away if anything changed.
About three o'clock I jolted awake. I had no idea why until I heard her breathing had changed. She wasn't heaving anymore. Her breathing seemed peaceful working along with the respirator. I'm sure I seemed irritated when I asked why the nurse hadn't let me know. She looked at me telling me, "It just happened and then you wolk up." It seemed like defeat was coming all to fast at that moment. It was a sad moment. I just sat with her. I walked myself up to the nurses station and asked if I could take a shower. I sat with the warm water running over me crying. I knew it would soon be over. Part of me didn't want it to be and I felt guilty.
We gathered for our last meeting. We were all there quiet this time waiting for the inevitable. Her sister was outside with her friends. We all wanted answers that never came. The doctor sat and told us the cat scan had showed nothing. He wanted to know if she had ever had a seizure. The only answer we agreed on this whole time. No, never. She was healthy. Had hardly ever been ill. She had better than average eyesight. She was a brilliant student. She had just gotten the braces she wanted for some time. That was all there was to report. Basically, nothing.
The doctor wanted to know about the organ donation reminding us that as soon as the papers were signed that the hospital would be taking over the payments for her care. I looked at her dad. I don't think he looked up at this point, but nodded his approval. "OK then, the nurse will bring the papers for you both to sign. We won't be needing another meeting, but if you have any questions you can call the hospital," We signed the papers. I asked about the kids just outside the door. "They have been coming everyday. They deserve some kind of answer, don't they?" We decided to tell them she had some kind of heart failure. They decided I should tell them. I gathered them all up and told them what we thought we knew. They were devastated. I let them know we were also.
This was the last night. I had asked my husband to bring me some things from home the first night. I knew the funeral home would be washing her hair. It hadn't been brushed since they pulled her from the tub. There was the matter of plucking her eyebrows. I spent about an hour making sure I got them straight. Her nails were cut. Her skin looked strangely clear. Eventually we would need to put some makeup on her. I wanted her to look nice for her funeral.
There were several of the kids that came that night. The nurses came to the room to let me know she had some visitors. I was shocked and came out to see two kids in the hallway. They just wanted to drop off a card for her. I told them she didn't really look that great with all the tubes and stuff. One thought he might want to see her the other was not so much wanting to. The other changed his mind. I told them I was proud of them, but I needed to get back. They were planning to take her for the transplant surgery at 9:30 in the morning.
The transplant team sends you a counselor as soon as the papers are signed. She was a typical counselor slash mental health person. Not that that is a bad thing. I just have no idea how to discuss anything with one. They have no input usually like a friend would. A friend would hang with you and you would feel it. Sometimes you have to hold them back. That kind of interaction is what I love and is grounding to me. My counselor was a good woman, but I found the veteran nurses much more help. They would be doing everything they could to help all of you leave there in the best condition possible, no matter what the outcome was going to be. Even if they knew it wasn't going to end well they let me be a part of it. I already knew, but the end doesn't come until the end and no one leaves until that moment comes. It sounds funny to say, but I didn't want to be anywhere else.
I was tired but still living off the adrenalin. Honestly, I'm still not positive of the order of things as it all seemed like one really long nightmare I wasn't able to wake up from. I had spent much of the rest of my time with her just touching her as much as I could. I also double checked her eyebrows and little grooming issues. The nurses gave me a little box for trinkets to remember her. They asked me if I wanted a locket of hair. I think we almost shaved the back of her head. I made sure to get some for her sisters and brothers also. With there being five of them I wasn't sure if I had enough. I found myself asking for more, but they never said no to me.
That moment finally came when they came for her. My sister in law and husband had shared the last couple of hours with me. We had taken some pictures with her which I keep hidden on my computer. I have some back up files with my regular back up files. When that moment came when they needed me to let go of her feet, it was the hardest thing I had to ever do in this life. It actually took a couple of times. I knew I would never see her warm again. It was final. That is the moment I let her go.
Finally, tears. Anger. There was a anger that rose in me that frightened me all the way to my soul. I really wanted to kill even though I had no idea who to kill. My mind went from fact to fact of everything that I had heard. I mulled over every word one by one trying to figure out why I was here. Why we were all burying a girl who was just coming to her budding youth. I had asked the nurses earlier in the day about who to talk to with the sheriff's office and if they had anything to say about it. She was looking at me horrified. "We didn't find anything in her system. She had no injuries. She had no defensive wounds. We have no reason at this point to get them that involved", she said. "Well, they are but there is nothing to work on right now. I'm sorry." The words went around my brain not really sinking in even though I knew I heard them. I just stood there looking at her half nodding and half shaking my head. "They are going to take her for an autopsy just as soon as the operation is done. Wait and see what they have to say." She gave me a card to the hospital. "If you have any questions and want to talk to the police just call them." With every detail bouncing around in my head with grief like I had never felt gripped by homicidal thoughts it was all I could do just to walk and talk. I never did call them. I would wait for the autopsy findings to come back.
My husband and sister took me home. It had taken longer than they thought to get everything ready for the surgery so half the day was gone before we left the hospital. It was a quiet ride home. I had no words. They were all gone. Getting home was empty and sad. I loved our new house. I loved us. With all our problems we were still OK in my mind until right now. The kids were still gone, but we were expecting them back tomorrow. I felt nothing but exhausted but my brain all the way in the back still looking for answers in a sea of questions. I sat down on my sofa with tears flowing. They just fell like water, but I was frozen. My sister in law and my husband had lost their brother years ago, but had never really gotten a final reason why either. He had died from a gunshot wound to the head in his apartment, but no one knew how it happened and never found out. She was telling something about that and it hurts bad now but as time goes by it does get better. I could barely heard her. She pulled my hair so she could see me and it hurt. She sat next to me with her arm around me and my skin hurt. My soul hurt and I had no idea what to do to make it better or if it ever would.
I went to sleep next to my husband that night with the stuffed fish that was brought to her by one of her friends while she was in the hospital. I remember crying myself to sleep in his arms. He was in allot of pain also. She was his favorite. I think when you are a step parent you do have favorites. He had taken her to the gym once with her best friend a couple of earlier and they all had a blast. He told me they had sped around in the Mustang convertible which I had named whiplash. He had so much fun her and wasn't even mad they spilled a 32 oz. pop in his backseat. He was always using her quote, "If you are bored, than you are probably a boring person. Every chance he got he would take her with him to the gym. "You should see her face when I kick the heavy bag with her hanging on it. She loves that," he would tell me. His son and her where the same age. They would rough house all the time so hard I wondered how either of them never got hurt both of them sparing.They would fall onto the couch laughing. She had taken Taekwondo since she was little. She had no problem holding her own. I could feel his pain now. Lying there was the only relief I had felt in days. It was almost like his pain canceled mine out.
The next day the kids came back. I was still on the couch. There weren't allot of words. They did have allot of questions. I had no answers to give them. I have no idea what happened that day. I spent allot of my idle time sitting going over facts still and staring. I was starting to think I would have to back to work. Work. How do people do anything after losing a child? I knew at that moment I could never work again. I couldn't even get off the couch. How could I do housework? The kids had school coming up. We lived out of the district and I was taking them everyday. The puppies we had just gotten wanted to be played with. I even hurt my skin to touch them.
We had gotten to the business of planning the funeral. We all met at the funeral home. No one really spoke to each other. My husband had been to the doctor and he was prescribed some medicine for anxiety at that time. He was fairly tipsy. It wasn't just obvious to me. They asked about how we wanted her head stone to read. What color casket. They needed her social security number. Everyone looked at each other. I said, "I have it." My husband left the room to go to the bathroom. Her dad asked what was up with him. I told him, "He loved her very much whether you believe that or not. He is on medicine that the doctor gave him. Leave him alone." He came back and we continued. The news papers would be in touch. The plot was going to be given to her dad by his mother. The family had bought up a bunch of plots in a historical graveyard years ago. Her great grandparents and her dads dad were buried there. Then there was the cost taking care of her body and other burial expenses. Everyone looked at me. I looked down and said, "I don't have any money. Things are not good there right now." My husband chimed in, "I'll just put it on the credit card." I looked up at him stunned. "No. I'm pretty sure that's not an option," I said sternly. "Yeah. I think I got enough," he said. "Stop it!" I yelled at him making everyone jump in their seats. There was that anger. "Ok", said his mom. "I can loan the money. We can worry about the payments later on." That was the end of that.
I was such a mess and it was getting worse inside of me. Somehow I had gotten the responsibility to do the obituary for our local paper. I suspected my husband. I was surprised and unprepared when they called. I didn't find out what I had told them until it came out in the paper. It's funny to me now. I was pretty baffled by what I had told them then. I didn't think it was that bad, but it wasn't as good as it could have been. I could tell the tensions were rising. I found out later it wasn't what was said but the order everyone was mentioned. They also didn't like the fact my husbands family was mentioned. I didn't want to get into it with anyone since I wasn't able to get the rage under control. They had all been this way the whole time I knew them.
We had to got to her church to do more planning the next day. I had done less planning for her older sisters wedding. We talked about the funeral and what he was going to say and when. We talked about the memorial with the kids. Ideas for that were needed. My husband came up with writing things we want to say to her and letting them go to float away. The kids had some songs they were going to sing. I was going to make some fliers. I knew my work would let me, but if not I could get them made up some at the print shop. Honestly, it was allot of blah, blah, blah to me. I was getting overwhelmed. The pastor made a point to ask me how I was when it was over. I told him I had no idea. He said, "You know she was a very nice girl and had been very happy. I thought she looked allot like her dad until today."
The girls talked me into going to her dads house for a bit the next day. We arrived in the afternoon for lunch, but no one was really hungry. The only reason I went was because she asked. They had company and were planning for the memorial they were putting together at her school. They were planning to put her in the ground right before that on a Friday. There was some pleasantries and some talking. I still had no idea what was being said from one minute to the next or what was going to come out of my mouth. The less I said the less likely it was I would get myself into trouble.
All of us adults and the girls were sitting at the kitchen table talking. Her step mom told us that no one had been able to use that bathroom yet and how glad she was there was two bathrooms in the house. Her dad had come home that first day to clean it up, but she couldn't go back inside again. From what I understood her sister had been staying away from home until today also. She was trying to be brave and announced she was going to go in there. We kept talking. After a few minutes she came out excited telling us she found her IPOD still in the bathroom. Her step moms' eyes brightened up, "I was wondering what happened to that." Her sister then announce we could listen to the last song she listened to as she fiddled with it. "I need speakers", she said as she ran off again towards the bathroom. When she came back she set everything up. It was a song I hadn't heard yet. To this day I can't figure out how they find the great music they do. The song "Fall for you" by Secondhand Serenade. The lyrics shocked me and took my breath away. We were all instantly disturbed and the tears flowed. I left that day empty inside, but that song lodged deep in my psyche playing over and over.
It seems that we are a society of occasions and ceremonies. It becomes more apparent when there are extremes in life. Weddings, births and deaths. One of the things I had heard over the last ten years where I had been working was when someone you love dies, you cut your hair. I had blonde hair that had grown all the way down to my butt. I loved my hair. I needed a grief ceremony. I decided to cut the hair. My husband said it was okay as long as he got to do it, and he got to keep it. I was okay with that. We cut it that night. I was surprised how well it worked. The release of something I loved on purpose helped with the letting go of the person I had lost to by accident.
They had decided they didn't want to have a viewing. I was shocked as it was a bit of a tradition. Being raised with some Irish tradition I couldn't comprehend at least a viewing if not an all out party. Her dad and step mom were already against anyone except family attending the funeral and were not having anything to do with a wake. I know so many of the kids from her school wanted to go and say goodbye. That is basically how we got the memorial for her at her school. Her sister and many of the kids she knew were just broken over her death. I decided I was having a wake even if it was just me and my kids. I let her older sister know when and where. If she wanted to come she was more than welcome.
She was very proud of being part Irish. I found out later she had exceptional pieces of Irish music on her IPOD mixed in with her rock, Barry Manilow and other music. She was going to learn how to bake and open a bakery in Ireland. That was her big dream. I had bought her a book on how to decorate cakes just a few months earlier at the Barnes and Noble we would always all go hang out at during visits. She was just so excited about growing up and getting on with life.
My kids went with me to the funeral home that day including my oldest. When we got there there was just the five of us. Her older sister was going to meet us there and warned me she was going to be bringing a few more of her friends. I was relieved she was coming. As we piled out of the car we noticed her coming around the corner. Behind her were a flock of adolescent kids. It was a small country school where everyone knew everyone else. They had come to formally say good bye. Many of them I had seen in school programs over the years and late at night as she was lying in the hospital bed.
I think the funeral director was a bit surprised to see the turn out. I still remember her smiling as we showed up for our viewing appointment with stuff to drink (pop of course) and snacks. We had a great wake that day. They danced and listened to her IPOD music. We checked out all the clothes they had put her in. She loved Converse and she had the shirt I bought for her. It was black with the big white Converse logo on the front. Her favorite jeans. Mixed matched socks and her Converse shoes she had colored herself. Her older sister decided she would be horrified if she went in the ground with no makeup on. We dumped out our purses and made sure her makeup was done right. Towards the end we shared ours thoughts and memories. My husband took lots of pictures for me. I learned that night she was right about her friends. She used to always say,"My friends a thousand times better than yours." Well, she was right.
I asked my boss to help me with the fliers. When drove into work that night it was like driving home. Work had been such a refuge for so long. I longed to be there. Maybe so everything would be back to normal. I had become terrified of breaking there and not being able to pull myself back together. I knew it was coming, but was trying to put it off. As I walked into our office she turned and gasped. "Oh honey, you cut your hair. Well, it looks good," she said in almost a whisper holding my cheeks. We got down to the business of fliers. I laughed for the first time in days sprinkled with tears and stories. I felt guilty for not being there. I loved and appreciated her more than ever. If she ever reads this I hope she knows she more of a sister than anything. I have never loved another woman that much, ever. I used to joke around with her that she should divorce her husband and marry me. She would make Icky faces and pretend to be choking, but I know she loves me. While I was there I picked up some flowers from a friend of mine who sells them and gave them to us for free. There were buckets and buckets of flowers. I have no words for these people. They are the greatest.
The day finally arrived. They always do. They begin like most others with the sunrise and end after the sun sets. I knew it was going to be an all day affair. There was much so much to do. We spent the morning wrapping the flowers into little bouquets people could put on her grave. I had gone to the grocery store for some things for her wake a couple of days earlier and had come across some purple orchids in the lobby. I called her sister. "Didn't I hear she loved purple orchids?", I asked her. "Yeah", she answered, "I have no idea if there is such a thing though." "Well, I just found some, I told her. I'll get them." I was as surprised as anyone. I had never heard of or knew they came in purple.
The burial was first. The kids and I arrived at the grave site. We unpacked the flowers and made our way to the small crowd. Some people were there and more were straggling in as we stood around. It was a surreal scene. I found people I knew and thanked them for coming. Her dad and step mom were not happy because some of the people who came weren't family, but they were my closest friends. I was glad that some of the kids that were at the wake were able to come. I remember smiling because I had no idea what else to do. I hadn't gone to too many funerals in my life. I saw the hole dug the poles across so they could rest her coffin on it for the ceremony. The hole was draped so you couldn't see down in the hole, but it was evident but the huge pile of dirt not too far away from the site.
I'm not sure who decided it was time, but someone called for the pole bearers. They lined up next to her casket lifting her up and stood there for a moment. Then they slowly began to walk towards the hole in the ground. I was amazed how people who have never met could walk in unison like they have done this before. They gently rested her on the poles across her grave. They set some chairs up next to her casket. Her dad and step mom sat in two of them. I slowly walked to the casket and froze. I had no idea what to do next. Her step mom turned to me patting the chair. "Come sit down Leetha." I sat down next to them staring in front of me. The pastor from her childhood church was lying her to rest that day. He was talking. I have no idea what he was saying. I sat while the tears flowed. I don't think I was making any noise myself as all I could hear was the pastors mumbled words.
All of a sudden everyone was milling toward where I was sitting and her dad and step mom stood up. I don't remember much else about being there except looking around thinking it was a beautiful setting and besides being chilly out with a light sprinkle of rain, it was a very nice day. People were standing in lines to put the flowers my friend gave us onto her casket. Her sisters and best friend had cut the purple orchids off the plant and placed them right on top. The yellow and purple complimented each other. As people placed their flowers saying their good byes they began to leave.
There was several hours before we were to go to the program the kids from her school. It was due to start after school was let out so there was no interference with school itself. I expected a moderate turn out since these were kids she had gone to school with most of her life. We decided since there was so much time until it started we would head back to the house to wait. The kids needed to eat anyhow. We gathered together and decided who was going with who. We had to take two cars since there were so many of us.
When we got back to the house everyone was encouraged to eat. I had no idea how long the program was going to last and in the winter it gets dark early. I don't know about anyone else, but when it gets dark I have to have dinner. I made myself eat with the others. There was a lot of chatting among the kids about what they seen and hear today so far. It seemed like time was standing still, but it was already time to go. The school was about an hour away and traffic was fierce that time of day.
On our way there I got caught in traffic. It's a good thing I know all the back roads. If I hadn't of I would have been very late. As we were coming close her sister called asking us where we were. "We are almost there." I told her. "traffic is really bad." "Hurry mom. They want to start without you. I'm fighting with them now. They have to start soon." "I'm coming as fast as I can, honey" I reassured her. Finding a parking space was another story. There were so many cars. We quickly parked and ran for the auditorium. We had been there for the girls programs over the years so we knew where it was. As we walked into the room I gasped. I had no idea so many people would be there. The room was packed! There were kids and adults everywhere. I think the whole town was there. I thought I was going to slip in, but the whole room erupted in applause as I walked in. I think they were glad they could begin the program. It was beautiful. I loved those people so much for coming.
The pastor again was talking to everyone. I was trying hard to hear him. He said a prayer, gave time for people to say a word or two. They had the photo gallery that played with the song, "Time of your life." It was very sweet. I finally broke down watching the photos. It was just such a long day. Then the pastor introduced the choir. I knew they were going to sing as they had been sitting on the choir bleachers the whole time. They stood up and began to sing. I have no idea what songs they sing, but watching them was beautiful. They sung their hearts out they whole time crying. My heart just broke for them. In the midst of these kids was her best friend. I think she was singing extra loud and crying extra hard. They had been best friends forever. They were inseparable until now.
I wish I was able to describe this scene adequately. There were kids literally everywhere. In the bleachers. In the isles. There were chairs staged for many to sit in. They were filled mostly with adults and small children. There were so many lovely innocent tears shed that day. I found out later that they had tagged the city park with her initials. Her Facebook and Myspace was filled with lovely words from people she knew. I knew that day she had made her mark on her little world. She was loved and missed by many.
At the end of the program there was some time set aside for some people to say a few words. I had no words yet. During the photo gallery I finally lost it. It was a very long day for all of us. Her oldest sister stepped up to say a few words. Unlike many, she had to. It would be in her heart forever like a fever if she hadn't. I had wondered if she would be able to and was glad she had found the strength.
The kids were dismissed to go set balloons loose with their personal message. I wonder sometimes where they all ended up. Maybe in a farmers field somewhere. What a sight that would have been in the morning. I didn't go. I was surrounded by those who wanted to tell me how sorry they were. I felt surrounded. Caged. I smiled through the tears and kept telling myself they needed to say what was in their heart. We all needed healing and it seemed very, very far away.
I gathered the kids together and herded them to the car. We said goodbye to her sister. It was hard to know if she was going to okay. I knew her heart was broken. Her sister was always her best friend. Driving away was hard. The little kids were quiet in back for a few miles but then started to chatter. It was good to hear them talking about it in the back of the car the way they would always discuss things at the end of the day on the way home from school. Many a plan was hatched and problem solved in the back of that car. It was dark already. The oncoming headlights hurt my swollen eyes. My husband was up ahead blazing the was home like a beacon so I didn't get lost in the haze in my mind.
Getting home I put the kids to bed and sat up. Her sister had given me her Ipod and I played her music over and over. I found it comforting snuggled up to her fish from the hospital. I cried. It felt like the end of something really big. A finally. I saw no light at the end of the tunnel. I had never believed a day like this would come. I am one of six and to this day we are all still alive. I felt like a failure. One of my children had died. I was the mom and she was dead. I wanted to believe there was an end to it and kept telling myself that it would pass, but I had no idea when that might happen. The rage was still there and kept trying to escape from me. I was afraid of it. It was like having another person inside me trying to control me. I didn't feel like dying because a part of me already felt dead. I had no idea what to do next so I just cried.
I have no recollection of the few days after that. I think we were all in shock really. I remember it snowing allot that year. I had no thoughts about going to work or doing anything. The days were empty and flat. My husband had gone face first into the drugs. I couldn't imagine things getting worse. We got into a fight about money. He was give a small amount of money from his work at the funeral. I thought it should go to her sister, but he thought it was his. The rage was in my face and I threw him out. It was blood money to me and I didn't want to have any of it. He was gone several days. I couldn't handle all the loss and called him up. I begged him to come home. I had fallen into the black hole and felt like I was dying. I needed help. Even in his condition he was willing. He came home and held me for days. I have never forgotten that act of kindness. If I was me I'm not sure I would have. I think he was a better person than I felt I could have been in that moment. It was the beginning of him coming and going. Eventually we got a divorce, but I have never forgotten that time when he saved my life.
Christmas came that year. We tried to make it as normal as we could for the little ones. They were so small and had so many hard questions. They would come up with scenarios of "How it could have happened." The final outcome of the autopsy would become "drowning". I'll never be OK with that any more than I would be someone becoming color blind. She was missed a whole bunch that day. I thought of re wrapping the present she had gotten me last year for under the tree, but thought it might traumatize everyone else. It was a ceramic toilet with a colorful blue pattern. Her sister had advised her against it, but she gave it to me. I'm a mom. Come on. You could give me anything and I would be the happiest person on earth. I still had it. Probably always will.
I finally went back to work. It took two months and some days, but I just wolk up knowing it was time. They had called me several times asking how long it would be. All I could tell them is I could not do my job sobbing everyday. It might scare the people I serve. My husband lost his job months after she was laid to rest. The company all but shut their doors because of the recession. They were directly affected by the housing market. We would have lost our house anyway. We all learned many things that year, but I think I will write the whole thing off as the worst year ever. Even with my father passing five years before this I have never know grief like that ever. The deaths of people we knew came in quick succession that year. It was a pool of tears it seemed all the time. There were times where I would be driving along and my phone would ring. It would be one of my daughters howling and crying. I would sit and talk with them on the side of the road or a parking lot. My youngest daughter turned fourteen this year. She said just before she blew out her candles,"Well, I am officially older then she was before she died." It took us by surprise.
Everyone was right about one thing. I guess I knew that even when they said it. Time is the best medicine. After all, it's what I would say to someone going though the same thing. There was a couple other things I learned. Your memory will fail you in time. Take lots of pictures. And, everyone who breaths isn't necessarily alive.
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