Revelations

 

An amazing daughter...not just mine but to so many others xo

Standing on a stage with 21 others, I looked out beyond the vast field and to the tall grasses, multitude of trees and the overflowing waters. Each of us held a small flat box that inside contained life. As the daylight peeked through, the tree branches outstretched to the setting sun, we carefully opened our precious treasures and out flew twenty-one Vanessa Cardui’s- better known as the Painted Lady butterflies. These flapping pieces of fragility, migrate to vast locations to Britain, where their travels consist of a round trip from Europe to Africa. Further studies shown an extensive journey takes place all over the continent, in various weather conditions, which are mind boggling. 

In my research, I discovered a video on a phenomenon that takes place in Mexico. This link to the amazing voyage of these spectacular beauties, is an endearing reminder to protect them.

https://youtu.be/3njFNmc-W2k

Looking back to that day in the park and a group of us releasing the 21 butterflies to carry on their thousand + miles, I know I was in an influx of mania, depression, followed by extreme anxiety and grief. If I could have a do over (many of which are connected with death), I would have simply had this event be in celebration of my daughter…. that spoke volumes on transformation, struggles, overcoming and a short life span.

I have completely shift away from the events I had hosted in previous years, on an ambitious scale. Challenges came from the grandeur of a mental disorder that can take on epic proportions.

What I have learned in the past 10 years- in times of helping those in need, was that joy brought to others does not have to come in extravagance- rather in various balls of colorfully knitted scarves, toques and mitts, a box of cupcakes, and slices of pizza’s shared. All of which were on a smaller extent yet had a lot of positive effect.

In some instances, the Maxes and Gigi’s of the world I’ve met, wanted to be seen and share some of the emptiness they felt.

In summer, my own travels have seen me on my new journey in hopes of surgery. I was given a new beginning and it has taken a great deal of time, in my undisclosed location, to feel settled.

Upon my arrival, I was greeted with the following magnet…one that welcomed me beyond the torn pages, I left behind.

In writing this post and still with the side effects of my strokes, it is my hope to commemorate the memories of my daughter Shayla, who passed away December 12, 2011 and give my respects to another young woman, who I never had the chance to say Thank you to her. 

As I sift through my Photo Archives to see what images I had left to share; this prompted me to be filled with sorrow.

In one of my bereavement groups, I learned there comes a time, when long after your loved one has passed away and the multiplicity of tears have been shed, that suddenly you realize there are no longer “new images” to post.

You feel your heart sinking, as the rawness of your loss reminds you there was no Christmas 2011 with Shayla in it or her 22^nd Birthday in February, to upload.

I set out this week to spend hours looking through 21 years of a life cut short. In going back to a time where I had continual shelter, food, love, and health, I found a series of pictures taken at a location that remains undisclosed.

In the past, I made the mistake of openly sharing where a release of pebbles had been left, only to hear much later that the area, had been horribly vandalized.

I found an Album that was marked ‘A special place’. It was a location we frequented when Shayla came for her visits over the years, to see us.

Laughter erupted from the time she opened the door, or I would pick her up, while my partner braced himself for the two of us arrive back. Jokes were cracked, hugs given, new music shared, and we would talk of our passion for quotes.

Recently, I heard the following by Jules Verne who once wrote, “Put two ships in the open sea without wind or tide, it will come together.” 

Since her passing, many releases of stones have taken place, in her memory and also the planting of some snowberry bushes. Although I cherish the things done to remember her by, I also miss her calling me “Momma,” the way her skin smelled of “Angel” perfume, her hugs that felt as if we were touching hearts and her dancing. No matter when or where, if a beat of music played, she broke into ballet, hip-hop or a complete number inspired by the way she felt.

I have been fortunate, in the four years of the movement I created and stories I wrote about pebble releases; it has brought me great comfort. When others who may not have known Shayla; paid tribute to her and her love of rockhounding through over 300 + pebbles all over our world…they acknowledge who she was.

As I uploaded photographs, I found in my collection, the amazing picture~ which remains one of my favourites. It was after the loss of my daughter and my first Mother’s Day without her in 22 years. A treasured friend had coupled her heartstrings with mine and she did an incredibly large release over a pier that was quite memorable!

A Beautiful Release...

As we were walking, I could see a rainbow sunset like no other! To this day, it is one of my cherished photo’s of the Heavenly Father’s paintbrush across the canvas of life; a beautiful reminder of a passage that speaks to me:

“God goes right for the heart. It is where He meets us. It is where He evaluates us. It is where He desires that the flame of an intimate, life-changing relationship with Him, be fanned into a great source of spiritual heart and light. He desperately seeks to dwell with us at the core…” ~Joseph Stowell

 I also realized those who had taken part over the years in the movement I created, were imbedded in my heart where my beliefs are. I have shared with many others that having faith does not mean I am without mistakes, no- to me being able to fold my hands in prayer, gives me peace and my transgressions have been given forgiveness.

This leads me to have extended compassion to many in my own life. That no matter the discord in relationships, there were endless memories that united us together.

Now, that seemed a lifetime ago and back at my laptop, I searched for ‘new’ photo’s to be shared. I found more of Shayla…well, simply being Shayla. If she could make you laugh at her expense…. she would.

Perusing my own pictures, I realized I am nearing that wall- the one you come too after countless years of snapshots, are dwindling. Where you wish for just one more funny, serious, silly, poignant, and beautiful image of your loved one, would appear.

Later, while looking at others brilliant photographs, I came across a beautiful picture that held an image, familiar to me. I reached out to the photographer Michael Russell. His prompt reply held words of sympathies and echoed his kindness, to a mother who misses their child.  

I am including a link to his brilliant creative gifts of photography, because this is the way I know how to express my gratitude, during a time, when society is isolated.

The wandering eye can ‘travel’ to Michael Russell’s vivid images and lets the viewer be taken on a journey of splendour, in the many images he has for purchase. 

 Photography Link: Michael Russell Photography

For me to be able to look at his photographs, it was a nice break away from my grief.

What has transpired this past week…is the unravelling of a thread connected to tragic loss -one in which found its way- still attached to me. It was when I researching about an event that I stumbled upon a blurb about my daughter in the Issue of TRU Bridges 2012 Issue No.#7 TRU Alumni and Friends Magazine

Shayla Driver was a graduate of the Human Service Diploma in 2011, working towards her BSW at TRU. She was actively involved in projects addressing the homeless and other marginalized groups, with services to Aboriginal students, and with the Gathering Place. An eager, highly engaged student, she was working hard towards the goal of being a social worker and was always prepared to contribute more to others.

What I read was something I had not seen before. Someone had taken the time to write a beautiful summary of my daughter. While alive, Shayla had raised funds and awareness, for something her heart believed in.  A true movement of Hope, encouragement, leadership, and purpose, set in motion by Katherine McParland. During the years Shayla was a student at Thompson Rivers University, her dedication to helping others spanned those who were addicted, at risk, struggling with mental health/wellness and homelessness.

Growing up, my daughter had assisted me numerous times in assemblies that gave back to those in need. In the late summers, my mania would conjure up grand events; always resisting the idea of ‘simpler is better.’

However, it was when the mania subsided that a simpler notion of letting others remind me of the purpose and the privilege of helping those in need, came to fruition.

One of the best events I hosted for non-profit was on a bitter winter’s night, as people listened to local music, drank free cocoa. As the recipients of donated bags of winter clothes and goodies gathered, I could see Shayla in the crowd, with the biggest smile and contentment.

After she had passed, all of the left-over food from the Celebration of Life, was also donated to the same Mission Outreach.

It is these reminders that also shines on someone who is to be remembered for her strength of character, her dedicated measures of raising more than awareness, funds, and support of those in need.

I also believe my attempts, fed by the delusions of my mania, were steppingstones that Shayla would take, to see her participate in something that had a leader at the helm, who was far more capable.

When I first heard the Skylar Grey’s lyrics to: Everything I need…I broke down in heaping sobs. I knew in my fragile heart that it was a song Shayla would have shared with me…

Born on the wrong side of the ocean
With all the tides against you
You never thought you'd be much good for anyone
But that's so far from the truth

I know there's pain in your heart
And you're covered in scars
Wish you could see what I do…

Shayla thought that although I was a hard fragmented stone, I only needed love, patience and understanding, to become polished.

In terms of writing…I felt I was the unfinished ‘rough draft.’

 Looking back on the months of this years displacement, as I settled into the nighttime, I would pull down my visor to block out the oncoming lights of the traffic. There would fall down upon me, a picture I had of Shayla. The biting irony was I wore it in a walk to help those truly homeless. I would look at my daughter’s picture and then myself in the rear-view mirror and choke back on the hate I had for myself as a person and who I had become. Pounding my fist on the dashboard, I was sickened for being thankful my daughter could not see me as a mother fail! Getting on my cell phone, anything to distract myself, I would go to find Christian songs, or verse to pull me out of the wicked headspace the enemy was anxious to keep me locked in. I was frantic with my obsessive thoughts about the news story I had given and was sick with worry about dying in my vehicle. The biting cool night air piercing the veil of darkness, reminded me that I was in no shape to have spoken to the press.

So, the one page I’ve tried unsuccessfully to tear away, is about a person who has been made better by the truths of who I have been…a grieving mother, someone who lives with two disorders, a stroke survivor and a yes…a person, who was without a home.

There were many nights, I often cried myself to sleep in my vehicle- for those I felt guilty of- lives shattered still on the streets. These were souls who I gravitated to because of lonliness, and also I felt closer to Shayla. My daughter always took the time to listen to their stories; without judgment. She knew from watching me connect with those I felt more at ease, came from walking a mile in someone else’s shoes. They have taught me more about serving in ways that matter. As well, I learned to be humble and understand the importance of not be ashamed for the life experiences I had found myself in.

In those nights when I struggled to make sure I was breathing the next day, there was a song that wrapped me in arms I could not see, in my need to be held.

Its by Leanna Crawford and became an anthem song of Hope that I would blast in my car.

Video Link~ The Truth I'm Standing On Leanna Crawford

Scared, oh I thought I knew scared... Now I’m so filled with fear, I can barely move. Doubts, I’ve had my share of doubts. But never more than right now, I’m wondering where You are? I’m on the edge of fall apart. But somehow, Your promises Find my troubled heart... This is the truth I’m standing on... Even when all my strength is gone, You are faithful forever, and I know You’ll never Let me fall…

This is also applied to the passage of my own personal grief, when I feel so overwhelmed and alone in this world.

I speak from my bereavement and having taught a course, led by the Lord, I know no one has the right to tell another how to mourn the loss of their loved ones.

Back when Shayla was a TRU Student, she took part twice in an event called: “Camp out on Campus” that was the non-profit creation of the late Katherine McParland.

 Katherine passed away on December 4^th (of undisclosed causes). McParland had openly shared her experiences of earlier life being homeless and was quoted as a ‘woman of action.’

Unknowingly, Katherine had impacted my life and also Shayla’s, as she participated in a worthy cause that had been done right, with the benefits of being successful and impactive.

I have been humbled to read in the news, over $75,000 has been raised for Camp Out to End Youth Homelessness 2020| A Way Home Kamloops. This annual event surpassed the initial goal of $50,000.

While each of us has pages they would like to remove from their lives, I respect and regard Katherine McParland for the way she took hold of her chapters and truly advocated for those marginalized.

I extend my condolences to the family of a young woman I never met, who influenced my daughter, in such a positive way of leadership and a heart for those homeless.

As parents, we lament our own ways, over the passing of our daughters and the continual lessons they are both still giving in ways… that go beyond all measures.

By Tonya L Alton