BREAKTHROUGH IN A BOX

 

Often when something is broken, we will spend much time in navigating our pain through means that are only numbing the agony- instead of realizing the answer to all the madness- is really within our reach. ~ TL Alton

Ever since the day my daughter’s life ended on December 12^th, 2011, I have been a spider caught in a web of deceit, heartache and displacement.

I have kept secret certain circumstances regarding the death of Shayla private and will continue to keep some information confidential, in hopes one day the whole truth will finally come out, about what really happened. I have been fortunate that over time, an Investigator has gathered information, which can prove my daughter’s crash, was no accident.

I believe, it will only be a matter of time before those responsible, will be held accountable- for their roles, which to the tragic death of my child.

My blog post isn’t entirely about this, in fact…my entry is about something that finally broke within me, a revelation so eye-opening…. I now better understand why I am writing this from a place of displacement- again.

In sharing the following, I would like to mention those also struggling prior to the holidays. Those whose homes were flooded and ravaged by the waters, who lost their home and whose lives have forever changed!

I want to say Thank you to the farmers I have spoke with. Through their tears,  they have shared about their farmlands and futures that are unknown. My heart goes out to those whose farm animals perished, whose structures collapsed and were washed away by the storms. Their livelihoods have been altered and they need our support!

Mental health is escalating and to those front line workers like Natasha at Save-On Foods in Capilano, I thank you! I was witness to your compassionate and beautiful, caring heart, to those in need!

Our province, our Country and our world is in crisis, and I have prayed for all of those affected, wishing I could do more!

In connection to release of matters of my heart, which go back ten years, I know this: It is not going to change the fact that my daughter is gone.

What I hope in my post, is for people to not judge me, for what they think they know about my journey. I would rather have people see there is far more to the circumstances and sad story of a young girl, trapped and submerged in her vehicle on December 12^th, 2011.

That due to a several conversations prior to her passing, my daughter provided the answers that many have no idea about. Her words have haunted me for the past ten years and I want others that are ‘responsible’ for what transpired, to know, I have never let go of the real truth.

The whole reality of the matter is this...Shayla called me on Dec 9th from Kamloops (where she lived and was in her third year of attending Thompson Rivers University) to say she was driving to Kelowna /McKinley area, to see a new baby that was born.

The devastating part for me- is Shayla was supposed to go on reading break- on a Greyhound bus and travel to Kelowna...but she couldn't wait! 

At first, I told her no way in hell are you driving the winter roads! She laughed and I will never forget her response...

“Momma, one day you will have to learn to let me go!"

 As I type these words out, it is crushing on my heart!

 I asked if she had cleaned out her car as being a University Student, she always carried around her books, etc. She said this:

"Oh momma, I just packed for the weekend....I only have a box of stuff for the Thrift Store that was put in the back and I'm running out of time, so I will drop it off in Kelowna."

As I type this, I am so upset that I never questioned if that deadly box was taped shut, closed up, or asked her to put it in her trunk instead!!

I want to just scream back my words: No babygirl, check the box...Please...

Here's some background info...after my daughter died, ‘friends’ of hers had someone they know dive into the Reservoir and retrieve Shayla’s personal belongings. The Police had no idea, they were never contacted and nor was I, until after the fact. Shayla’s cell phone was never found, yet would mysteriously re-appear, back in Kamloops- after her death.

A North American Engineer, was hired and gave a detailed report of what happened on the day Shayla’s car ended up submerged in the frozen waters of McKinley Reservoir. The report I have, states the untapped, unclosed box of goods for the Thrift Store, came open as Shayla drove into a deep hairpin corner. The contents opened up and spilled forward under her seat and something rolled under the break, preventing my daughter, from being able to step on the break pedal. Her speed accelerated and  Shayla lost control of her car! The report shows, in a panic and out of sheer desperation, she tried to correct the cars alignment, yet it was too late!

I also have a more details and an Investigators report that Shayla’s car crash and death were preventable. The other contents of this report is being kept private and sealed, until charges in the matter can be laid.

There also is an eerie and disturbing fact that $25,000 Life Insurance Policy was taken out on my daughter( not by me)….and it was cashed in, right after her death! It was also kept hidden from me, until it was discovered that a said individual did their best to deny it’s existence, until the truth was revealed. Prior to her death, Shayla had me as her mother, a beneficiary on her University Life Insurance Policy. I was removed- without knowledge- until I spoke with Shayla, and she confided in me, she had been convinced to switch over her Policy to someone in her life. I never thought anything about it, as she was only 21 and it did not matter to me, as she had made a young adult decision. I also was told her car had been privately worked- only days before her trip- by the said person who collected her Life Insurance.

 In my opinion, these actions all add up to negligence and I will leave it at that.

There are also many inconsistences about her travels, the purpose and the outcome.

Consequently, my post is to raise awareness and my belief to this day, something more nefarious happened to my daughter and there was a butterfly effect that occurred with me, due to Shayla’s ‘car crash.’

 Seven years after my daughter had died, I tried my best to carry on. Yet the burden I have felt, over the box that was placed in Shayla’s car, the life insurance and her vehicle worked on- only days before her road trip- have shattered my life!

 Later, I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and the damage to my mental health, has been extensive.

In the past five years, I have been displaced three times. Living out of my car, with serious health issues. Last summer, I had a stroke and aneurysm. This year, I had the hole in my heart repaired and two weeks ago, I was rushed to the hospital, believed to have had another TIA.

 While the two previous displacements, were due to a combination of serious work injuries/loss of job and benefits ending, there is more to what meets the eye.

 As I type this, I have just moved out from my last, recent suite.

After losing my job last year as a Labourer due to COVID, I have never recovered in re-establishing myself.

 This autumn, when my benefits ended, I found myself speaking with my Landlords and it resulted in me giving my notice. One of them had suffered a serious injury, after a fall and  due to my lack of rent, it was causing them issues.

I spent 5 hours cleaning my suite, packing up mine and my daughter’s things and moving back into my mini car. I made several trips to drop off donations to the Burnaby HOSPICE Thrift store and I found a young man in need to give my bottles and cans too.

 Yet I need to address ‘the box’ that was placed in Shayla’s car, as it is a missing puzzle piece.

This week, the night before I was to leave my suite, I took a much needed break from sorting and packing. Sitting down, I stared at the mound of boxes, donations to be given and abruptly burst into tears! I was looking at one box in particular, which had clothing and items jutting out. I had not closed it up, nor had I taped it. 

Abruptly, my PSTD was heavily triggered, and I fell to the floor, in tears.

 The answer to all three of my displacements, was sitting right in front of me!

The truth is, I have been awash with guilt and shame over the box that Shayla had travelled with! I had spoken to my daughter, several times and never had it occurred to me that I had transferred over to myself, the blame of that day! 

I have had recurring nightmares, where Shayla is screaming at me in the darkness of the frozen waters, to come ‘save her!’

I have carried the burdens that when she first called me in Kamloops, about the Life Insurance, I should have questioned her more!

I blame myself that when she called me about to depart on the road, I didn’t ask about the box!

I feel the guilt when I learned her car had been worked on- specifically her four tires- that I didn’t ask her more! Likewise, I am wracked with heartache that I couldn’t stop her from leaving… and I have lived with such shame- knowing, had any of these circumstances were to have changed, Shayla would still be alive!

 Looking back at the box I had set aside for donation, before this time of displacement, it represents my burdens. So when I feel overwhelmed by a new place to settle in (after living in my car), it is like I crave the darkness, the pain and punishment of displacement, as a release of all of what is built up inside of me!

I know for a period of time this year; I also went to a whole new level of darkness in seeking someone from my past. I pushed more and more, in our phone conversations, seeking to be in a realm of obscurity that feels like ‘home’ to me.

 Also, I oppressive feeling that I failed my daughter- sees me unsettled within. So much that when I find a new place to live, I do not think I am worthy of happiness or stability.

 I have been broken inside for a long period of time…as I mentioned to someone…

its as if darkness takes an elevator ride through my soul and departs on the main floor.

 I thought I had done a great release of ‘letting go’, until someone recently mentioned these words to me and I went on the defense! For me to let go...is to give up on me still fighting for the truth of what really took place.

 I also would ask anyone who thinks its time to let go… come this Christmas, as everyone is gathered at the table, presents have been opened and loved ones gathered round… look at one of your own children and ask yourself…if this happened to one of them, could you simply just ‘let it go?’

 For me, I now see a direct link between my daughter’s tragic car crash and the ripples of displacement in my life.

I have been carrying the guilt of others, the brokenness of making myself abandoned and punishing myself with the discord- I feel I deserve, to keep putting myself through!

 I now have a ‘reason’ for the madness/darkness of that tragic day. Also, a need to be freed off of the spider’s web, I’ve spent years trapped on.

 I am thankful for the block that God removed for me, in order to embrace healing and move forward. As a protective mother, I feel not only me, but others, let Shayla down. However, I can only speak for myself and what I know to be true.

 I am a writer and researcher. I believe in the facts, and I have faith that someday, the raw truth of what happened to my daughter, will be revealed.

 I am deeply grateful to those friends who have stood by me, the family that has reached out to help and to those who I understand… decided to jump off the train of chaos - that is my life.

 In times of crisis, people want to come together and help in anyway they can...

 One thing I do know, as a dear friend put it…

“Shayla wouldn’t want you to continue to carry this weight!”

So a major shift has occurred and instead of the burden of blame, I am striving to survive- daily!

The one constant companion of mine has been my book, Under the Sitka Tree. Over a week ago, I had a breakdown in tears, as I struggled what to do with the future of my novel? Would Shayla want me to keep tight control over Sitka or would she want me to let it go?

After many prayers, I signed a contract with Oldale Publishing that ensures its future and further release. This doesn’t get me out of living in my car, but all of Leon Oldale’s hard work and dedication, have secured further release of my book on Amazon and Kindle!

I have good reason to mention UTST, as it’s a source of income for me, when it sells.

I have been blessed by those who have purchased the paperback versions of my novel; family, friends and strangers who have shared in the beautiful promise to my late babygirl...Thank you from my heart to yours...💝

https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B09MW4L3FL

The time being, I have a lot to reconcile within myself and stop being stuck on December 12^th, 2011.

A large part of me, will never abandon the need for the truth, to finally come out about Shayla's untimely death. 

 I will also continue to reach out to others displaced. As I meet individuals- I am finding immigrants, people of various ethnic backgrounds/ beliefs and those truly homeless. Interwoven in all of them, I see a common thread.

 Those who are striving to find the means- that they are worthy- to be a part of this uncertain world!

 THE DEFINITION OF INSANE IS TO TREAT ANOTHER PERSON’S VALUE AS WORTHLESS!

In that, I find similarities- a place not of isolation but of connection- where everyone... has stories of heartbreak to share. 💔💦

 By TL Alton

TEN YEARS Later ~ Shayla Rae Dawn

Wreath Left where Shayla died in the Reservoir December 12th, 2011

When on December 12^th, 2011, my only child- my daughter’s life was submerged below the ice-filled reservoir,   I had to navigate my grief journey and do it on my own terms that has seen me still breathe in this world.

In the folds of bereavement, is the old cliché….Time heals everything. I can assure you, ten years into my grief, I don’t much like time, in that I feel the hurt on a deeper level…more than anything. I count ten years without my daughter, ten lonely Christmas’s without her, 10 birthdays comes and gone. After she died tragically in a car crash, I also had to let go of her many caring friends, for my heart could not handle weddings taking place, babies being born, and lives carrying on, while my babygirl became ashes to the wind.

I grew bitter, and full of remorse, guilt that I could never prevent her from driving solo to McKinley Landing- where a baby born into the family- Shayla could not wait to see! I became obsessed with the road and ensuring safety measures were in place- so this absolutely horrible accident, would never happen again! I barged into safety meetings, demanded to be heard and even had a rock memorial placed where Shayla had died in the frozen McKinley reservoir!

They say that times a healer…just how long is this burn suppose to last? ~ The Mortal Instruments

Every December 12^th, I travelled to the area, on my knees I would fall and smash my frail hands against the earth where my daughters lifeless body remained trapped! While I was entrenched in gripping grief, never once did I dare to blame the one thing that remained solid in my life…God. From the very first day of standing over a hole in the ice- the watery grave of my daughter- I was torn inside. There was no room to hold responsible what was human error, after all I took solace in knowing Shayla went home to be with the Lord on December 12^th, 2011. I remembered when she began to first drive, and I gifted her the same wooden cross I had dangling in my vehicle. The cross would have been the last thing her eyes saw, before her car smashed down and careened into the murky, cold waters.

Looking back, I was a soul torn into two- a mother whose child was suddenly and cruelly- ripped away.

It was as if our intertwined spirits, did not know how to accept the abrupt loss and our hearts that beat as one…still had much catching up to do in acceptance.

For Shayla Is my Pārbati

Bound together for life… to fight together and protect each other through life.

IN BATTLE…OUR HEARTS BEAT AS ONE. IF one of us were to die…a part of the other would die inside as well. ~ The Mortal Instruments

Next to the Sanskrit word Vilomah- a word that refers to a parent whose child has died, I could not think of a better word or explanation of the bond that happens between a mother and her baby.

Throughout the 21 short years together, Shayla and I had faced many battles. Some on her own- as in the cruel world of bullying that my daughter battled and in the ever evolving world of mental health. We faced together the harsh realities of those stricken by poverty and addiction crisis, along with the stigma of my own illness.

On the beautiful occasion I was able to see my daughter take a stand for others, it was as if God had allowed me to see His mercy shine upon others. His purpose was her purpose, and her intent was for me to see her strength and embrace her own weaknesses.

When I was nominated for the Courage to Come Back Award, then also one of the many faces of Mental Illness, Shayla proudly shared with a sense of joy! One that is rarely seen with someone who they themselves are struggling for identity.

After her sudden passing, I went on to become a leader for GriefShare- a faith based support group I taught for six months. That only came after two years of counselling and receiving support myself.

Yet if I can offer any insight in ten years of grieving…is this: Emotions are never black and white- neither is light and darkness. While I never succumbed to the atypical source of addictions in alcohol and drugs, I found their was comfort in self-inflicting pain….and no, not in self-harming such as cutting, I found a release in to the darkness connected to my past. One that sees me on a merry go round, where the shadows call my name. In the past ten years- I have been ‘displaced’ without a home three times. I can save the therapy and say, it is because I feel that I am UNLOVED.

With my daughter, we were twins in the sense that joy was shared in a multitude of ways and pain was etched upon our hearts. Both of us suffered from depression and high anxiety. We both, were Survivors of assaults and both of us had been heavily bullied. In times of strife, we turned to one another. We shared the same smile, the same laughter…the same creases in our eyes when our faces were alight with happiness.

The day Shayla died…her car had entered the waters of the reservoir, and the time her last breathe was took…I felt an urgency to check on-line, only to discover they were retrieving her crushed in vehicle, with my daughter passed away- in it. Later, the autopsy report confirmed when she died…my heart knew it!

From there on….I had a choice…seek the light or pursue the darkness.

Many thought, I never would survive her death. I believe they had good reason given the strong bond we had shared, now had been severed.

One of the first things done…was a short hike to an area, overlooking McKinley Landing. Here, a memorial rock cairn was built by my former spouse Paul Padgett. Whatever transpired between he and I, I won’t take away the kindness and love he had for my daughter. I believe my own hurt clouded this and over time, I felt I needed to remove his pain from the two of us. However, he built this memorial right after Shayla passed away and I am including it in the 10 year tribute, as it was the first thing done out of heartache and sorrow.

I also had other important things to focus on…aligning with those whose purpose was to bring safety changed to McKinley Landing Road. Endless road trips, Council held meetings, engineers were commissioned, until finally only months later, nearly a half-million dollars was awarded for those positive changes to occur.

The safety changes to McKinley Road 

Finally, I relented, and the memorial stone was removed. It was heartbreaking as her mother, when I felt the need to constantly share the real truth of that day and what happened. Finally, I gave up on that too, knowing it was pointless. Further down at Dewdney Access #1, due to the donations of Melcor Corporation and The Residents of McKinley Landing, a Memorial Bench was installed, in between two Ponderosa Pines (fitting as they are trees of remembrance). Also, Shayla use to swim down in Okanagan Lake. A balloon release and a few words later, with photos taken of residents Brad and Shane and a bench dedication given…the Memorial bench has been a place for all to come and remember Shayla.

Months later, a phenomenal two-sided remembrance quilt was created by a mother and sister, who Shayla was close to. It was her former boyfriend’s mother who tenderly stitched this together and presented it to me. The front cover of my novel (UTST) has my daughter’s words on it:

“It’s okay to fight…as long as your fighting for someone…or something.”

To honour her Rockhounding, I created The Heart Pebble Movement ~ a cause that saw in over a four year period, between 300- 400 rocks, gemstones and pebbles, be placed all over the world- in Shayla’s memory. 

Shayla's treasured Rose Quartz heart I released back to the ocean, after The Heart Pebble Movement was complete 

In my ten years of blogging, I have written about the endless releases done in locations such as Hawaii, Jamaica, Machu Picchu, various location in England, including Stonehenge and many more! Again, this cause brought me comfort and kept me busy.

Friends and strangers have also done beach tributes, nature tributes out of leaves and flowers, then sent me photographs. I simply cannot include everyone, as my posts are already lengthy.

I’ve shared on her Birthday and on her ‘death day’, how I have brighten the lives of those in need, by gifting treats and sandwiches, coffees all in her memory, as that is what Shayla would want.

When it came time to release her ashes, I travelled to Maui and was joined in love by the locals, who also honoured my daughter's life, with their presence and tears. 

Over the ocean, as I sat on the beaches of Maui, deep in sorrow and after the release of Shayla's ashes, there appeared a brilliant display of transformation...

The last thing I promised my daughter, was the ‘pinky promise’ of the book I wrote. Shayla always understood the purpose of ‘Under the Sitka Tree.’ She knew I was not looking to reap fame or fortune, rather to share my soul journey of survivorship, love found and lost, redemption and forgiveness….most of all….of release.

Last week, I kneeled in prayers and sought what to do to keep ‘Sitka’ going? In what felt like a piece of my heart was broken off…I made the decision to sign a Publishing Contract and place my trust with my formatter, Leon Oldale. This resulted in me having an emotional struggle with truly releasing. For the connection to Shayla runs deep and the book has always held a strong connection between her and I.  

I have kept my promise to my babygirl as I know its what she would want me to do. Part of her life was growing up watching me write and if she were here today, I know she would be sad over the sorrow that threatens to engulf me…My daughter would say: Momma, one day…somebody’s going to love your kind heart and warm soul…

In all of these things, over the past ten years, there has still been a spark that lights up around her memory. For me, it felt like I was completely letting go and it brought me back to the day I stood at the reservoir, to say goodbye.

In reflecting, I feel as if feel I was merely surviving off of her beautiful spark of light and now everything has come full circle. That before me is a place that has only been patiently awaiting me.

YOU DON’T GET TO CHOSE…The light and the dark are both part of you. Whether you like it or not.

I have been very raw and honest about the life I have lived…several times now I have lived out of my small car. Maybe there lays the answer within itself…that without Shayla, I feel there is no real home on this earth.

You cannot run away from grief…it trails you like a violent shadow…Louise Wain’s wife Emily

So maybe that is it…in my weakened and weary state, I’ve finally run out of things to do in her memory and all that awaits is a colossal wave of grief and loss...yet to come.

 …the artist lived a troubled life where often, after momentary happiness, an everlasting catastrophe awaited... Louis Wain was an outcast, a renegade, lonely, frightened yet brave, and resilient. By Sushrut Gopesh

(Shayla) wanted me to keep my promise to finish my book and never stop writing, then I would never feel as if I were alone…when I write I connect with the world…I give them pieces of who I am…in return, they are also relating to me. The spark I feel for Shayla…now that remains a mother’s unconditional love.

By TL Alton 

Mother & Daughter 

VIDEO DEDICATION to Shayla Rae Dawn xox

Freya Ridings - Lost Without You (Official Video) https://youtu.be/tDPpex1wvOc

 

The Years Before

 

WORN -TENTH AVENUE NORTH  

Video: https://youtu.be/zulKcYItKIA

I'm Tired I'm worn
My heart is heavy
From the work it takes
To keep on breathing
I've made mistakes
I've let my hope fail
My soul feels crushed
By the weight of this world

And I know that you can give me rest
So I cry out with all that I have left

Let me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That you can mend a heart
That's frail and torn
I wanna know a song can rise
From the ashes of a broken life
And all that's dead inside can be reborn
Cause I'm worn

I know I need to lift my eyes up
But I'm too weak
Life just won't let up

My prayers are wearing thin
Yeah, I'm worn
Even before the day begins
Yeah, I'm worn
I've lost my will to fight
I'm worn
So, heaven come and flood my eyes…

 

We are made for made in ways that earth does not satisfy. In our current times, when we look to the realm of our world, we are a shattered humanity, each of us seeking something unattainable or at a cost. There is within the beating of our hearts, a pulsating knock that is reminding us of the dust particles from whence we came and will return to… for none of us are going to live forever.

“Collin and his wife, Jordan, wandered through the craft store, looking for a picture to hang in their home. Collin thought he’d found just the right piece and called Jordan over to see it. On the right side of the ceramic artwork was the word grace. But the left side held two long cracks. “Well, it’s broken!” Jordan said as she started looking for an unbroken one on the shelf. But then Collin said, “No. That’s the point. We’re broken and then grace comes in—period.” They decided to purchase the one with the cracks. When they got to the checkout, the clerk exclaimed, “Oh, no, it’s broken!” “Yes, so are we,” Jordan whispered.

What does it mean to be a “broken” person? Someone defined it this way: A growing awareness that no matter how hard we try, our ability to make life work gets worse instead of better. It’s a recognition of our need for God and His intervention in our lives.

The apostle Paul talked about our brokenness in terms of being “dead in [our] transgressions and sins” (Ephesians 2:1). The answer to our need to be forgiven and changed comes in verses 4 and 5: “Because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, makes us alive . . . it is by grace [we] have been saved.”

God is willing to heal our brokenness with His grace when we admit, “I’m broken.”

By Anne Cetas |November 18th, 2021

As I sit in the silence of the early morning hours composing a new entry, I know my time is limited in doing so. For the storm that is outside, now swirls inside. 

My life is soon changing and there is a raw honesty as to what is unfolding. In the midst of this shift is a willingness to share what came before…long before any of what is to transpire.

“The words of Lamentations helped me get up many mornings when the light was as gray as the state of my heart: “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed.” The Hebrew word for “consumed” means “to be used up completely” or “to come to an end.” -ODB

My daughter Shayla grew up with her own storms of chaos and in her strength fought, in putting out little fires, she became a strong force to reckon with. Her childhood, saw her be raised by a mother who battled her mental illness, on a daily basis.

When the mania would strike me, I found myself deeply immersed in community and a passion for helping others. It was my daughter who came alongside myself, to help me fundraise and host events that saw me be a burning star – so full of spark at first and then after the spark of mania fizzled, I would already be onto the next occasion to raise both funds and awareness.

All the while, Shayla would stand by me, her mother that was held together- by particles of light. 

These events would wear me down and I didn’t known at the time, I was feeding an addiction of that chemical imbalance of depression and mania, which saw me say never give up and ‘Impossible means just try again.’

My daughter saw the puzzle pieces of my illness and in figuring them out, she would plea with me to stop feeding the disorder of my Bipolar, the energy it so craved. When I would share with her that just one more time...I realized my addictive traits were simply shining through. The darkness was feeding off the light and I couldn't see the heartache I was causing. Shayla stood by me, time and time again, whenever my BP dreamed up another event or cause to be found. 

This created within her, the routes of wanting to help those in need and less fortunate. 

Throughout the years of teaming up, we managed to care for and assist those in many forms of life.

A fundraiser I created, hosted and held for The Canadian Cancer Society, raised over five thousand dollars with donations for Cancer Research and awareness.

$1,000 worth of meat from Save-On Foods was donated to local Food Bank.

$1,000 worth of supplies; including winter misc. sleeping bags and clothing given to those in need.

Later on, Shayla would be involved twice at TRU, the University she was attending, for the Annual the Camp Out on Campus. She slept outside on cardboard and a sleeping bag, while raising funds and awareness for those in need. 

After Shayla died, and once her Celebration of Life concluded, food was donated to The Gospel Mission.

All the while in my grief, I could hear my daughter (who always saw the best in people) say to me: "Momma, you just have to have faith."

The very last, big event, I held was to raise funds and a $1,000 Bursary Award was given at TRU, in Shayla’s memory.

In the ten years of blogging, I have amassed stories and photographs of my human connections. Times when I relished in the beauty of giving. 

In Victoria, I continued my helping those in need, by joining others in serving pizza's from a red wagon, giving out goodie bags full of chocolates and handing out clean clothing, to those living on the streets.

During my time of living on the Island, I spent many nights, on the streets connecting with others. Compassion goes far beyond a sandwich or coffee; it means to sit beside someone enduring poverty, addiction, prostitution and really put your beliefs where they matter- with someone in need of the light.

I remember one year, I passed along donated Cupcakes to those on the streets, on what would have been the day of Shayla’s birthday. The happiest recipient was another homeless soul, who it just happened to be his birthday, he shared with my daughter. I was unprepared for his tears that wept all over the cupcake, because I saw him and that he mattered. 

Shayla would have embraced this moment because she was an amazing person. Had she been given the opportunity to have children, they too would have been amazing. My daughter, would be the first to say, ‘Momma, when you find the good…you have to hold on.’

There is also a torch I speak of...one that is passed down onto the many others who have helped me, during my times of darkness. It's as if the one spark broke into a thousand pieces of light and people in my life were each given fragments to help me along my way... this quote is not just one person, but a collective group of family and friends, who have come alongside me, as I am slowly falling apart...

"I was in a bad place, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t see my way out then one particular morning when I thought all was lost I received a call…if it was not for her…I wouldn’t be here right now…she was the one who cared enough to stop me…she saved me…so in my moments of weakness…I have my rock(s)."~ Shadow & Bone 

One of my 'rocks' ~ Sarah 💗

So, as I struggle...as I bare witness to things slowly unravelling...know that in order to survive, I am facing my battles, with every ounce of faith I have left... inside of me. 

By TL Alton 

See you Under the Sitka…

 

When you enter the world of serious writing, you leave behind your social life. The closest you’ll get to interacting with the outside world is if you pack up your laptop and head to a nearby coffee shop. At least there you can look like you’re social, even if you’re in the corner, in the back… with headphones on. ~ NY Book Editors

In the summer of 2021, my novel, “Under the Sitka Tree,” was printed. Several months later, as the fallen leaves bathed the earth with nature’s honey, crimson, and lime hues…my novel is now in its third edition and ready to print for the holidays.

 This week, after pouring over every page and going back and forth with my formatter, Leon Oldale @ Still Creek Press… I understood how vulnerable this process is. Now complete are the ‘tweaks’ needed for the Third Edition of ,”Under the Sitka Tree.” While the storyline remains the very same… Leon’s keen eye for details that matter, have made all the difference to my novel! His dedication to the written word has provided “Sitka” with the platform of revelation she truly deserves!

As Adele has re-emerged from the waters, she spent her hands washing in…I have re-surfaced with a hunger for the written word.

 If I go back to myself as a woman, writing by the river, surrounded by a grove of Sitka’s…I can hear the characters shout out my name- wanting to be released from the pages-where I bore them.

 In my twenty -five years as a dedicated writer, I have learned a great deal about the craft of writing. I have understood the passion needed to enrich the novelist’s quest and the realization of fulfillment for one’s story; is to allow the skills of others… inside your writer’s soul.

“ As a writer, I needed to learn that this often difficult, ever so rewarding process, was not mine alone to claim. For if I am to be true to my story, I must acknowledge the caverns I have explored, the humbleness I have found and the truth is…without a skilled editor, without the brilliance of a formatter and the bindings of your book in print…then your story is merely words on a page…yearning to be discovered.” ~ TL Alton

The fire that is inside my writer’s spirit still burns strong within, for every day I have this need to supply the fever with an array of words, passages, and stories so as to quench the epitome of what a ‘starving writer’ truly is.

 As a writer, I have been blessed with a fireball of talented editors, formatters and a printing company that understood my vision. In between the layered pages of my book that is bound, contains the finished version that I am greatly satisfied with!

In spite of my perfectionism, I now understand the importance of ‘letting go' of all things- especially ones that needed to be fully completed... 

Every customer, who either bought my book or someone whose been gifted a copy of my novel, has returned to me amazing feedback; kind responses that have truly warmed my heart. 

There are those who have also provided helpful insight and shared things that are reflective of the light.

I am always humbled by the responses of others, as it means they took the time to share their reaction to something I have written.

While writing “Sitka”, I also immersed myself in the remarkable pairings of Lawrence and Karen Hill exploring mental wellness in Café Babanussa, the rawness of Alzheimer’s and beauty of everlasting love of The Notebook,  and the exploration of grief intertwined with hypersexuality in Cheryl Strayed's WILD.

I grew as a writer, with every word of these brilliant authors, coupled with my own immeasurable loss.

There was also a void in me, a hole so dark and toxic that pulled from a thread of shame, which saw my dignity unravel. A need to be loved at all costs that I was willing to risk every part of me… to return to dust.

Then one night, a spark pierced through the darkness, lighting up the shadows and helping me to see, the source of my murky ways - is connected to the past.

The light that shone in my place of solitude came to say she knew…how badly I wanted to show her the promise had been fulfilled in its dazzling form…within the bindings of my book.

 That night, I wasn’t simply a writer…I was a bereaved mother, who had to sit with my own words wrapped around me, in order to truly honour a promise made to my daughter.

 In return, I could feel her gentle hands upon mine let go, as she said…

 “See you under the Sitka momma…”

Author TL Alton and her daughter Shayla (who passed away at 21). 

Birdy - Wings (Official Video)

https://youtu.be/WJTXDCh2YiA

Just like any other type of art, writing is pain and pleasure at the same time. There’s a lot of sacrifice when it comes to writing, but it’s all more than worth it at the end. ~ NY Book Editors

 By

TL Alton

Thanks to be Given

 

"Be glad for this moment~ for this moment is your life" 

Recently, I watched the film, ‘Silver Linings Playbook.’ While I have seen it a dozen times before, when I viewed it in the enclosed darkness of my room, for the first time… I noticed more important things.

This film of brilliance, poignant moments and utter chaos, echoes within the realm of my Bipolar and PTSD. The quotes from the movie are a plenty and capture the reality of the disorders that it focusses on. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder and Bipolar, all have a front seat to a dysfunctional family that thrives on chaos.

At one point, the character Tiffany shares with Pat about her sordid past and how she likes all parts of herself. Most of all, she can forgive and questions him on his ability to do the same.

I found myself pausing, to reflect on this and its solid truth.

I also have to own that at 1:54 am in the morning, I thought it was a great idea to share a quote from the movie (via email) to a close friend of mine.

Upon waking this morning, I sent a humble note of apology. They kindly wrote back that they understood, as they are seeing a pattern within me that is often random.

Many of you who are reading this, have also received a casual text from me because at 3am, I believe you should know the brilliance of Pinterest…at any hour! lol 😊

This said, over twenty years on my medications, my Bipolar still likes to remind me of my ‘mental imperfection.’

Watching the film, I am prompted to think about my own peppered past. One that has components of things connected to yearning and desire- yet if removed- these two things that lay within, would see the passion exit.

I believe, my messy parts are someone else’s salvation- a place of familiarity and of hope.

As we draw nearer to the Thanksgiving holiday, I have been absorbing the life lessons of 2020.  

I took out a piece of paper and began to write down things that often we take for granted:

Shelter/Home: This time, last year, I was spending my Thanksgiving- alone in my car. At nighttime, when I parked along the highway, the glaring headlights were other souls reminding me of their existence- as each of them were simply passing through.

The blessings of a meal: Over the 7 months of living in/out of my car, often I had only one meal or would need to skip breakfast, lunch or dinner. When I checked my mailbox and saw there was an assortment of gift cards ( so generously given and sent over many months by the Bruton family), I was overfilled with joy!

For I knew, my extended street family and I would be sharing in a meal from Tim Hortons or McDonalds. Never could I walk past Gigi, Truscott, Michael and Tom with food for myself, while they themselves had gone without! I had a general rule that whatever I bought for my meal, I would buy extra for them. For there was no way I could ignore their hunger- in order to satisfy mine!

Shower and toiletries: Having been raised by someone who excels at cleanliness, I enjoy a long, hot shower and the smell of Zest soap on my skin.

Being a novice at the whole living without luxuries, I made an inquiry as to how my friends kept themselves clean? Given the one lake I was parked at had a toxic sign posted- warning swimmers not to partake in the waters, I also respect nature. Washing up with soap and toiletries in any source of water, kills off marine life.

Having worked up north, as Provincial Park Operator, I was elated when my boss Branden, constructed an outdoor shower, completed with a clear canopy that saw one look up into the majestic trees, blue skies and puffs of clouds. I use to love showering in this wonder of creation and occasionally was visited by a squirrel or bird.

Now back at Tim’s, one of the men, sitting in our gathering, shared how the lot of them would go into a washroom and have a ‘toilet bath.’ They used the water as a small basin to clean up in. I was aghast and Tom could see that from the look on my face! He chuckled and remarked, “Why do you think we smell the way we do?”

The next day, with my laptop in tow, I was determined to find a better way to maintain my cleanliness. My research led me to the Community Rec Center, who offered everyday, FREE showers to those in need. I am reminded of their friendly smiles welcoming me in, every time I came to get clean. The feeling of the hot water pounding against my weary soul and dry, weathered skin, felt like a day at the spa!

Returning to my group, I handed out coffees and shared about the local amenities being offered for free. They thanked me, but Michael shook his head and shared his honesty, “Listen that’s all great and dandy, but we are all downtown and the Rec Centre is clear across town- on the outskirts! Some of us have curfews at the Shelter or times we need to check in, plus several of us here have disorders that make taking a bus- a high anxiety situation.”

I looked over at my micra car and wondered how many of them could I possibly fit in and shuttle? It was then as if Tom read my mind and said, “Tonya, you cannot save the world…you need to remember to have self-care for you.”

From there on, I struggled to get into a hot shower and linger under the pulsating water, while others were going without.

Even now, within my beautiful suite, I think of those who are pouring the contaminated water from a toilet, onto their bodies.

The last thing that changed my life forever, was the ability to sleep- to have a deep slumber – one where you could stretch out, rest and fall asleep. The first night in my new, furnished place, I did a starfish onto the massive, soft King mattress and wept all over it! It was a lot to take in and I found myself opening my fridge, to see food in it…all of the new beginnings were overwhelming, and I still find myself thinking I don’t deserve all of this, when so many others are suffering!

Last year, in being displaced, my heart had always been on edge, on guard and I was sleep deprived. I recall one time when I found an underground parking lot, shut off the car, stuffed my keys in my purse and I passed out- sleeping upright. A Security guard woke me up- 3 hours later. He seemed rather timid and when he explained that he thought I was dead, I understood his apprehension.

This summer, also saw blessings with me having surgery on my heart… I am deeply grateful to have a new lease on life!

All of these heartfelt things I’ve shared, is because those truly homeless have taught me so much! Their misgivings were my blessings, for I realized many things I had taken for granted or misunderstood myself.

While this Thanksgiving, I will be alone and I miss my ‘Island family,’ my thoughts will be with the roots of my own blood family, I have reconnected with! It was time for me to come out of the shadows and remind myself what I am now living for…the love and light of those who have brightened my life, shared in their compassionate hearts and reminded me there is indeed, Thanks to be given!

 

By TL Alton

Canadian Fiction Under the Sitka Tree by TL Alton

 Under the Sitka Tree is a Canadian, historical book of fiction.

It is set in the 1950’s, in an isolated, coastal town called Ospero Falls, BC.

The tight-knit community is a place where doors remain unlocked, and people help one another. It is a place that sees children fill their Radio Flyers with home-baked goodies, to sell after church and raise funds- for whatever is needed within their town.

 Due to the influx of various individuals, the mountain has been carved and where there were trees, now there is a settlement of people, who flock to its new beginnings.

Within the close-knit community, resides two, separate families. Jack, Sophia and Christian O’Connelly, along with Victoria and Skylar Falls, all move into the small town. 

Due to trust being broken, each of them carries secrets. Within the ties of community, they seek out their true identities, in order to find healing.

Ospero Falls has deep roots within its citizens, where during Sunday services- no one falls asleep in hearing the Good word. It is where individuals visit, at the homes of those operating the small businesses, which keeps one another alive and thriving. The various cultures living among the mountains see people gather together, to divide up cabbage rolls, baked salmon au gratin and rice balls.

 Engaging in conversations over the latest catch of the day and discussing local chatter, is to offset the conflicts, scattered across the nations.

It is here that a father ‘s close bond with his son is found rooted within the forest. While the nurturing love of mothers, help one another, throughout the difficulties each encounters.

Within the slumber of the forest, awaits a Sitka spruce, waiting for its discovery. Among the towering mass, contained inside, is the pillar of the tree - the heartwood. After tragedy strikes Ospero Falls, the Sitka is found by a young boy. His pursuit leads him to make use of the tree, for a bigger purpose, which changes everything within the townspeople.

For every aspect of light that shines within Ospero Falls, there are elements of darkness. Shadows where domestic abuse lingers and racism threatens, to over spill from another nearby town. Among the various maladies, there are reminders that death- although distant- is in truth, closer to those whose lungs breathe in, the brackish sea.  

In spite of their vulnerabilities and after exposure to a hidden, deadly secret, a little girl finds herself sharing her worries- in the most magical of places- Mother Nature. Her connections to the woodlands run deep; a place for her to trust, discover and play in a place she feels free. When she finds herself among the sprawling canopy of the Sitka, it fosters a protective energy. One that helps offset something, which is cloaked in something sinister.

Love, loss and the awakenings of those who reside in the small, yet thriving community have a connection to mother nature, the fragility of life and the value of friendship.

Under the Sitka tree, is about finding the balance of light, within the darkness. Weaved inside the storyline, are the roots of those, who are all interconnected.

A love story, which reminds us of our own fears and weaknesses.

Under the Sitka Tree, is infused with history that reveals how we embrace one another, in times of conflict. Within a flicker of light uncovered in an old lantern- each character's personal transformations burn brighter…as they seek something… with a greater purpose.

***

Under the Sitka Tree is available for purchase.

www.tlaltondesign.com

by TL Alton