It was about 4 years ago, around this time of year, after the first real frost, when I received the first phone call that Aurora had snuck out to the horse barn in the middle of the night. This became an important part of her legacy.
Originally, when her dad decided to start her in horseback riding lessons, they used a loaner horse. When she started to show a true ability for racing, he split a horse with a stable owner and Snickers was her first riding partner. She was the best kind of childhood happy when she was on that horse.
For her 6-and-a-half-birthday (a story worthy of its own post), she begged for a horse of her own. So, less than a month later, they went to pick up a horse. There were two available: both around the same size, both male. One, a solid milk chocolate color with a dark almost-black mane and tail. The other, black and white with a pattern like paint splattered on the side of an old trash can and a mane like a zebra. It was her choice. And she started crying and shaking her head "no", unable to explain herself.
It took 20 minutes for her dad and uncle to calm her down enough for her to divulge her dilemma: she couldn't choose. Not because she wanted them both equally, or because she didn't know which would be a better horse for her; but because she couldn't handle the idea of separating them. She said she'd rather go home without a horse than leave one behind to be lonely. So, naturally, her father bought them both.
Fast forward to an almost-9-year-old Aurora, on the phone at 1 AM, in trouble with her uncle (and me) for sneaking out to the barn:
Me: Aurora, why are you in the barn?
Aurora: I didn't want Oreo to be lonely.
Me: What about Hershey? We have TWO horses because you couldn't leave one behind, sad and lonely!
Aurora: Yes, BUT Misty and Ash [the barn cats] both sleep with Hershey. I can't tell them what to do, but I can still make sure Oreo isn't lonely.
Well, if that isn't the innocent love and simple logic of a child.... How can you argue with that? How could I tell this child that she was in trouble for looking out for the horse we brought home, making the promise to always look out for him?
Please, in the easiest of ways, keep your promises. Look out for the people (and animals) you love.
More graffiti later,
~A
Thursday, November 9, 2017
Thursday, October 5, 2017
Aurora Grace
Yesterday, a child died. She took her last breath holding her uncle's hand. She was 12.
Eleven years ago, I held this little girl on an emergency room bed while she cried through double pneumonia, strep throat, and an ear infection on both sides. She was 21 months old.
Eight years ago, the tiniest of hands squeezed mine as we walked into a courtroom. Happy tears and tight hugs after hearing "Congratulations on your new daughter", we left as a family. She was 4.
Five years ago, she stumbled off the deck and broke her wrist. She took second place in her barrel racing competition - with a cast on. Her comment to the winner was "beat me with a broken bone and then you can talk". She was 7.
Three years ago, in July, a game of tag turned into an accident that would alter the course of our lives forever. A closed skull fracture, traumatic brain injury, 3 shattered thoracic vertebrae, kidney trauma, a broken humerus, and a fractured patella. Brain and spinal cord surgery performed by the top pediatric neurosurgeon in the country. He said "If you believe in prayer, now would be the time" as he scrubbed in to surgery. It was her half-birthday. She was 9.
Over the course of those next 16 months, there would be several close calls and ambulance trips. She was excited to be part robot, disappointed in missing her dance recital, and devastated when we told her she could no longer ride or race her horses. There were also phone calls celebrating the wiggling of toes for the first time, the first steps after she learned how to walk again, and the occasional "but Mom, it's only one horse trail" pleading. She got herself grounded, learned how to fly, and started running as soon as they said she'd never walk again.
A month ago, she fell at home. The damage was irreparable. She remained in a persistent vegetative state.
Over the weekend, her uncle and I made the decision to stop life sustaining measures so her suffering could end.
On Tuesday, we chose organ donation.
Yesterday, the machines were turned off and at 3:16pm, she took her final breath.
Over the next hours, even days and weeks, several lives will be saved with organ donation or partial organ transplants. Countless others will be helped with bone marrow, tissue donation, and stem cells.
Right now, her Godfather's son is in a transplant surgery receiving her eyes. An 8-year-old boy with a congenital defect will be able to see his little sister clearly for the first time. We will be able to visit their family and see her sparkle in his eyes.
Early this morning, a team of doctors completed a heart transplant surgery on a 22 year old woman who was born with a congenital heart disease. On Monday, they had given her a week to live.
My daughter was their miracle. Much like she has always been mine. This was her purpose in this world.
Aurora Grace brightened the world for twelve years, eight months, two weeks, and two days.
For eleven years and sixteen days of it, she was my daughter.
I am shocked, I am devastated, but I am grateful.
More graffiti later,
~ A
Eleven years ago, I held this little girl on an emergency room bed while she cried through double pneumonia, strep throat, and an ear infection on both sides. She was 21 months old.
Eight years ago, the tiniest of hands squeezed mine as we walked into a courtroom. Happy tears and tight hugs after hearing "Congratulations on your new daughter", we left as a family. She was 4.
Five years ago, she stumbled off the deck and broke her wrist. She took second place in her barrel racing competition - with a cast on. Her comment to the winner was "beat me with a broken bone and then you can talk". She was 7.
Three years ago, in July, a game of tag turned into an accident that would alter the course of our lives forever. A closed skull fracture, traumatic brain injury, 3 shattered thoracic vertebrae, kidney trauma, a broken humerus, and a fractured patella. Brain and spinal cord surgery performed by the top pediatric neurosurgeon in the country. He said "If you believe in prayer, now would be the time" as he scrubbed in to surgery. It was her half-birthday. She was 9.
Over the course of those next 16 months, there would be several close calls and ambulance trips. She was excited to be part robot, disappointed in missing her dance recital, and devastated when we told her she could no longer ride or race her horses. There were also phone calls celebrating the wiggling of toes for the first time, the first steps after she learned how to walk again, and the occasional "but Mom, it's only one horse trail" pleading. She got herself grounded, learned how to fly, and started running as soon as they said she'd never walk again.
A month ago, she fell at home. The damage was irreparable. She remained in a persistent vegetative state.
Over the weekend, her uncle and I made the decision to stop life sustaining measures so her suffering could end.
On Tuesday, we chose organ donation.
Yesterday, the machines were turned off and at 3:16pm, she took her final breath.
Over the next hours, even days and weeks, several lives will be saved with organ donation or partial organ transplants. Countless others will be helped with bone marrow, tissue donation, and stem cells.
Right now, her Godfather's son is in a transplant surgery receiving her eyes. An 8-year-old boy with a congenital defect will be able to see his little sister clearly for the first time. We will be able to visit their family and see her sparkle in his eyes.
Early this morning, a team of doctors completed a heart transplant surgery on a 22 year old woman who was born with a congenital heart disease. On Monday, they had given her a week to live.
My daughter was their miracle. Much like she has always been mine. This was her purpose in this world.
Aurora Grace brightened the world for twelve years, eight months, two weeks, and two days.
For eleven years and sixteen days of it, she was my daughter.
I am shocked, I am devastated, but I am grateful.
More graffiti later,
~ A
Monday, September 18, 2017
Content
As I finish up a couple things and get ready for bed, I take a moment to pause and soak in my surroundings:
~ Netflix plays on the TV, while the pedestal fan softly hums in the corner.
~ Soft classical music plays in a nearby apartment; the sound of it melds with the slight rain falling outside, the mix enters quietly through the screen door.
~ A text message pings in; a reassuring message from a friend.
~ Arturo hides behind the toilet, Manny sprawls in the middle of the living room, and Queen Roy stands watch over the water bowl.
~ Buster is in rabbit jail facing assault charges, while Apollo wanders the apartment aimlessly.
~ A pecan-pumpkin-cake scented candle burns on the coffee table, emitting a soft glow and releasing a sweet aroma.
~ The faint breeze coming from outside adds a freshness to the apartment; the fuzzy warmth of a hoodie enhances the near-perfect level of comfort.
~ My partner snores gently on the couch across the room; a peaceful representation of chaos experienced mere hours ago.
This is my Sunday night. It is not what I envisioned as a child. This life is not the innocent fairy tale ending I dreamed of throughout my adolescence. As a young adult, I did not imagine this as a path I would take. No part of this depicts the result of any five-year plan I've come up with in my past.
But thank God plans change. This is better than the visions I had as a kid. This is happier than the storybook ending a teenage version of myself dreamt of. This bumpy road has led me to the happiest place in my life. No part of this is typical, but every part is glorious.
I am more in love with myself than ever before in those previous life plans. I am overwhelmed in these moments where I feel completely content.
This is imperfect, messy, and completely unpredictable. Perhaps that's why this is my happily ever after.
More graffiti later,
~A
Monday, July 17, 2017
Missing Yourself
Do you ever miss yourself?
The you you were before your first heartbreak? That changes you - the way you feel safety in a promise someone makes to you.
Do you ever miss the you you were before the first time you had to alter the path of your life? That changes you - the sense of adventure you feel when you talk about the future.
What about the you you were before someone broke your trust? That changes you - the new apprehension you feel when you think about letting someone in on the secrets of your world.
Or maybe the you you were before you first failed at something? That changes you - it clouds the way you think about taking risks.
Is it the you you were before you saw some of the evil in the world? That changes you - it thickens the walls of your comfort zone.
On occasion, do you miss the you you were before someone you called a "friend" walked out of your life? That changes you - it develops an internal concern that other friends will also make their way for an exit.
Perhaps you miss the you you were before you lost someone you loved? That changes you - people we love often take along a piece of us.
Do you ever miss yourself?
Because sometimes I do.
More graffiti later,
~A
The you you were before your first heartbreak? That changes you - the way you feel safety in a promise someone makes to you.
Do you ever miss the you you were before the first time you had to alter the path of your life? That changes you - the sense of adventure you feel when you talk about the future.
What about the you you were before someone broke your trust? That changes you - the new apprehension you feel when you think about letting someone in on the secrets of your world.
Or maybe the you you were before you first failed at something? That changes you - it clouds the way you think about taking risks.
Is it the you you were before you saw some of the evil in the world? That changes you - it thickens the walls of your comfort zone.
On occasion, do you miss the you you were before someone you called a "friend" walked out of your life? That changes you - it develops an internal concern that other friends will also make their way for an exit.
Perhaps you miss the you you were before you lost someone you loved? That changes you - people we love often take along a piece of us.
Do you ever miss yourself?
Because sometimes I do.
More graffiti later,
~A
Thursday, July 13, 2017
Supporter
Okay, guys. Most of you have met my mom. If you haven't met her in person, you've probably seen her commenting on Facebook and almost everyone agrees: she's pretty great!
On top of always loving my friends as if they are our family, taking care of everyone she meets, and making sure all is well with all her loved ones, she supports me NO QUESTIONS ASKED.
Yesterday, I sent her a picture of some snacks I recently discovered and asked her to let me know if she found them anywhere. I told her "If you find these in a grocery store will you let me know? I've only seen them at holiday and it's frustrating lol" and this is the rest of the conversation.
Mind you, I AM the type of person to casually drop a "oh, by the way, I also recently fell in love" so she's not off-base by checking.... But she never misses a beat!
I am amazed that there are still people in the world that don't care about their children's feelings enough to say "Well then f*ck the rest of societal norms, I love my child NO MATTER WHAT" because there is already so much bad in the world, kids need only the best from the people at home.
My mom often says "I wish I could've done better at this" or "I tried my best at that" and points out the mistakes she made along the way but it means nothing! I've always known that if I need something, my mom will be there at a moments notice and she will always have my back. She has supported me and my decisions, without hesitation, for almost 28 years! (I say almost because I'm not quite 28 and she definitely questioned - and was unhappy with - my decision to hang out in utero for an extra 4 weeks! Sorry about that, ma...)
Be the type of person the next generation writes blog posts about!!
More graffiti later,
~A
PS: Iluwamh, Mother!!
Friday, July 7, 2017
Fragile
Look around you and notice how many people are near. Not right this moment, but throughout the day as you go on with your life, notice them. They are fragile; each and every one of them. Your presence or absence, words or silence, positive energy or negativity - all make a difference at any given time. Be the good in the world, because there is already too much bad.
I wrote this, thinking about the inner spirit that stays dormant in individual people. How breakable some are, how strong others may be.
Notice the people around you, and don't fail to acknowledge their spirit.
More graffiti later,
~ A
Deep in my soul, there lies the unbroken spirit of a girl who is still a hopeless romantic.
I keep her thoughts to myself because the world is not particularly kind to girls like her.
On occasion, little cars from her train of thought will derail and come out during conversation; those are moments in which we feel truly vulnerable.
Often, I wish I could set her free but that would be condemning her to pain and loneliness. A life void of love is the most miserable kind of living one can do.
She is safe where she lay; cloaked in a life surrounded by people who give love freely, inside a soul with the same seeking passion as that of her own.
She lives a life of veiled happiness, for she creates her own love and destiny is in her control.
Wednesday, May 17, 2017
10:42
I've said countless times before that there are moments in life which can clearly define a "before" and "after" state of living. A moment so profound that it alters the course of your future and your perspective of your own past reality.
May 13, 2015 at 10:42am is one of those moments for me. I remember exactly what my life was like before that moment, in that moment, and since that moment. Instantly, the world around me came to a screeching halt and my life's train derailed from its tracks. When an integral part of your everyday life disappears before your very eyes, it is the most abrupt thing a person can experience. When someone you love becomes nothing more than a memory, you can only react.
Why that moment? Because that moment is when I became aware of the reality in which I would soon be forced to exist. The beginning of a 17-minute phone call. A phone call I had been hoping never to receive, but also in the back of my mind been waiting for. Hearing the words "I'm here with the body of Christian Everett and I have been given specific instructions to contact you with some detailed information" stopped me like a stone.
Chris was gone, and this time it was forever. There was nothing I could do to intervene.
This moment in time happens to be exactly 12 hours (to the minute) since I spoke to Chris for the last time. And it happens to be exactly 3 days later (to the specific minute, again) when I arrived to retrieve his belongings, his cremated remains, and the letter he had left for me. This phone call is when I knew that these other moments would forever hold significance.
I've been heartbroken before - more times than I care to admit - by people I loved who ended up being a disappointment, by men I gave my heart to who walked away without a proper goodbye, and by the universe choosing to toss up a roadblock just when things feel like they're finally coming together. But no drifting apart or breaking up compares to the same kind of heartbroken pain and no amount of previous grief can prepare you for the world to turn on end simply by answering a phone call.
Nothing can prepare a person for losing someone because they chose death over life. Because their struggles were too much for them to handle; because they could no longer find the energy to fight, simply to survive another day - no matter how much you loved them.
Love can not heal broken people.
A little louder for those of you in the back: LOVE can NOT heal BROKEN people.
You can love them with everything you have, in every moment of every day until the end of time, and they will still be broken until they are ready to be healed.
It took me 2 years to realize that this was true and there was nothing logical for which I should feel guilt. No matter how many people said the same words, I needed to accept it for myself, in my own time: there was nothing I could have done to alter the outcome of the events from that night.
It took 2 years, a handful of loving friends, countless tear-filled nights, endless hours of soul-searching, and more love lost for it to FINALLY sink in: You can not save everyone; you can only love them.
You can (and should) love them and support them, but you can not heal and save them.
And that is no one's fault.
More graffiti later,
~ A
Why that moment? Because that moment is when I became aware of the reality in which I would soon be forced to exist. The beginning of a 17-minute phone call. A phone call I had been hoping never to receive, but also in the back of my mind been waiting for. Hearing the words "I'm here with the body of Christian Everett and I have been given specific instructions to contact you with some detailed information" stopped me like a stone.
Chris was gone, and this time it was forever. There was nothing I could do to intervene.
This moment in time happens to be exactly 12 hours (to the minute) since I spoke to Chris for the last time. And it happens to be exactly 3 days later (to the specific minute, again) when I arrived to retrieve his belongings, his cremated remains, and the letter he had left for me. This phone call is when I knew that these other moments would forever hold significance.
I've been heartbroken before - more times than I care to admit - by people I loved who ended up being a disappointment, by men I gave my heart to who walked away without a proper goodbye, and by the universe choosing to toss up a roadblock just when things feel like they're finally coming together. But no drifting apart or breaking up compares to the same kind of heartbroken pain and no amount of previous grief can prepare you for the world to turn on end simply by answering a phone call.
Nothing can prepare a person for losing someone because they chose death over life. Because their struggles were too much for them to handle; because they could no longer find the energy to fight, simply to survive another day - no matter how much you loved them.
Love can not heal broken people.
A little louder for those of you in the back: LOVE can NOT heal BROKEN people.
You can love them with everything you have, in every moment of every day until the end of time, and they will still be broken until they are ready to be healed.
It took me 2 years to realize that this was true and there was nothing logical for which I should feel guilt. No matter how many people said the same words, I needed to accept it for myself, in my own time: there was nothing I could have done to alter the outcome of the events from that night.
It took 2 years, a handful of loving friends, countless tear-filled nights, endless hours of soul-searching, and more love lost for it to FINALLY sink in: You can not save everyone; you can only love them.
You can (and should) love them and support them, but you can not heal and save them.
And that is no one's fault.
More graffiti later,
~ A
Friday, May 12, 2017
Gone
Almost everyone who knows me knows the story of how Chris came into my life, and how he left it.
For the last 2 years, I've wished I could have just one more conversation with him, just so things could be finished properly. I'm done wishing.
After 2 years of questioning why and trying to pinpoint a reason, I've finally found one.
I still believe that everything happens the way it's intended to. That there is some cosmic energy lining up the paths that are supposed to cross and creating obstacles to block the ones that aren't.
After 2 years, I've finally let go of the "what if's" and started living my life for the "why not's." Just as Chris intended.
Tell people how you feel because that opportunity may vanish after a moment, but the regret of your own silence could haunt you more than you possibly imagine.
People come, and people go. Remember to let them.
~ A
He promised her they would do it together. And then he left.
He told her they could weather the storm hand in hand. And then he left.
He swore to her there would be strength in their partnership. And then he left.
He said there would be good days along with the bad ones and assured her that as long as they had each other, they would make each day their own. And then he left.
He made a commitment to their recovery. And then he left.
He listed the benefits of changing bad habits into healthy ones, convincing her the changes would be worth it. And then he left.
He helped her find a path. And then he left her to pave it for herself.
So she did.
For the last 2 years, I've wished I could have just one more conversation with him, just so things could be finished properly. I'm done wishing.
After 2 years of questioning why and trying to pinpoint a reason, I've finally found one.
I still believe that everything happens the way it's intended to. That there is some cosmic energy lining up the paths that are supposed to cross and creating obstacles to block the ones that aren't.
After 2 years, I've finally let go of the "what if's" and started living my life for the "why not's." Just as Chris intended.
Tell people how you feel because that opportunity may vanish after a moment, but the regret of your own silence could haunt you more than you possibly imagine.
People come, and people go. Remember to let them.
~ A
He promised her they would do it together. And then he left.
He told her they could weather the storm hand in hand. And then he left.
He swore to her there would be strength in their partnership. And then he left.
He said there would be good days along with the bad ones and assured her that as long as they had each other, they would make each day their own. And then he left.
He made a commitment to their recovery. And then he left.
He listed the benefits of changing bad habits into healthy ones, convincing her the changes would be worth it. And then he left.
He helped her find a path. And then he left her to pave it for herself.
So she did.
Friday, May 5, 2017
Desires
A little bit of creative writing for you!
Really, it's just punctuated graffiti.
~ A
Once in a while, she catches herself lingering a little too long for what she tries to pass off as a "glance".
Occasionally she finds herself wandering through the open fields of daydreams where their futures are sunflowers in full bloom; soaking in sunshine together, loving and beautiful.
Sometimes, she gets stuck entertaining suggestions that taking action could inspire a change and things could realign and become a path to brightness and happiness with life.
Constantly, her heart and brain are at war with each other. Her feelings - too intense to ignore - are contrasted by the fear of rejection, and the agony of realizing that some things aren't meant to be. Perhaps they never were.
Ultimately, she realizes she's spending time planning for things that won't happen. She resigns to an unending span of days ahead, hoping in each hour for a strong longer-than-usual hug, a sweet kiss on the cheek, the gentle brush of his hand upon hers; the short glimpses of intimacy so many take for granted. She thrives powerfully on the tiny encounters in which he is solely hers; she desperately clutches them, willing them to sustain her until the next moment comes along.
She loves him, and he her. The remainder, a difference between familial love and the love of a soul.
Really, it's just punctuated graffiti.
~ A
Once in a while, she catches herself lingering a little too long for what she tries to pass off as a "glance".
Occasionally she finds herself wandering through the open fields of daydreams where their futures are sunflowers in full bloom; soaking in sunshine together, loving and beautiful.
Sometimes, she gets stuck entertaining suggestions that taking action could inspire a change and things could realign and become a path to brightness and happiness with life.
Constantly, her heart and brain are at war with each other. Her feelings - too intense to ignore - are contrasted by the fear of rejection, and the agony of realizing that some things aren't meant to be. Perhaps they never were.
Ultimately, she realizes she's spending time planning for things that won't happen. She resigns to an unending span of days ahead, hoping in each hour for a strong longer-than-usual hug, a sweet kiss on the cheek, the gentle brush of his hand upon hers; the short glimpses of intimacy so many take for granted. She thrives powerfully on the tiny encounters in which he is solely hers; she desperately clutches them, willing them to sustain her until the next moment comes along.
She loves him, and he her. The remainder, a difference between familial love and the love of a soul.
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