This Storm Will Pass: Anger

The door slammed causing everything in the house to jolt in surprise.  Picture frames hung on the wall swayed back and forth.  A few of the piano keys chimed in unison.  The loud echo of the slam, still ringing in all of our ears, caused us to freeze where we were.  Moments following this we heard loud crashing of objects being thrown at the door and walls of Teage’s bedroom.  Ashlee and I both stopped preparing lunch and prepared ourselves for what we would have to combat.  Everything seemed as it was moving in slow motion as Ashlee quickly opened the door and slid into Teage’s room.  I waited in the family room feeling frantic and uneasy.  I quickly picked up Tytus and watched the girls as they were on the kitchen floor reading through books and playing with dolls.  Shouting came from the room; shouts of anger, fear and heartbreak.  Tension rose in the room so I quickly walked over to the CD player and turned on the CD we always listened to during broken moments like these.  The screaming got louder as well as the pleading and cries from a young boy.  I recognized the affect it was having on the rest of the children and me as I became aware of the darting eyes filled with fear and confusion.  I increased the volume once more on the CD player.

 Within only a few brief moments following that, Kaleeya took some of Bostyn and Bailey’s toys from them and refused to give them back.  Bailey and Bostyn already on an emotional roller coaster shouted out in anger and quickly pulled the toys out of Kaleeya’s hand.  Not missing a beat in the drama, Kaleeya wound her hand back and slapped Bailey hard in the face.  Just at that moment Ashlee walked out, snatched Kaleeya up and took her up to her room to talk.  There was yet another door slam.  I now sat in a room of crying children and questioned to myself, how are we ever going to make it through this day.  I silently pleaded to my Heavenly Father that I would be given the strength and words to face this day.  I comforted Bailey, and sent her and Bostyn into another room to play.  I put Tytus down in his swing, and stood prepared and ready for what I would next have to face.  I stood outside of Teage’s door as I heard small hands hitting the surface of the wood.  As my shaking hand clung to the handle on the door I awaited the right moment to enter.  Right as my gripping hand began to turn the handle, Ashlee came bounding down the stairs as tears flooded her eyes.  She looked at me and silently screamed, “I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE!! WHY US? WHY THEM,” pointing to her children.  She then sprinted to her room and another door was closed.

I stepped away from Teage’s room not knowing where to enter at this point.  Anger filled that home, bounded against every wall, and into every gap of the home.  Anger even filled my heart.  I sat down all of a sudden feeling exhausted, betrayed, and frustrated.  In watching the outburst of anger in the home, I too had become angry.  Angry with Emmett for not recognizing what he had.  Angry with the choices he had made.  Angry with the choices of the man holding the gun that night.  Angry with the investigators for not having all of the answers, angry with the questions of where I was and what I was supposed to be doing.  Why them? Why us? Why me? 

The front door opened and quickly slammed.  I looked up to see Ali walking around the corner the tears streaming down her face.  She walked quickly past me and made her way into the closet to sit and hold Ashlee as they both held each other in frustration and sadness.

This was by far the most memorable and hardest day for me at Ashlee’s house.  It was worse than any nightmare or situation that I could have thought up in my mind.  The light had diminished and darkness was prevalent in the home.  Anger is such a real and strong emotion.  If you have felt anger in moments of dealing with death, sickness, divorces, or moments of betrayal, know that you are not alone.  It is normal for everyone to go through this stage.  In this stage our mind is beginning to step out of the stages of denial, and it is the first stage of addressing the actual problem and making sense of our situation.

Generally when we confront moments of anger we are quick to ask the “Why” questions.  For those of you who have felt anger or are feeling anger at this time, know that it is normal.  It is OK to ask why, just don’t get stuck in the whys.  This stage of anger generally comes with a realization and a frustration as your mind tries to make sense of the situation you are confronted with.  If someone around you is angry at this time, have patience and consistently love them. So many times we want to have all the answers to fix problems.  This is not one of those easily fixed problems, but here are a few things you can do.

1.       Let them know that you love them unconditionally no matter what.

2.       Be patient with them.

3.       Allow them to feel angry, but don’t allow them to stay in that stage.

a.       Help them get active again

b.      Help them stay positive about their future

c.       Find things everyday to be grateful for

d.      Help them recognize their strength and their need to move on

4.       Give them space and time

5.       If they feel a pity party is necessary, allow it, but know when to intervene.

6.       Always address someone full of anger calmly; you don’t need to make things worse.

If you feel stuck in the stages of anger, find ways to get out of it.  It might be running it out at the gym, or writing down every hateful or fury driven thought so that it is no longer weighing on your mind.  Know that you can do this and that there are great things ahead.  Free yourself from this burden and allow yourself to live.  Anger just weighs you down and is a poison to all around it.  Get rid of it and know this storm will pass.

Addressing the 'Elephant in the Room'

I have been humbled by sweet comments of support, and those willing to share their questions and experiences on grieving.  This is just one of the first posts directed to those of you who are trying to help a grieving child.  Everyone mourns differently.  I am hoping that by sharing lots of different approaches and experiences, it might spark some ideas or possible solutions to the questions and answers you are seeking.

                A few months ago my thoughts wandered back to memories and experiences of living with Ashlee as it has so many times.  I thought of the crying babies, the endless tears, the questions, and the heart flickering pains. I also thought of the happiness and the good times.  The moments of laughter where kids were being kids, and saying the adorable and hilarious little things they say.  Singing “We All Live in a Yellow Submarine”, at the top of their lungs, all versus might I add, every morning and night for a month.  Don’t know if they know all the words to it anymore, but I sure could pop out a performance of it.  Moments of watching and re-watching tangled until we all could mouth the words to every song and scene. That summer had changed all of us, through the tears of joy from laughing too hard, to the tears of sorrow.  I guess you could say it was the refiner’s fire that molded us into the people we are today.

                This time as I thought back , I thought specifically about Bostyn.  Once so carefree and full of excitement in the world, now full of fear and sadness.  Excited about life and adventurous, now not wanting to venture ten feet from the safety of her family.  Once full of confidence and assurity, now darting eyes and questioning her beauty and self worth. Where had that little twinkle in her eyes gone, or that extra hop in her step? Bostyn was the one on my mind.  She was the reason for the phone call.  My heart told me something was wrong, and I prayed that I would know the right thing to say and do.  Ashlee and I had spoken hours before this call, and she had reassured me of what I felt I already knew, sweet little Bostyn needed help.

                The phone rang and feelings of inadequacy weighed heavy on my mind.  How was I going to help this little girl see her worth?  How was I going to reassure her that life would be good and that these little knocks she is experiencing, only will make her stronger? How was I going to address the subject of talking about losing her father and the feelings she is harboring there?

                The ringing stopped.  Ashlee answered and excitedly handed the phone over, and Bostyn’s sweet voice came on through the other side.  Bostyn didn’t sound like herself.  I asked her multiple questions regarding school, friends, and life in general.  She told me she didn’t really like school.  She felt like she was having a hard time finding a good group of friends that she felt safe, loved, and included with.  She told me that she wanted to be home schooled because that would allow her to stay with her mom all day long.  I listened and offered words of encouragement.  I told her that as hard as school and friends can be at times, they are both good things.  That maybe she is supposed to go to school so that she can be a friend to someone else feeling the same way she is.  I knew most of her fears and heart break came from the tragedy she had experienced at such a young age.  My mind quickened as I tried to think of possible ways to talk about the ‘elephant in the room’, so to speak.  Without a thought to the direction I was going in I said to Bostyn, “Hey want to hear something cool?  Have you ever thought about how much we have in common?  Like we both have twins in our family, we have amazing moms, and both of our Dad’s are in heaven?” There we have it, the bomb was dropped. Bostyn’s voice for the first time lit up as she responded to my question.  I then continued to address the issue by talking about her Father Emmett’s funeral, asking her if she remembers it like I remember my Dad’s.  She mentioned things that I had never thought a young child would pick up on.  She was so aware of the feeling in the room, the emotions felt by all around her, the many hugs she received, and that her dad was gone.  I asked her if she remembered about visiting me and my family in the Boise hospital during my dad’s last few hours.  I will never forget what she said in response to this question.  She said, “Tiff I remember coming and giving you a hug and not wanting to let go.  I remember you held me for a long time, and I remember feeling sad. It was all so sad. I remember everyone at the hospital was really sad that day, and that Uncle Dave had lots of machines hooked up to him. I remember thinking, why does Uncle Dave have to die too?”  What a profound little thought for such a young girl.  She had experienced so much loss, at such a young age.  We finished our conversation that day by talking about how our family is always going to be there for one another.  We talked about our Dad’s being friends in heaven, and how they are watching over us, and most likely laughing at the silly things we do.  We had gone from two complete polar opposites within the context of our conversation.

We have all in some way been victims to loss, disappointment, and sorrow.  Some of us have been willing to share our feelings, while others of us choose to hide our problems and move on with life the best we can.  Some want to talk about it, share memories, while others cringe at the mention of their lost ones name or memories.  As hard as it may be, and as much as it hurts, I challenge you to talk it out.  It does no good keeping those feelings and emotions inside.  We say people don’t understand, but are we letting them in to understand?

To those struggling to work with their grieving children, it takes time.  Not only does it take time to listen, but it takes time for children to fully process it to the point they are ready to share and talk about the way they are feeling.  Find a way to get down on their level.  Talk about things they love, things that are important to them.  Sometimes we wonder why others around us are not opening up to us, yet we refuse to open up ourselves to them.  When we ask a simple question of what is wrong, we will get a simple answer.  Choose to listen. My mom always said, “Remember, there is a reason God gave us two ears and one mouth.  You need to listen twice as much as you talk.” Their responses might not always be what you want to hear, and that is ok.  Think positive and set little goals for yourself.  If it makes you cry every time you mention their name or speak of them, start slowly. Don’t be discouraged if others lash out in sadness or anger and don’t want to talk about it or listen to what you have to say. Remember, everyone grieves in their own way. Be understanding that they are hurting, but don’t give up on confronting and facing the issue.  I promise you though excruciatingly painful and difficult it might be, it will get easier. 

I can’t stress enough how important it is to open up channels to talk about the person you are grieving over.  Share funny memories.  I tried to share memories with the kids that summer as much as I could.  Bostyn and Baileys’ favorite one was of their dad taking care of them as they were babies.  With two babies there is double the spit up, double the diapers, and double the mess.  Emmett had laid both of them down in front of him one day while I was visiting, and made up his own little jingle about them.  He sang these words to his own melody, “A poopin and a fartin and a pucking and a poopin and a fartin and a pucking.”  As gross and lacking in creativity as it sounded, the girls loved it and thought it was hilarious.  Whatever might bring you joy, find ways to laugh again.  If the children are having a hard time, and struggling to find any semblance of hope in their lives, take a look at how you are living.  We as adults set the tone.  If we are positive, they will learn from our actions.  I promise you that the Lord never gives you anything that you can’t handle.  If you feel you are being tried too much at times in your lives, think about how much faith and love the Lord has in you to put you through your own refiner’s fire and melting pot.  It has made you the person you are today, and you should be proud of yourself. Be proud of who you are, and the challenging fight you have endured to become that person.

The Uphill Climb

There is always light even in the darkest of times.  My cousin Ashlee’s blog has been that light for many seeking answers, comfort, and questions of strength and courage.  Many questions have come in about the grieving process, and how Ashlee has been able to find strength even during the darkest times.  This blog specifically talks about my experiences through my own trials, and my experiences of living with Ashlee and her sweet family the summer following Emmett’s death. I will share the moments that strengthened me, my process through going through the stages of mourning, as well as advice on how to help those around

you grieving or going through such hardships. 

Each day felt as if we were drowning, barely making it by.  Ashlee and I panicked about everything.  We never let the kids out of our sites, fear of loss and losing another had overcome us.  Many sleepless nights were spent up with babies and scared children.  I wanted to reach over and tell Ashlee and the kids that this was just a bad dream, because that is what I wanted to believe.  At times it did feel like a dream.  Those nightmares you feel like someone is running after you and you want to scream but can’t speak.  You want to run, but your legs aren’t cooperating, and you just sit there in misery waiting for this horrific experience to be over.  Whether we were dreaming or living, the nightmares in that house had become our everyday reality.  Not a day went by that tears did not cascade down every one of our faces.  It was as if we were running a half marathon uphill with no water breaks or chances to stop and take a full breath.  The kids asked questions frequently about death, about guns, about choices, and about their future.  They spoke as if they had no hope in their life, as if they were going to wake up the next morning and something else or someone else so precious and dear to them was going to be a fallen victim. 

Multiple times after Ashlee would leave for court, doctor and therapy appointments, a heavy breeze of fear would wash over the house.  Each time I would look passed the kids long eyelashes and into their beautiful eyes to reassure them that all would be well. I longed to find the words to melt away and mend their feared expressions.  There were moments I felt at a loss of what to say and what to do.  It reminded me of the movie Pearl Harbor when there are fighter pilots zooming overhead, and everyone is trying to remember all of their training in order to fight back and survive. Each of them under attack fighting with everything they have in order to stay alive. Within this moment the nurses are being bombarded with patients being brought to them in hundreds.  After a soldier carries in a fallen nurse, one of the nurses responds in a panicked cry, “I don’t know what to do.”  That statement came to me over and over again.  So many times I didn’t know what to do.  I didn’t know whether to hold my crying cousin or try to stumble over words of comfort.  I didn’t know whether to tell her children that all would be well, or that life would be normal again, because I didn’t know if all of that was going to happen, and they couldn’t handle anymore heartbreak.  You could say that the household had allowed fear and loss to diminish our hope in the future for a small time period. 

One thing I was sure of, and one thing I did know was that we had the comfort that our gospel brings us.  We would talk about Eternal families.  We spoke of having faith over our fear.  We sang songs often and spoke of our Heavenly Father’s love for each of us.  I told them that if we were ever scared or concerned, we could call upon our Heavenly Father and he would give us strength.

One night Ashlee went out to run some errands and have some time to herself.  She had a large load on her shoulders, everyday faced with more to think about and deal with.  I was excited for her to have a break to cope and have some alone time.  I read and sang songs to each of the kids, said prayers, and tucked them safely into their beds.  It had been a long day and my body ached from the emotional and physical strains of that day.  As I sunk into the couch I stared at the family picture on the wall.  I thought of how heavy each of the hearts in the picture had to be, including Emmett’s.  Ashlee’s full of questions, Emmett’s full of regrets, and the kids full of sadness. After only moments of analyzing this picture, a panicked cry that caused the hair on my arms to stand came from upstairs. Without any thought to my level of exhaustion, I sprinted up the stairs and into Kaleeya’s room.  I didn’t say anything, sometimes nothing needs to be said.  Instead I grabbed her from her place in the crib and held her as she cried.  I rocked her back and forth for ten minutes until I finally asked her what was wrong.  I longed to take away all of her problems.  After time had passed she quivered and said, “I scared Tiffy, I scared.”  Truth be known, I was too, but I looked at her with a smile on my face and said, “Kaleeya you don’t need to be scared, I won’t let anything happen to you sweety.  I love you.” 

I sat on the small bed in the corner of her room grasping onto this little child wishing that I knew how to help her.  Wishing I knew the right thing to say and the right thing to do.  Moments like these led me to want to know more about helping children.  I wanted to know how to confront and address these issues.  I wanted to know the right things to say and the right things to do.  I didn’t want a young innocent child to have to feel confusion and pain like this, and definitely didn’t want to find myself in a situation like this again.  Not knowing what to say or do, and not knowing how to bring comfort.  This was one of the first experiences we had that summer.  We did learn to cope.  We learned ways of handling mourning, ways of overcoming our trials, and ways of loving life again.

For the last three years following this tragedy I have focused my education on helping others.  In a year from now I will be a certified Child Life Specialist putting my focus on bringing hope and light to children’s lives even in the darkest of times.  Through this blog I will be sharing personal experiences and the tools I learned to mend my life as well as others.