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.