Monthly Archives: June 2014

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Physical Grieving

Guest post by my wife, Faye Richardson Mayberry


“Grief has physical sensations. Our heart is screaming; it physically hurts. There is a knot in our stomach and a sinking feeling happens when we think about the person who is gone. When we think, we feel and when we feel, we hurt.”
My Friend, I Care – The Grief Experience by Barbara Karnes, RN

On January 28th, 2014, the day Ashton died, I was so thirsty. I couldn’t get enough water. My lips were chapped by the end of the day and remained chapped for the next few days, even though I was downing the water.  Carter was hungry. A good friend texted Carter that day and told him, “Remember to eat.”  What a blessing that little text was. I had no appetite. I ate because it was time to eat and Carter needed food. Two weeks later, when the company faded and Carter went back to work, I would forget to eat. I started getting stomach pains and had to make myself eat something so my stomach would stop hurting. When I did eat, I wanted dips. I would buy all kinds of dips, like spinach dip, bean dip, hummus and would eat them with Triscuit crackers or tortilla chips just until my stomach stopped hurting.  My sisters would come and take me out to eat. I needed the company of loved ones, but I also needed someone to tell me, “Let’s eat”. I’ve slowly lost 6 pounds since Ashton died.

Both of us, at different times have felt our hearts hurting. At first I wondered what was going on, thinking “heart attack”, but then someone mentioned to me about the heart hurting when grieving and it dawned on me what was happening. I was experiencing a true heartache.

The first night I didn’t sleep at all. Carter slept for 2 or 3 hours. We gradually started sleeping a little more each night. I couldn’t take naps because when I was still and quiet my mind would start going over THE day and I couldn’t sleep. We were so exhausted at the end of the day that we went to sleep easily but would wake up early, at about 3:00, thinking. That’s when I would cry. I remember waking up during the early morning, the week after Ashton died, wondering if that really happened. Was it a dream? It wasn’t. It really did happen. For quite a few weeks, we felt weary. Then it turned into just plain tired. There’s a difference. Carter still needs naps during the day and will sometimes take a nap at the office. Most work days he also takes a nap after he gets home from work so he can make it until bedtime.

My heart really did physically hurt. I can now say I know what a heartache feels like.
My stomach did hurt.
On quiet days when I had time to think and feel, I did hurt.

From the things I’ve read about grieving, I am grieving in a normal way. But there is not one normal way to grieve. Others will grieve differently than I. They will be normal too.

It has been 4 1/2 months since Ashton died. I never would have guessed 5 months ago that we would have a child buried in the St. David cemetery. I thought this would be a little bump in Ashton’s road and he would get better like most people do. I know about the Savior’s Atonement. I am studying it now. I believe in it and I am grateful for it, but I now have much more Hope in it. The Atonement is real. It’s not just for when we leave this earth. It is for here and now. What a beautiful blessing that Atonement is. More of a blessing than I can ever comprehend while I still live and physically grieve on this earth.

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Why We Write

Here is a guest post from my wife, Faye Richardson Mayberry:

“Writing makes us think. It makes us sort everything out, gives scattered thoughts an orderly place in our lives.”
My Friend, I Care – The Grief Experience by Barbara Karnes, RN

Writing has been very healing for us. We want to keep healing, so we keep writing. We have also felt the need to share our experience with others. I am a fairly private person and sending my writings out to the masses is not me, usually. I cannot deny, though, the promptings I’ve received to share my grieving experience with other people.  Carter started his blog and I have felt the need to help him. We hope that it will be helpful to those who need to hear it.

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Happy Fathers’ Day!

This is my Fathers’ Day post. Honestly, I’m a little raw right now — I miss my son, Ashton! I know where he is (in the Spirit World) and that he is safe and that I’ll see him again — but…if I had my choice, he’d be with us still on this earth.

Some random thoughts, in no particular order:
a) From the Book of Mormon, Mosiah 2:41, we read, “Ye should consider on the blessed and happy state of those that keep the commandments of God. For behold,…if they hold out faithful to the end they are received into heaven, that thereby they may dwell with God in a state of never-ending happiness.”
b) I didn’t know Ashton’s heart as well as God did, but, as his earthly father, I think I knew it pretty well. He was a good person. He accepted Christ as his Savior and Redeemer. I don’t think he really wanted to end his mortal life; he was trying to end the pain and mental anguish that tormented him. In his “broken” and irrational state of mind, suicide must have seemed like the only way out. He chose a “permanent” solution (as far as mortality is concerned) to a “temporary” problem (the severity of his mental illness) — I think he would have gotten gradually better had he been able to hang in there. I hope that those who read this who might be contemplating suicide understand that those thoughts are NOT rational; they are coming from your “broken” mind, also! Please get help!
c) As Ashton’s father, I have a very small taste of what our Savior, Jesus Christ, does and will do for us — as our advocate with our Heavenly Father. I am not perfect like Jesus is, so don’t have that to offer for my son, Ashton — but I do love Ashton and I like to think of the great mercy our Heavenly Father is extending to Ashton. Because Ashton’s mind was broken, I don’t think he will be accountable to God for having taken his own life. Ashton’s irrational decision to end his life will be swallowed up in the Atonement of Christ, which makes all things right which are unfair about our mortal existence. One of the sympathy cards we received simply said, “I’m sure Ashton did his best.” That brings so much comfort to me! I’m also sure he did!
d) I’d like to list some memories I have of Ashton:
  • He was born April 30, 1992, in Rockford, Illinois, when I was in my Family Medicine internship. Faye had struggled with depression, so we weren’t sure if we would have any more children. We were grateful for this “window of wellness” when she could. She spent several days in the hospital during the pregnancy from vomiting and dehydration. When he was born, he had to stay a few extra days in the hospital because of jaundice. Faye’s birthday is May 4. That year, all she wanted for her birthday was to bring her baby home — and she did!
  • On July 1 of that year, we moved to Aurora, Colorado, where I completed the final two years of my residency. I remember Ashton learning to walk on his own when I was serving as the camp physician at an Easter Seals camp in the Rocky Mountains for disabled children. Ashton was such a happy baby! He was so welcomed by Faye, me, Candace (7.5 years old) and Jordan (5). I would read him bedtime stories and help him get ready for bed. Those are now especially treasured memories!
  • When Ashton was 2, we welcomed Jacob into our home. The day before he was born, we canned dry goods in Denver. Ashton played with his toy trucks on the floor of the cannery as we worked, Faye being “great with child”!
  • One of Ashton’s favorite church nursery teachers in Aurora was Julie Piper, whom he called “Sister Bopper.”
  • In August 1994, we moved to Whiteriver, AZ, where I worked for four years on the Apache Indian Reservation. We lived in the housing behind the hospital there. Ashton loved to play in the huge water puddle that was nearly perpetual during the rainy season in the street below our house. He liked to go sledding in the snow during the winter. He attended kindergarten on the reservation. Neither he nor any of the Apache kids seemed to notice that he was the only white kid in his class! He had a little girlfriend there, Ariel, whom he kissed on the cheek. He played T-ball there in the summer. He also played soccer. At family council, he would proudly display his soccer medal. When we would ask is he had anything to bring up, he was almost always say, “I won my soccer game!”
  • In August 1998, we moved to St. David, where he completed his schooling. He was a good student. He enjoyed Cub Scouts. One of his favorite leaders was Eugene Merrill, who helped him earn all his Webelos activity pins. He also earned his Eagle Scout award. I enjoyed hiking and camping with Ashton.
  • Ashton was very good on the piano. He could play almost any hymn in the LDS hymnbook. He also learned to play “Hedwig’s Theme” from “Harry Potter” and “In Dreams” from “Lord of the Rings.”
  • Ashton was the best overall gamer I’ve known. One New Year Eve, he and I stayed up past midnight playing “Lord of the Rings Risk.” I think he won; it was very rare that I beat him.
  • Ashton rode with me one year in the 25-mile El Tour de Tucson ride. He did a great job. I think we went out to eat afterward.
  • Ashton was a very gentle person. Unfortunately, at the end, I think he lost the ability to be gentle with himself; his broken mind had lost the ability to see the good in himself.
  • When Faye called me at work on January 28 informing me of Ashton’s suicide, as I drove home, I prayed aloud, “Father, help Ashton to know and feel now how much I love him and how much You love him!” I don’t think Ashton’s broken mind could feel love from those around him nor from God. Again, I’m grateful for the Atonement of Christ, which heals all things broken. I don’t know how or when that happens, but I do have faith that it does happen. I like to think that that happened immediately upon Ashton’s death.
e) I have been learning about grieving. It’s common for people to feel physical pain with grief. I felt that today myself: I can best describe it as a dull ache near where my heart is. It’s not a “physical” ache, but rather more of an emotional/spiritual pain I felt as I missed my boy on Fathers’ Day.
f) Thanks for listening. This has been somewhat cathartic and healing for me to put these feelings down in writing.
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Trust God

My current favorite scripture is Proverbs 3:5-6 — “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”

Trust Him. Another father whose son also died by suicide several years ago pointed out that this scripture doesn’t say to trust Him with the part of my heart that I understand. I need to trust Him with everything I don’t understand, which is a lot for me right now — and I’m betting there’s a lot of that right now for you folks, also.

The Book of Mormon prophet, Alma, taught his son, Helaman, “…I do know that whosoever shall put their trust in God shall be supported in their trials, and their troubles, and their afflictions, and shall be lifted up at the last day.” (Alma 36:3)

For the past several weeks, I have been reading these scriptures aloud every morning and then will say aloud,”I believe that!” I DO believe that — with all my heart!
I am reminded often that I have a Father in Heaven who knows me and who loves me perfectly. I love Him. I trust Him!
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Seth Godin and Writer’s Block

I just listened to an excerpt from Seth Godin’s “The Icarus Deception.” He pointed out that “speaker’s block” doesn’t happen, but “writer’s block” does. He suggests writing something — even if it’s bad — as often as possible. I’m going to write a paragraph daily for the next week.

This is today’s paragraph. The end.

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Value Proposition

This will probably come as a surprise to many of you, but I have a confession to make (“tongue in cheek”): I’m a perfectionist. I have been “stuck” on how to approach writing what I have learned from Ashton’s death. Author David Allen (“Getting Things Done”) teaches to determine what the next step is. Today I decided that my “next step” is to solicit input on what author Michael Hyatt calls my “value proposition”: why would anyone want to read what I have posted? Well, here is my value proposition. Please give me your frank feedback:

“I am a father whose 21-year-old son, Ashton, suffered from depression and took his own life on January 28, 2014.

“I help those who are touched by the suicide of a loved one understand what I have learned from Ashton’s suicide so they and I can find healing and peace.”