Candace and Ashton Mayberry ~ March 2010

“Tears don’t hurt like the ache does.”

~Anne Shirley from the movie “Anne of Green Gables”
By Candace (Mayberry) Evans, Ashton’s sister

Anne Shirley is just what I needed today to feel at peace about the lack of tears, overall, I have had to go along with my often aching heart over my brother, Ashton’s, passing. I was wanting the tears because I felt bad that they weren’t coming…I thought they should be: My brother is gone! I miss him! I’m sad he left this earth the way he did! That deserves tears, no?!

I can usually cry when I need to, no problem (just ask my husband! ☺️). I *wanted* them to come. I literally felt emotionally constipated (only way I can think to describe it, sorry!). But still no tears.

So today I put on one of my all-time favorite movies, “Anne of Green Gables,” which is based on the written work of the same name by Lucy Maud Montgomery.  I honestly put it on to see if it would help me get some tears to come. Weird tactic? Maybe. ☺️ But I was getting desperate for some healing tears!

The movie got to the part towards the end where Anne’s beloved adopted father, Matthew, dies. It then shows her adopted mother, Marilla, awaken at night to the sound of Anne crying in her bedroom. Marilla goes to Anne to give her comfort and says, to paraphrase, that “It isn’t right to cry so…God knows best.” Anne replies, “Tears don’t hurt like the ache does.”

In the book text of “Anne of Green Gables,” also after Matthew dies, it reads: “Anne hoped that tears would come in solitude. It seemed to her a terrible thing that she could not shed a tear for Matthew, whom she had loved so much and who had been so kind to her…But no tears came at first, even when she knelt by her window in the darkness and prayed, looking up to the stars beyond the hills–no tears, only the same horrible dull ache of misery that kept on aching…”

Anne Shirley understands. OH how the ache hurts more than the tears! But she finally got her tears to ease the ache…and today…so did I.

Red & Blue game with Jordan & Rubi ~ Oct. 2014

We did it! We made it to the Red & Blue game! Ash would have loved it. He would have loved to be there, sitting next to his dad and brother, cheering and talking to them about the stats and players. It was bitter sweet for me. I’m not really a crowds person. I’d rather watch the game at home on television. But, I went in honor of Ashton. I wanted to go for him.  I saw where we sat when Ashton was with us last year, in the top section on the front row, just to the left of the Sean Elliot shirt on the wall. I didn’t think it would be a big deal to see that, but it was a big deal. I kept thinking about it and looking up there. I finally stood up and took a picture of the area. I guess I needed to do that. My brain wasn’t obsessed with that spot anymore after I took the picture.

On the way home I did a lot of thinking. Is basketball important in heaven? Does Ashton even care about basketball any more? I also had a good cry on the way home. I don’t do that as much as I used to, but sometimes I need to. I don’t really think too deeply about Ashton being gone. I try not too. But there are times when I need to let myself think about him. I HAVE to think about him sometimes. This boy that I gave birth to… this boy who I was responsible for…. the boy I worried so much about… the big, gentle guy who  loves Baconators from Wendy’s, Willcox apples and fresh raspberries. He’s gone. He will not be with us anymore for the rest of my life. Sometimes that’s hard to bear. Sometimes it’s amazingly hard for my mind to comprehend. Sometimes it’s just plain painful…. and I have to let myself feel that pain.

Carter and I both came home from the game ready to write. We both are typing and crying right now getting our grief out and letting our words absorb that grief. I’m grateful we have this outlet. ….I already feel  better…. more calm.

Thank you Heavenly Father for Ashton. Thank you for letting us have him for almost 22 years. Please take good care of him. I know I can count on you. You knew and loved him before I did. He’s your son too.

Written by Faye

UofA Red & Blue game with Jordan & Rubi Oct. 2014

When King David’s son, Absalom, was killed, his mourning is recorded in 2 Samuel 18:33: “And the king was much moved, and went up to the chamber over the gate, and wept: and as he went, thus he said, O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son!”

Ashton Mayberry ~ Missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints ~ Fiji Suva Mission.

Ashton died at about 11:00 am on Tuesday, January 28, 2014. That afternoon we were at my parents home discussing the funeral. Who would speak? What music would there be? Who would be the pall bearers? We were still in shock.  I was able to sit and talk and plan. It had to be done. We had to do it.

I remember asking my mother, “If I’m going to be grieving, I want to grieve correctly. How do I do that?” I remember her looking at me and saying, “Well, honey….. ” and I don’t remember the rest. I just knew I wanted to grieve the right way. I like to do things right. If there are rules in a certain situation, I want to follow them. I wanted to know what the rules were for grieving. I wanted a checklist to check off.

I chuckle now as think back on that. I was serious. Rules for grieving?

I’ve read a lot about grieving in the past 8 months trying to find those rules. There are none. No rules. There are healthy ways to grieve and unhealthy ways. Of course… I am trying my best to go in the healthy direction. That’s just how I work.

In my favorite little five minute read about grief, it says:

“We need to understand grief is a normal, natural reaction to the loss of someone or something. Each of us is going to handle our grief in our own way, just like we handle any other emotion.

Some of us will show our grief. We’ll cry, look sad and withdraw from those around us. Some of us will hide our grief. We’ll cry in private and wear an “I’m doing fine” face in public.

Still others of us pretend, even to ourselves that we’re OK, not hurting. We’re the ones who keep very busy. We run because if we slow down, we’ll hurt.

What we must remember is, male or female, cry or not cry, we will feel and experience grief. When we accept the grief, the hurt within us, we can begin to move forward in a healthy manner. How we express grief is not an issue, that we allow ourselves to feel the grief is very important.”               My Friend, I Care – The Grief Experience, Barbara Karnes RN

I have been all of these things. I still do some of these things and more. There’s the numbness…. been there. There were times when people would come up to me to tell me how sorry they were. They would cry and I wouldn’t. I loved and was grateful that they said something to me, but I wasn’t feeling any sadness at all. I would think, “Hey, I’m doing great. I can handle this.” Nope. I was just numb. Normally numb. The sadness came back.

There were times when I would hide away in my home, wanting to stay there forever. It didn’t last for long. We needed bananas. I had appointments. My children and  grandchildren needed me. My church meetings were calling me. I needed to be there. My church family needed to see me there. So, I would go. Turns out…the times when I was the most reluctant to go out, someone would be there who needed to talk to me. Someone who was also hurting and knew I would understand. More than once, I have heard, “I was hoping I would see you.” I would come home refreshed and reminded that there are no coincidences and The Lord is in charge. I don’t have a counseling degree, but somehow seem to be involved in it these days.  Does it come with the territory I’m in now? It’s good to help and listen. I’m comfortable in that mode.

Rules for grieving? I’ve discovered we all have our own. No checklist. We just need to let the grief come, and let ourselves feel it…. in our own way… in our own time.

Written by Faye

Ashton ~ 6 months old

I sat by a little bruiser while waiting for an appointment today. A little guy about 6 months old, strapped to his mom in a baby carrier. Square head, blondie, big blue eyes, big features, all boy. Cute as heck!

Ashton was born in Rockford, Illinois when Carter was at the end of his first year of medical residency there. He was my biggest baby, weighing 9 pounds, 8 ounces. We moved to Aurora, Colorado when Ashton was 2 months old. Candace and Jordan started school and it was just Ash and I at home. We had a great time together. He was a good napper and my little shopping buddy. Once we were in line to check out at the grocery store. There were three firemen behind us. One of them commented to me, “He’s a little bruiser!” Picture the little guy I described earlier and that’s  baby Ashton. He was all boy, too. Nothing petite about him. He would melt into you when you held him. He quickly acquired the name Squish. We’re a nickname family and that name evolved over time into many other Squish-like names. He was a gentle little guy who woke up happy from his naps. We all liked to go in and see him do his happy dance in his bed.

These memories are sweet to me. I’m grateful for those baby years I had with him.

It’s interesting that he was called a little bruiser then. He grew up to be one of the most gentle souls I know. He liked everyone to be happy and comfortable. He especially liked to make me happy. He was so kind and helpful to me. It was clear on the day he died that he was trying to make it as easy for me as possible. I’m the one that found him. Even in the unimaginable turmoil going on in his mind, he was aware of me and my comfort. He might have been called a little bruiser once, but there was nothing about his character that merited that name. I would call him a little… no… BIG blessing.

Written by Faye

Carter and Ashton on his first bike in Whiteriver, AZ, age 4.

This is Carter. What have I learned from Ashton’s death?
…that God loves His children, including me and my son, Ashton.
…that God is good, loving and kind.
…that there are MANY things that I do not understand and WILL not understand in this lifetime — and that’s OK.
…to trust God. He understands ALL things and will help me understand, also — in His own way and in His own time. I need to prepare myself to recognize when God is helping me understand.
…that it’s important to get proper rest, exercise and nutrition.
…that there are many people suffering in many ways that I am not aware of — so it’s important to be kind.
…to be humble.
…to not judge other parents or their children .
…to forgive.
…to find solace in The Bible, The Book of Mormon other scriptures and words of living prophets, the temple, fasting and prayer.
…to build my “house” upon the “Rock” of Jesus Christ. He is the ONLY thing I can count on 100% of the time!
…that there are many others in the world who have been affected by the suicide of a loved one.
…that there are so many good and kind people who love Ashton and who love us.
…that the sealing ordinances of the temple are real and powerful. The authority Christ gave to Peter anciently to “…Whatsoever ye shall bind on earth shall be bound in heaven…” also exists on the earth today. Ashton is our son throughout the eternities. What solace that sweet doctrine brings to a grieving father!
…that the Atonement of Christ swallows up my sorrows and the inequities of life.
…to be kind to myself.
…to be kind to my wife.
…of the healing power of my being in the mountains and in nature.

This is Carter. I have been absent from posting for awhile for several reasons. Faye’s posts have been amazing, touching and heart-warming. Doing some self-analysis: maybe I didn’t want to detract from her posts? Maybe I was subconsciously intimidated by how amazing they were and was afraid I wouldn’t “measure up”? Some of it frankly was time and energy: I’m a “morning person,” but, on weekdays, my mornings are spent exercising and preparing for work. My brain is “fried” in the evening and just not up to posting about Ashton. I decided to try posting Sunday mornings — when I’m fresh and unhurried — most the time.

A friend pointed out that Faye and I will touch different audiences; there are people out there who need to hear what Faye says the way she says it and there are others who need to hear what I say the way I say it. There are also some who will benefit from both of our posts.

It has been a blessing to read Faye’s posts and to reflect as I have been writing, also.

I can’t tell you what a blessing YOU have been as you have read, shared, liked and commented on our posts. Again, if you find this (and other) post helpful, please continue to do the same. There are probably others that we don’t even know or know about who might benefit from what we are learning and sharing.

God bless you!
Carter

Ashton with Uncle Nelson Richardson

I stockpile Kleenex. I have to. Yes, we use a lot. So, I keep a big stack in my storeroom. I’ve decided that is what I want to share when I visit someone who has had a death in their family. I’m a practical gift giver like my mother is. I want to give something that will be needed and used. Kleenex is perfect.

I dropped some by a friends house today. They are having their turn. No one was home, so I left the boxes at their door for them to find when they get home. As I drove off, I was reminded of the boxes of Kleenex left at our door. Tears came as I remembered pulling into our driveway, seeing them there. I remember that feeling….. it was like my heart was smiling.  Those boxes were so much more than needed Kleenex. They meant that we weren’t alone in our sorrow. They meant that someone knew what we needed. They meant that someone was trying to tell us they are sorry that our Ashton died. They meant that someone remembered Ashton and us.

I hope our friends feel that when they find their Kleenex. I hope they will feel they are not alone. I hope they will feel my sorrow for them. I hope they will feel remembered. Maybe their heart will smile too, for just a little while.

Last Sunday, I sat in a Sunday School class where they were talking about  people in the Philippines who survived a typhoon. The person telling about the experience reported that the people responded to their concerns by saying, “We’re Ok.”

I’ve noticed that many people who have gone through some real struggles in their lives respond that same way when asked how they are doing,”I’m OK”. I find myself saying that exact same thing when someone asks me how I’m doing.  I’m not super. My son died 8 months ago. In fact, he took his own life. Some days I’m more OK than others. Some days I’m really not OK.

I think the term, ‘OK’, is a good middle of the road answer when asked that common greeting, “How are you?” I feel like I’m being truthful when I answer that way. I remember once when a good friend asked, ” Are you OK?”,  early on in the grieving time.  She could tell I had been crying. I answered truthfully, “No, I’m not,” and completely broke down. I can’t answer that way to everyone, but felt I could then. It was safe with her.

One of the definitions of OK in our old dictionary says: ‘All Right’. Hmmm…. Maybe OK  isn’t the right response for me. I’m not all right. But then again…. maybe it is the right response. I WANT to be all right. I PLAN to be all right. I’m just not there yet. Maybe saying that will help me get there. You know… wishful thinking?

I think there are many, many people in the world who are not all right, but still go about their day doing things they need to do, taking care of the people they need to take care of, doing the every day necessities that HAVE to be done. Maybe that’s how we get to be all right? Forging ahead and not wallowing in our struggles? Maybe we never get to be all right. Maybe we have to wait until our earthly existence is over to be all right.

I am a believer. I believe in a God I cannot see, though I can feel Him and see his majesty all around me. I believe He wants me to be happy.  I believe His great and wonderful plan was for me to be here. I could never make it through losing Ashton without  my Heavenly Father’s love… without His Son’s Atonement… or without His Holy Spirit to comfort and guide.

I believe my Heavenly Father knows I’m not all right. I believe he puts people, events, and words in my life, to help me… to help me feel peace and to help me have the hope that I WILL be all right. Because I believe this… I know I will be OK… even though I’m not all right.