Another “guest post” by my wife, Faye Richardson Mayberry
Solace. I saw that word today. It intrigues me. It’s not one we use every day. It’s not a word I hear about often. I do remember hearing it in a hymn we sing at church.
“Where can I turn for peace? Where is my solace, when other sources cease to make me whole?”.
It’s not something we want to HAVE to find, because it will take going through some HARD things for us to want to seek after it. Maybe that’s why it intrigues me now.
Just looked it up:
Solace – 1 : Alleviation of grief or anxiety 2 : A source of relief or consolation
Relief…my eyes linger on the word…thinking of Ashton…knowing he was looking for that. I really don’t believe he was trying to end his life. He was too gentle of a soul for that. I believe he was looking for a release from the misery in his head that he couldn’t tell anyone about.
Turns out… our searches are similar, his and mine.
His broken mind wouldn’t let him feel the love God has for him. He couldn’t find that relief here. I do think he has found it now. Not in the way I thought it would come…but I believe he now knows how much we ALL loved him.
“Where is the quiet hand to calm my anguish?
Who, who can understand?
He, only One.”
My son’s life was too short, his death came too soon. But, I am so blessed to know that I can find my solace in the life and death of Jesus Christ… though sometimes in my grief I forget.
Sneaker Waves
Sneaker Waves… my aunt warned me about them. She said they could come when you least expect it.
We were visiting in a relatives home. They had THE CUTEST little 2 year old grandson who looked very similar to Ashton when he was that age. It made me happy to watch him run around and be cute. I got to hold him and squish him…he let me. It was heaven…but it brought on some intense emotions that I thought were behind me. I was caught off guard. I thought I was over that kind of heartache.
Today, July 28, 2014, marks 6 months since Ashton died. I didn’t realize it until my daughter reminded me. At times I think I’m doing really well and will think to myself, “I can handle this, I’ve got this under control.” Then other times, like now, I wonder, “How can I ever get through this? Will I ever feel normal again?” Someone told me, “You just have to find a new normal.” I’m looking for that new normal. Haven’t found it yet. I am optimistic that it will come. I would like it to come soon, please.
I know that I have a Heavenly Father who is watching over me some way, some how. I don’t know how that works, but I know He does that. I know that He knows me and loves me. I am His daughter. I know that He sent his Son so I won’t have to feel this heartache alone. I know that I am never alone.
I’ve just experienced my first sneaker wave. More are coming, I’m sure, someday…and when the next one comes, I will not have to experience that one alone either.
Life’s Important Things
Another “guest post” by my wife, Faye Richardson Mayberry.
I’ve been thinking lately. I do that A LOT these days. I was sitting at a traffic light waiting my turn… I noticed all the cars going by and waiting next to me. It used to be REALLY important to me what kind of car I drove. Now I’m just glad I have one that runs and takes me to visit my children and grandchildren. It used to be really important to me that my kids hair was cut and fixed just right. Now I’m just thrilled when they are near, that I can touch their hair and that they are breathing. It used to be super important to me which row I sat in at church. Now I’m just happy to be in the building and sit anywhere as long as Carter is next to me. A shopping trip to Tucson used to be the highlight of my week with lunch at Sweet Tomatoes. Now, it’s a good day when I’m driving the opposite way on the freeway over to the Gila Valley Temple, then lunch with a sister or a family dinner at one of their homes.
Priorities and things are changing for me. Thanks Ash for helping me to see what is and isn’t important in life.
Vinyl words on my wall say: “The Most Important Things In Life Aren’t Things”. I put that up a few years ago. I thought I knew what that meant then. I had no idea.
I have an appointment to order Ashton’s headstone today. I’m not sure how I feel about that. It needs to be done, but it sure seems final setting something in stone. Is he really buried there? The little marker says that’s him. The note attached to it from a friend is written to Ashton. The old UofA colored balloons, lifeless on the ground, suggest they were for Ashton. The flowers my friend said she put there on Memorial Day are still there. I do remember the graveside service. It was the dusty blue casket Candace chose for Ashton that was lowered down into that grave. I do remember my little granddaughter, Hannah, sitting next to me, inconsolable, as the casket was lowered. It must have been Ashton in that casket. She adored him.
I do remember that Mayberry tradition …. men taking turns shoveling the dirt into the grave and filling it back up. I love that tradition. It gives the men who don’t let themselves cry have a way to get out their emotions. I do remember so many vigorously taking part in that, even some women and children.
I do remember a little niece asking for a flower from one of the arrangements. We went over to get one out and then all the children wanted one. Ok… let’s do it. I wanted them to be a happy. Then the sweetest little flower frenzy started and I let them go for it. They were having way too much fun! Did Hannah put that first flower in the dirt? I don’t remember… but the kids took over and “Ashton’s Fiji Garden of Love”, as Hannah declared at the end, started taking shape. Our sad little graveside turned into a beautiful expression of love that only children can produce. I apologize to those who sent us those flower arrangements, but not really. You didn’t know you would be contributing to a beautiful memory for our family. The children stripped those arrangements clean! After the flowers were gone, they took the ferns too, which just added to the tropical look we now love in flowers.
I feel the need to attach a picture so anyone reading can smile and see. What should have been a sad, sad ending… was not. We all walked back to our cars a little less heavy hearted because of what we had just witnessed. Children are such a blessing.
Ok… here I go. Yes, Ashton IS buried there and he needs a proper headstone so we can find his grave easily and tell that story…..that story of the children and the flowers…Ashton’s Fiji Garden of Love.
Written by Faye
I Am Not What Happened To Me
Another “guest post” by my wife, Faye Richardson Mayberry
I found this and it has stayed with me. I can’t get it out of my head, nor do I want to. I needed to find this. I need it to sink deep:
I Am Not What Happened To Me. I Am What I Choose To Become!
Family Reunion Love
Family Reunion. Heber, Arizona. Apprehensive about a family meeting discussing Ashton. I want everyone to be comfortable. Want to talk. Not sure if everyone else will want to. This can be an uncomfortable topic for some. Anxious. Essential oils help calm me. My sweet sister in charge reads a scripture, Alma 40:12. Sing, “I Am A Child of God” together. First question for us, ” What have we learned?” I can’t answer. My mind is blank. I HAVE learned but nothing comes. Knot in my stomach. It hurts. Carter takes over. Want to cling to him. So blessed to have him to grieve with. (Father, help me. I want to do this.) My breathing slows as he speaks. Feel calmer. I can do this. More questions. I can answer now. Start to feel the love from them. I know them. It was always there. Love fills the room. Feeling Ashton near, “You can do it, Mom!” I tell them some special things. Feels so good to talk, cry with them. Family prayer together. Thank you, Brother. Love you. Lots of hugs and, “I love yous”. Late nite, but good. My family, my best friends. Couldn’t do this with out them. I sleep so well. Wake up and think. Thank you Heavenly Father…I think I can make it now.
*Driving to the family reunion. Almost there. Four year old grandson, excited to get there: “Everybody is gathering at the family reunion so everyone can love each other.” Yep! He already knows. That’s how it works, little buddy!
This Life Is All About The Body
This is another “guest post” by my wife, Faye Richardson Mayberry:
I went to lunch with one of my sisters in Thatcher and she told me, “Ashton is free. He doesn’t have to deal with his body any more. This life is all about the body.”
I’ve thought a lot about that last sentence of hers and it’s so true. This body we have is all consuming for us. Much of what we do on this earth is taking care of our bodies. We feed it, water it, wash it, cover it, work it, rest it, exercise it, and do our best to keep it feeling well. Big bodies take care of little bodies.
This life IS all about the body.
When Ashton was born, April 30, 1992, he had to stay in the hospital for a few days because of jaundice. It was hard for me to leave him there while I went home. I finally got to bring that little body home on my birthday, May 4th. He was my birthday present. I took care of that little body for a long time. So, when Ashton died, I still felt very responsible for that bigger body. I stayed with him until my dad came to pick him up. Carter and I helped to load him in the van. We went down to the mortuary and helped unload him. I was so glad my dad was going to be the one taking responsibility for him. It would have been very hard to leave him with someone else. My dad told me later that in all his years in his profession, he has never had a family member participate in loading the body of their loved one on the stretcher. I’m including that here, not because I am anyone special. All I knew, at the time, is that I had a huge need to be sure his body was taken care of. He was MY boy and my mother instinct was running at full force. I was like a lioness protecting her cub, and I was responsible for him as long as he was on this earth.
One of the first things I missed the most when Ashton was gone was that body. I was used to him sitting at my table, laying on my couch, sitting at my computer, laying in his bed. I missed the spirit that lived in his body, the one that smiled at me, ate my food, sat by me in church, joked with his brothers, and played with his nieces and nephews. I missed touching him and rubbing his head while telling him good night before going to bed. I still do.
I believe that we lived as spirits before we came to this earth. I believe that as we came to this earth our spirits were given a body to dwell in. I believe this body we have been given is a gift from God. We are responsible to take care of it the best way we know how. I did my best to help take care of Ashton’s body…my very best.
Godly Sorrow
I really want to sorrow, grieve and mourn the way God would have me do. What am I to learn? Who can I help or serve through my grief?
When I was in the temple near Thatcher yesterday, I spent some time in the Celestial Room studying scriptures under “Grief” and “Sorrow” in the Topical Guide. I feel closest to God when I am studying scriptures in the temple – ideas and feelings come easily there. I continued my study of “Sorrow” this morning.
In 2 Corinthians 7:10, we read “for godly sorrow worketh repentance to salvation…” I had only thought of that scripture as a relates to sorrow for sin. With Ashton’s death as a backdrop, this scripture takes on an added meaning for me: perhaps as I mourn as God would have me do, that can lead me to humility, which can help me recognize flaws that require my repentance and further reliance on the Atonement, which leads to my salvation.
I was also reading in the July 2014 issue of the Ensign magazine, published by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The last article is about a father and son on a canoe trip. As they neared their destination on the opposite lakeshore, they encountered a very strong headwind that essentially stopped their progress. The son said to his father, “You’re looking at the waves, Dad. You won’t get anywhere doing that. You’ve got to keep your eyes on the shore. See that tree on the hill? That’s our goal. Focus on that, and we’ll make it.” As the father did so, they made gradual progress and did reach the shore. Later, he reflected on teachings by current Prophet and Church President Thomas S. Monson, who taught about the lighthouse of the Lord: “It beckons through the storms of life. It calls, ‘This way to safety; this way to home.'”
In The Book of Mormon, Another Testament of Jesus Christ, a group of people were led by God from Jerusalem to the American continent – the promised land. God miraculously provided for them a “compass” or “director,” which guided them through the more fertile parts of the wilderness to the seashore, where they constructed a ship to sail to the American continent.
Later in The Book of Mormon, the prophet Alma taught his son, “For behold, it is as easy to give heed to the word of Christ, which will point to you a straight course to eternal bliss, as it was for our fathers to give heed to this compass, which would point unto them a straight course to the promised land. And now I say, is there not a type in this thing? For just as surely as this director did bring our fathers, by following its course, to the promised land, shall the words of Christ, if we follow their course, carry us beyond this vale of sorrow into a far better land of promise.”
I had thought of this “vale of sorrow” (a “vale” is a valley) as being the entirety of our mortal existence and the “far better land of promise” as the post mortal existence of the righteous with God. Since Ashton’s death, the words of Christ can and will and do carry me through this “vale of sorrow” into a “far better land of promise” – in the arms of God’s love and comfort. I sometimes feel God’s love and comfort in very direct and personal ways that are difficult to put into words. However, quite often, His love and comfort is manifest through the kind words, thoughts and deeds of those around us.
God bless you as you have mourned with us and comforted us!
We’ve Had Our Turn
Here is another guest post by my wife, Faye Richardson Mayberry:
After the shock of Ashton’s death wore off, I went into a selfish mode thinking that everyone needed to know about this terrible thing that happened to our family. Everyone needed to know how sad we were and be sad with us. Everyone needed to contact us to tell us how sorry they were. Everyone needed to come visit us. Everyone needed to send us a sympathy card. Everyone needed to give me a hug. Everyone needed to cry with us. Everyone needed to say or do something. And then… they did. So many people came to our home and cried with us. We received so many cards in the mail, so many hugs were given to me in church and at Walmart. So many of my friends texted me, messaged me on Facebook, and called on the phone. We received many gifts and books and sweet letters. Yes, all that happened, but something else happened, too, that humbled me. We started hearing about the tragedies that have happened to other people. So many have had a loved one who has also taken their own life. So many have had a child, spouse or parent pass away. So many have felt the sorrow and grief that we feel. So many are hurting. We are not alone. As this has all happened, I have been able to sit back and look at the big picture of one aspect of our life here on earth.
Every family has their turn.
Every family has their turn and we rally around that family when their turn comes. We bring them food. We write and send sympathy cards. We hug them and say sorry at church and at Walmart. We pray for them to be comforted. We give them flowers, gifts and books that might bring comfort.
Well… we have had our turn. Our turn to be blessed by others kind words and acts of service. We’ve had our turn to have flowers planted anonymously in our planters while we were at the funeral. Coming home to that melted my heart. We’ve had our turn to have food brought over – more than we could ever eat, but were able to share with those who came to visit. We´ve had our turn to have people visit us one right after the other like it was orchestrated that way. We’ve had our turn to receive 5 to 10 sympathy cards a day in the mail. We´ve had our turn to find flowers, cards, boxes of kleenex, paper products and food sitting on our doorstep when returning home. We’ve had our turn to have family members put together videos, scrapbooks and slide shows of Ashton that took so much time and effort. I did not have the brain power to do any of that. We’ve had our turn to receive so many, ¨How are you doing today?¨ or ” I’m thinking of you” texts and Facebook messages from family and friends. We’ve had our turn to have our front door “heart attacked” on Valentines Day. We’ve had our turn to receive two, three and four gifts or cards from the same person who wants to be sure we know they love us and are grieving right along with us. I can’t even begin to name everything that has been done for us.
We have had our turn to be on the receiving end of so much love we could never contain it all! WE FEEL LOVED and we need to feel that love so badly. Our Heavenly Father has told us that he will not leave us comfortless. This is living proof that he uses his earth angels to do His work here on the earth. How can I ever show my gratitude to my Heavenly Father for all that has been done for us and continues to be done? I will be first in line when another family gets their turn. I will.
It has been overwhelming to think about all that has been done for us. Overwhelming! But, then again, it was our turn. We’ve had our turn.
Note: I wrote this while we were away for a week. We had no cell service or internet. When we got back there were 3 messages on our answering machine from people who wanted to come visit us to see how we were doing or wanted to bring us something. We also came home to emails of comfort and hope. Our turn continues and the love keeps pouring in. We are so blessed.
We also came home to the news that our neighbor’s mother died. That family is having their turn. We are going to visit them and cry with them this morning.
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.