Please Stay

On July 11th, 2012 our daughter Amanda died by suicide. It's been two years, one month and twenty-nine days since I have heard her voice, seen her smile, watched her sleep, cuddled her on the couch, heard her say "I love you too", been wrapped tightly in one of her daily hugs, stared admiringly at her as she walked away confidently, received some random weird text video about wanting food, or enjoyed the sound of her laughter. 

Amanda's friends still refer to our home as "Amanda's house" when they tell people where they are. It will always be Amanda's house, Amanda's BMW, Amanda's family and dog. You know... I'm totally okay with that too. It warms my heart from within. It means they still feel her here in our home and hopefully it will always be a place of comfort and security for them.

Even though it's been over two years since her death, she never leaves my mind and my heart still aches for her. I'm able to pull myself together every day by focusing on the good memories. I like to look over at the passenger seat of my car where she would have been rushing to put on her make up before school, leaving foundation finger smudges on my rear view mirror. I imagine her so vividly that I can feel her warmth next to me and see her look over at me and smile. I rarely have a day when I'm driving to work and my mind doesn't drift back to memories of the day we lost her and the days that followed. I replay every moment in slow motion, as tears gently burn their trace across my skin.  Where I was when I got the call, who was in the room with me, the guilt over not answering my phone the first time Lauren called me because my meeting at work seemed more important, having to make those heart wrenching calls to the rest of our family to tell them to "Come home. Please come home". Having my boss walk me to her car to drive me home and pleading gently with God the whole way there. The overwhelming love and support from friends, family, and even strangers. Oh... And all of the flowers that were delivered that week. It's weird how something so beautiful can feel so suffocating.  I relive this almost every day. When I get to work, I dry my eyes, take a deep breath, say a prayer to tell her I love her, and move forward. 

I don't want to remember that day or the time that followed, but it's a part of my memory just as strong as the day I gave birth to her. I wonder what it would be like if she were still here. What job she would have, who her boyfriend would be, what fashion style she would be rocking, and whether I would have been wise enough to know I should cherish everything about her or would I just take for granted each moment I had been blessed to share with her. Sometimes I hear the shenanigans her friends get into and think "well... At least I don't have to go through that or worry about Amanda making poor choices" and then I'm filled with instant regret because I would be so happy to have just one more argument or one night of lecturing her for coming home late. At least, in the end, I would have her here with me. She might be mad or disappointed that she was in trouble, but she would be here.

I don't like speaking in past tense, but that is what I am left with without her here. I don't want to focus on her story ended because the life she lived is so much more than that one moment in time. I've learned to say the word suicide without blinking, flinching, or crying in front of people. It's strange how people use suicide phrases in their daily vocabulary to express feelings or to joke around. I guess I never used to hear it before, I probably used to say them myself more than I know, but now each word of those joking phrases jumps out and takes hold of my breath. Clutching my lungs tightly before slowly allowing me to breathe again.

It's sad and tragic that we must assign a specific month, week, or even one day devoted to suicide awareness and prevention. There has been increasing attention and focus on suicide prevention, especially after a beloved celebrity passed by their own hand. Yet, suicide still seems to be something that is whispered instead of talked about. I am not ashamed that my daughter left the world the way she did. I do not begrudge her for not speaking out and asking for help through a difficult time, even though with every ounce of my being I wish she had. That's the thing... people who are suicidal don't think logically. They are experiencing an internal pain which takes over their thought process and presents only one possible solution. I wish I could have stopped her from feeling sad or alone in that moment of despair. I wish my love would have been strong enough to keep her here. I've had people say it's hard to understand how Amanda could have made such a "selfish" decision, taking away her pain and transferring it to her family and friends. In a moment of despair, you don't always stop to imagine how the world would be darkened without your light or have the ability to picture your life getting better. Whether you are 16 and experiencing a break up with the love of your life or 60 and tired of feeling numb and hollow, the depth of emotional desperation is immeasurable. You truly believe that no one will understand your pain or that no one can make you feel whole again. 

This is where I need to you to listen though...  

Those voices in your head are WRONG. You WILL make it through. You are NOT going to feel this way forever. This world WOULD be dark and sad without you in it. YES... even perfect strangers will ache at the loss of you. There are so many people who would do anything to help you. To listen to your story and sing a song of hope to your soul. You matter. If you are thinking that suicide is your only way out. It isn't. You say you don't want to burden anyone with your pain, but the pain you would leave them to deal with would be 100 x's worse. Trust me. Stop thinking about the rope, the gun, the pills, the knife, and any other exit strategy you've been planning. Reach out to someone. Anyone. None of us were meant to journey through this world alone. Please keep living. Please... Please stay.

You are loved beyond measure. Live wisely and always choose the right. 

Please post a candle in your front window at 8:00pm on September 10th in honor of world suicide prevention day.

Lessons I Learned From My Dog Walnut

I said I would speak at church when needed… as long as I could pick my own topic. Mostly because I’ve always wanted an opportunity to share a story with you that taught me so many lessons, sometimes I feel like I still have “aha” moments where I realize I still have more to learn, even though it happened over 14 years ago.

Lessons I learned From Walnut

As I tell you this story, I want to see if you can find the following lessons:

·      Be Prepared

·      Follow the council of priesthood holders

·      Are you really prepared?

·      Prayer works

·      Don’t pass judgment

·      Goodbye is not forever

Be Prepared

Back when we lived in Arcadia, our family rented an old Spanish style house on a large fenced in lot on the corner of Huntington Drive and Golden West. Some of you know it as the house that the MTA bus crashed into, which is totally irrelevant, but an interesting fact that drew my husband to the house. This was our first house and even though our last apartment was quite large and we were allowed to own a cat, it was just a cat. My girls and I wanted a dog. Dogs are way cooler.

Having had plenty of lectures from my husband about being a responsible pet owner, I did my homework. I went on line and researched animal breeds that would be good with young children. Amanda was about 4 ½ and the older girls were 11 at the time. The girls and I poured over animal shelter sites and searched for the perfect dog to rescue. We spent at least a couple hours doing our research. I even went down the Pasadena Humane Society to check out the dogs ahead of time, just to make sure my heart was really in it.  They explained that part of the adoption process was to have the pet meet each of the family members. Which in my mind meant I wasn’t going to be able to just sneak whatever dog we wanted home and say “surprise!” so Rich couldn’t say no.

Follow the Council of Priesthood Holders

That afternoon, Rich came home early and we met him with excitement and begged him to go with us to get a dog. Only one problem… Rich didn’t think we were ready for a dog. So on came the lecture “As a priesthood holder (yes, he actually pulled the priesthood card), I feel compelled to tell you that we are not ready to adopt a dog.  The side fence is broken and could fall over any time; we need to buy food and a dog bed. Someone needs to walk and clean up after it.  I explained that we HAD prepared by researching breeds and humane societies.

He had us have a family prayer together, where again he used words like guidance, being prepared, responsibility, etc. At the end of it we opened our eyes and said… “Can we go get a dog now!”  He just shook his head because he knew we only heard what we wanted to hear, which in our minds was “we are getting a dog!”

Somehow we got him to go with us to the Humane Society to “Just take a look”.   I grew up with a boxer and that’s what I wanted. A dog with short hair because I somehow remembered they would shed less (WRONG).  We had the attendants bring back a couple dogs for us to meet that met my criteria, but in actuality were crazy hyper and all over the place. Then she brought back a dog she thought our girls would like. A big 105lb Anatolian Sheppard named Walnut who was covered in thick, long hair.

Rich sat in a corner completely irritated and uninterested. The dog went and lay behind him, trying to hide farther back. Then the attendant told us his story. Walnut was given to a little girl named Haley for Christmas. She and her mom loved him for 3 years, until her mom passed away from cancer and Haley had to move in with her dad and her step mom. They told us how awful it was the day Haley had to say good bye to her dog and how cruel that step mom must be to not let her keep him. Now Walnut had not only lost the only two people in his world, but had been taken to a shelter where they were running out of time on how long they could keep him. He was acting very depressed and never showed any interest in people that came to check him out, until our girls came up to his cage. She said that they probably reminded him of Haley. That is when I noticed that Rich’s hand had left his lap and was calmly petting the sweet, scared dog behind him. That’s when he looked at me and said, “We are taking this dog”.

Our happy family left the humane society plus one dog that night and took him directly to the groomer for a bath. That’s where we learned that he was a complete chicken and had to be carried, all 105 lbs of him, into the groomers or doctors office.

Are You Really Prepared?

When we got him home, Rich took off Walnut’s collar to make it a little larger. We decided that while he did this, we would take our new dog outside so he could get to know his new yard. That’s when he walked over to the side of the yard, pushed on the fence that was broken, which fell over and scared him so bad he took off running – right down Huntington Drive during 5:30 pm traffic. I chased after him as the girls went to get their dad.  The last I saw of him, he was about 2 blocks ahead of me and disappeared into some bushes. We checked those bushes over and over again, to no avail. That’s when we broke up into two cars and started our 2-hour search.  Lauren and I searched while Amanda was in the backseat making commentaries like “Well… we HAD a dog.” And “Dad said we weren’t ready for a dog, I guess this is what he meant.”

Prayer Works

Finally, in desperation I pulled over in front of the bushes where I had last seen him. It was getting really dark and our chances of finding him were growing slim. So I did the only thing I knew how to do. I said, “Let’s pray”. That’s when I said “Look Lord, I know we suck as dog owners, and maybe we weren’t as prepared as I thought we were, but if you help us find this sweet lost dog, I promise you we will be good to him and treat him like part of our family.” I opened my eyes and found Lauren just staring at me… “That’s the prayer that’s going to get our dog back?” she questioned me.  “just go look in the bushes again”, I told her.  She walked over to the building and just as she was walking up to the bushes, the garden lights came on and were shining brightly on a terrified dog. Lauren excitedly came running back to the car, exclaiming, “Your prayer worked! He’s in the bushes!” And I yelled back… “and you just left him there! Go get him!” We took him home and the next day Rich fixed the fence.

Don’t Pass Judgment

Two weeks later the girls and I were proudly walking our new dog. When we got to the park, a car pulled up beside us with a little girl and what looked like her mother. The little girl rolled her window down and said, “Did you adopt that dog? Is his name Walnut?” I looked at her and said “We did. Are you Haley?” She told us about how she used to put dresses and high heels on him and how much she loved him, but when her mom died and she moved in with her dad, the apartment was too small for him and there wasn’t a yard for him to play in so he just seemed so unhappy. Her step mom said it was the hardest thing they had to do, but they knew giving him up would be best for him. 

Immediately, I felt this bitterness in my heart that I held towards a woman I had never met, dissolve and a gentle reminder from the Lord that it wasn’t my role to judge in the first place. We are to love unconditionally, just like a dog who gratefully wags his tail with forgiveness, joy, and enthusiasm... even after being left home alone all day. We swapped information with them and told them they could see him anytime.

Years later, in 2006, we took Walnut to the vet because he was having problems with his hip. When they did an xray to see if he was healthy enough for surgery, they found a large mass in his lungs.  We made a decision to take him home and love him until he showed us he was ready to go. When that day came, we called a vet out to our house. Walnut was in a lot of pain and just keep crying and throwing his head on the ground so the vet gave him something to calm him so the girls and our dog Spike could come out and say good bye. As he lay on his favorite rug, next to the door way between our living and dining room, we said a family prayer and told him what an amazing member of the family he had been. How he taught us how to love unconditionally and brought so much joy into our lives. Then we released him from this world and his pain. It was the most heartbreaking, yet beautiful experience in my life.

Six years later, our family came together in prayer in the exact same spot where we said good bye to Walnut, to say goodbye and release our daughter Amanda from this mortal world. She also gave so much, but left much too soon.  Though our hearts ached to say good bye, there was also a sweet realization that goodbye is not final. Walnut left early so he could be there to welcome Amanda home again. They ARE together again.

I testify to you that if we prepare ourselves appropriately, not just by reading scriptures occasionally, but by living a life that proves we are prepared for the Savior to come again, and if we not just seek, but follow the council of our priesthood holders, turning to The Lord in earnest prayer that is free from judgment and pride, that our goodbyes will not be forever.

The Slow Dance of Grief

My sweet friend, who recently lost her husband after a long battle with a terminal illness, sent me a text. In it she asked "Does the pain ever go away?"  Having lived with my own grief for almost two years now, I answered her as I wish someone would had me. I said...

Honestly... The pain of losing someone never goes away. You just learn how to manage it. It's like an uninvited guest who sits quietly... waiting for you to acknowledge its presence. In the beginning it climbs all over you like a cranky two year old who can't be satisfied... no matter how much you coddle it, or pray for it to be still and let you rest. 

Each breath you take will leave you aching for more... Like you never have enough air to fill you up. You become numb and wonder what matters and what doesn't. You struggle to feel anything, even though you also feel everything so intensely. Your life will be split into time frames of remembrance. Your life when you felt complete and everything was good... Even when it wasn't. The day you lost your love. And the day after when you stepped into your new life of having to live physically apart. 

Then one day you realize in a strange moment that it hasn't begged you to hold it or cry with it for a few hours and you feel a little guilty because you actually feel relieved to not have to entertain it. Sometimes you feel obligated to dance a slow painful and unfamiliar dance with this unwanted partner. He pushes you backwards as you step on his toes. Over time, you learn the dance. Eventually you gain quiet strength and you tell your guest... "It's time for me to take the lead. I will dance with you and I will hold you close to my heart, but I will set the pace and melody."

Slowly... You start to heal. You can say their name without people flinching in sadness. You find yourself loving more deeply and forgiving more freely. Your memories become a beautiful song that plays gently in the background of your life, like the soundtrack of your heart. Sometimes, like during holidays and special anniversary dates, the music will blast in your head until you learn that it's okay to turn it down again. It never really stops playing. You never stop hearing it, but it softens and becomes your partner. The pain... Just like the music or the unwanted guest is truly always there. You just learn to lead it in your own dance. Somehow... All that emptiness is slowly filled with hope for the future and the knowledge that you will be together again. 

Graduation Day

To Amanda's senior friends -

This message is to all of Amanda's friends who are finishing up their last day(s) of high school and who have already, or who are now preparing to walk across that graduation stage. We are so proud of you. We know that your high school journey was filled with many ups and downs. You experienced friends who brought new life into this world and the loss of friends dear to you. You've gone through trials that pushed you to grow into young adults faster than expected. Some of you have stumbled along the way and some of you shared your strength to help those who had fallen to stand back up again. If you are one who has stumbled, I hope you don't beat yourself up over it. We've all been there a time or two. As Amanda once said "live and let learn . Brush it off. There would be no learning if everyone didn't step off their path for a while."

Many of you have expressed how wrong it feels to graduate without Amanda walking beside you. While we feel that too, I also believe she will be walking that stage THROUGH you. Because each and every accomplishment and struggle, she has been there to whisper guidance and encourage you to choose the right.

I was a little bummed that the MHS principal wouldn't consider having an extra seat left open for your two missing classmates or let Amanda's dog, Spike, walk on her behalf because he didn't want to glorify the actions that caused their death. I was bummed, but I understand. Sometimes adults think they know what's best for you "kids". He is just looking out for you.

What I realize now is that you are aren't kids anymore. You are now young adults and you don't need an empty seat to acknowledge the loss you have felt and how you wish your friends could be there with you. They will be.

Mrs. Baham was kind enough to get our family tickets to the graduation and it will be our honor to be there in the stands to celebrate your journey.

Just because you are graduating, don't think you need to have your life figured out. You have plenty of years left to be an adult. Take time to explore your options and become the person that brings you the most joy in your life.

Please know we will always be here for you. To give a warm hug, listen, make you tacos, whatever you need (except college homework help - I'm done with homework!)

Live wisely and always choose the right.

Sincerely - The Andrews