On Saturday I pulled into the drive way of my old house, rang the door bell, and could hear Nylan running down the hall. He peered out the window, his face lit up, he gave me a little wave, and opened the door. “Hi Nans” I said, he quickly threw his arms around me and hugged me as tightly as his little arms could. “I got up early Nannie, I’ve been waiting for you to come today.” I’ve been waiting too I said. I patted Mystra’s head, that old girl is still going strong, Freckles was scared at first, one sniff of my hand sent her clinging to my side. Nylan patted Freckles head and said “Freckles its just Nannie, it’s ok.”
Nylan quickly got dressed. I exchanged a few words with the ex husband and soon Nylan and I were off. Off to a day of adventure. Destination number one was Crystal Cave. When I was married I always wanted to take Nylan to the cave, yet I never did. Time slipped away from me, work got in the way, and Crystal Cave fell to the bottom of my to-dos. Saturday it was a priority. On the drive there Nylan was telling me all about school, his friends, the dogs, renters in his basement, and that he had surgery. Man, he talked a mile a minute. As we drove along 94 he read most of the billboards and freeway signs. As we turned on to the country road leading to the cave I realized that Nylan is no longer the chubby cheeked boy I fell in love with, he is now a smart courageous 8-year-old boy.
As we pulled into the parking lot Nylan whispered, “I’m scared. There might be bats in there and it might be dark down there.” In an attempt to quench his fears I told Nylan that they have lights in the cave and that the bats don’t come around the people. Those words calmed him down and he was ready to take on the cave. Nylan was scared at first and uncertain of the cave. A few random bats flew above our heads as we walked around. Our guide led us through the tunnels and pointed out formations in the rocks. Half way through Nylan was no longer clinging to my side, he was up front walking with the guide. Nylan’s thirst for adventure is still there and he was loving the cave. The final stop on the cave tour is the wish room. In this room the rocks are sticky and you can place a penny on the wall. Its kind of like a wishing well of sorts. Nylan walked around the room looking for the perfect spot.
As I was standing in this room, looking up at the walls covered in thousands of pennies it hit me. It hit me that 22 years ago I was standing in the exact same room looking for the perfect spot to stick my penny. Nylan’s penny would be joining my penny and the thousands of other wishes. I have no idea what I wished for that day nor do I remember where the heck I stuck my penny. Taking Nylan to the cave brought back so many memories for me and I am glad that he loved the cave as much as I did when I was his age.
Saturday reminded me that love knows no bounds and that one simple smile can erase the heart ache. That two years was more like two minutes and that no matter the length of time, nothing can destroy the bond I have with Nylan. Nylan will always be one of my greatest joys and my first child from another mother. It taught me that we all have choices in this world. I could have chosen the clean slate and walked away from motherhood. My divorce was my do over, it wiped my slate clean, and made me a singleton again. Yet I wasn’t willing to throw five years of raising Nylan away. Instead I took my do over card, held on to my step mother title, and on one Saturday a month I will be out on the town with Nylan.
They say a lady knows when she is ready to move on. She knows when to let go of the past and walk into her future with an open heart. She knows how to love like she is dying because the one who had her heart died loving her.
Our lives are nothing but moments. Most of the moments are trivial, however there are the ones that impact our lives so greatly we are forever changed. When that impact hits us we will never walk the same course again. We can dream about what was, we can long for it, but at the end of the day what was will never ever be again. I have come to realize this over the past 7 months, that my life will never be the same.
Over the past three years I have encountered several moments of impact, my blood clot tought me how to survive, the death of my child and the end of my marriage made me into the woman I am today. Those moments were filled with trial and tears, yet those are the moments that changed the course of my life. They charted the course for my life to collide with Charlie.
Collide is what we did. Charlie renewed my faith, taught me that love was more than just a word, and that life was a dream worth fighting for. I have enough memories to keep me company for a lifetime. While I am remembering Charlie, a young man in New York will alway be haunted by the moment he chose to get behind the wheel while drunk. His moment of impact changed the course of his life and that of five families forever.
Because of this man I am not able to say I do, instead I got to say goodbye. That day my dream ended. That day a part of my heart broke and I am afraid it will never be repaired. Justice tells us that he must pay for his crime. Is there really a punishment big enough for someone who took a life, who carelessly turned the key and drove down a freeway drunk. No there is not, if you ask me no there is not. Because for the rest of my life I have to live knowing that he is alive living his life, while my fiance is six feet under. That one day this man may get married and have children of his own, his life will go on once the prison door is opened, it will go on.
Charlie’s life ended that day. He dreamed of having a baby girl named Charlotte Rae, that dream died the moment his heart gave out. One decision, one moment of impact ended all of his dreams. He dream of being the first Native American to sit on the Supreme Court, he dreamed of a better day for his people. He dreamed of a better day for farmers and small business owners. He dreamed so big that those he left behind are stepping up and ensuring that his people will see a better day. That some day a Native American will sit on the bench, and see that large ag businesses will toppel and give way to the family farm.
That man sitting in a prison cell may have taken Charlie’s life, however he will not kill his dreams. Because Charlie’s dreams were bigger than the life he lead. Mostly because that young man will never know a man like Charlie, he will never love like he did, care like he did, or give like he did. Because Charlie was one hell of a man and I thank God every day that I collided into his life for a little while. I can live the rest of my life knowing that one man loved me until his last breath, his last moment of impact.
Lately I have spent a lot of time alone and dared to let my mind wonder why. Tears fall silently into the Muppet’s fur and then there are moments where I burst out in laughter for no reason. Life isn’t suppose to be this way. We are supposed to fall in love, have babies, and grow old together. For the first time in years I let myself feel and believed in something called love. I held out hope that it would turn out all right and trusted the fact that he would never be like my ex husband.
Charlie knew I was broken and that he was taking on more scars than one soul could handle. Yet he would shoot me a smirk and take my hand during the moments of doubt. He called me late at night to tell me “Hey beautiful, just wanted to remind you that you are amazing. Don’t forget that.” Sometimes he would tell my voicemail a story or just talk about his day. Knowing full well that the voice mail symbol would bring a smile to me in the morning. He had faith in me and allowed me to just be. Charlie didn’t try to heal my scars, or swaddle my fears, he just simply let me be. Why others tried to give me answers, he gave me hope. Hope replaced my fears and allowed me to dream again. Dream of a place where love lived.
Late nights were spent with board games and conversation. Charlie never asked me about my failed marriage, my stroke, or my son. He told me once “I don’t need to pry. I have faith that when you’re ready you will tell me everything.” Those moments came and the man was left in awe. Bit by bit I revealed myself to him and under the brightness of the sun my secrets became exposed. I stood there before him with nothing more than my soul, vulnerable, and afraid. He just threw his arms around me and said “Babe all we need is a little hope and we’ll be all right.”
Charlie was full of hope. Hope for our future and that our lives would be more than perfect. It’s funny how one persons inability to move their car from the freeway brought that hope crashing down. Charlie’s death will remain fresh as I shake my head and wonder “Why?” I can live with the fact that it was an accident. However I can’t live with the notion that it was preventable. Had they taken the extra steps no one would have had to die that day. Charlie didn’t die alone, that one accident claimed the lives of five people. Five beautiful people that mattered to someone out there. I hold out a tiny shred of hope that the Judge will make those two idiots pay for their mistake. Rest assured I will be sitting in the courtroom on the day the sentence is handed down.
Hope is what gets me through the hard moments and allows me to dream. Charlie would want me to have a little hope and to believe in a better day. A day where the pain fades and all of this will make sense. I didn’t get to grow old with him, yet I got to spend 16 of the greatest months of my life with him. In the end that’s all that matters. That for 16 incredible months our friendship grew into love, and that love allowed us to have a little hope for a beautiful future.
It’s funny how time soothes our souls and slowly heals our wounds. I all most didn’t realize what today marked. A day that I would never forget. It was a day that women long for. I remember standing in my bathroom watching the hour-glass spin on the EPT. Part of me had hope and part of me was preparing for a “not pregnant” to pop up. It seemed like hours had passed, I didn’t want to look. To my surprise the test screen said “pregnant.” The test dropped to the floor, shaking I smiled slightly, and thought “finally my calm has come.” I showed the test to Scott, he was over joyed, his eyes filled with tears. Tears because we had just conquered the impossible. In that moment we were happy, the cheating and the lies they didn’t matter. Because now two had truly become one.
Calls were made to the doctor, since I got pregnant just months after my P.E. I was considered high risk. The doctor told us it was a long shot, and that time would tell if the warfarin sodium had done any damage to the baby. We had a 50/50 chance of bringing a baby into this world. To me those were good odds so I started the twice a day Lovenox injections and a crazy low vitamin K diet. I started showing right away, there was no hiding the fact that I was with child. My baby belly to me was a symbol of survival and my way of saying Fuck you nuva ring, I made it. Morning sickness never came, sleep was something I couldn’t get enough of, and cravings were plentiful.
The doctors said our child had a strong heart beat and that he was a fighter. The first time I saw him I fell in love, that was my child on the screen, and there was no greater gift. They talked about the odds of a blood clot forming, they told me the baby could be born Lovenox dependant, and that I could bleed to death during child-birth. Bleeding to death is not how I wanted to go, so a C-section was planned, and it was decided that our son would be born early. Being born early would be best for both baby and mommy.
While I was busy planning and dreaming of what was to come, my body was brewing up a different plan. It was the Tuesday after Mothers Day, I sat in the waiting room and looked around at all of the swollen bellies. My name was called and into the ultra sound room we went. The tech fumbled with the wand, minutes went by, and she just kept clicking on the key board. She sat their in silence adjusting the colors on the screen, soon she got up and walked out. That’s odd I thought, she came back with one of the doctors. He stared at the screen with her looking as the colors changed. He coldly said “there is no heart beat.” At first I couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. He explained to me that my son had died, that my baby was dead. He told me, “I’m so sorry for your loss. it’s probably for the best.” He asked if I wanted to talk about the options. I said no and stormed out of there.
Stormed off to the Prius as I put the key into the ignition the tears began to fall. I placed my hand on my belly and dared to ask why. I could barely dial the phone, when my Mom answered all I could muster was "Aloucious died." My Mom, she was trying to hold back her tears, she said "I'll call your Dad. I went home to an empty house, Scott was in Vegas, I tried calling him but he didn't answer. I barried myself in bed, I didn't want to face the world. I wasn't ready to lose my child. The door bell rang and standing at the door was my Father.
All I could do was cry as he wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. He said to me "I don't know why this happened. We just have to have faith." I stood there in his arms crying, my whole world shattered around me. He told me to get dressed and took me out for breakfast. I could barely eat and didn't want to face the world. The rain fell softly as we walked to the car I asked "Dad can we bury Aloucious under a birch tree?" Of course he said, yes we can, why don't we go look for one now. We strolled through the nursery lot for a few hours looking for the perfect tree to place my son under, a tree that would have deep roots and strong branches. We didn't find the perfect tree and now cold from the rain I just wanted to go home.
Home is where I was when Scott finally called. I had asked him to come home, to be with me. He told me "no." I was crushed the man I needed most had failed me and left me standing alone. Alone to make decisions about our son. After talking to a nurse about my options it was evident that I would not go into labor on my own. I needed surgery. Sherri she had left work early and sat by me in the waiting room. As I went back to surgery I gave her my wedding rings to hold on to, she had tears in her eyes as she said "see you in a bit." The nurses told her the procedure would take about 40 minutes. 40 minutes melted into an hour and that hour melted into two. Soon she was told that I was out and in recovery. My ordeal, my son was no longer a part of me. I was now a mother to a baby in heaven.
I was angry, sad, and frustrated. I went through the phase where I thought my son's death was my fault and often thought maybe I wasn't good enough to be a mom. That maybe this was God's way of showing me that he didn't have faith in me. I was angry and scared. No one I knew had gone through this before. Babies just don't up and die. There had to be a reason and we would have to wait two long months for the results.
As I waited the anger started to fade, grief slipped into every day life, and I slowly started to feel a live. One thing was certain something had to change. I needed to re-evaluate my marriage and the man I called my husband. It was hard for me to fathom that Scott didn't care enough about me to get on a plane. Vegas and Ultimate Electronics were more important than his grieving wife. This was my moment to reclaim myself and to fight for what I wanted in this world.
An that I did, in June I walked away. I was done and I had nothing left to give. Two months slowly passed and the answers I had been waiting for were ready. Just like before I walked into the doctor's office alone. The nurse asked if Scott would be coming. I told her no, I left him about two weeks ago. We are getting a divorce. Oh, she said. "Well some marriages can't survive the death of a child hun." I just looked at her and said "my son gave me the strength to walk away from a man who cheated on and lied to me. He had nothing to do with my leaving or our demise." She just looked at me. The doctor came in and told me "AJ, I wish I had more to tell you. Your son was chromosomally perfect and well, we have no idea why he died. His little heart just stopped. It happens hun." That's all I needed to hear. My son was perfect. My beautiful boy was perfect and I was proud of that.
Time heals the heart. At first I didn't want anything to do with babies. Swollen tummies made me retreat and I cried behind closed doors. Friends walked on egg shells as they announced their pregnancies and shot me half smiles. Half smiles turned into hugs. Babies are a beautiful part of this world and I have faith that one day I will get to say hello instead of goodbye to my child. Goodbyes are hard, yet it gave me more strength than I could ever imagine. Maybe I am lucky because now I have a little me in heaven. A son that is always with me. I can feel him in the breeze. Sometimes I let my mind wander and wonder what he would be like today. Would he have my curly hair, his dad's eyes, and I just hope he'd have my intelligence.
Shortly after Aloucious death I got a tattoo on my right foot. Because of the blog we nicknamed him little bear. So it was only fitting that I get a tattoo of four small bear paws. Two paws are red and black those were Scott's favorite colors. The other two are pink and orange which are my favorite colors. The tattoo artist thought it was a lovely tribute and as I told him my story his eyes filled with tears. He told me that he was glad to be in the presence of one hell of a fighter. I smiled and winced a little as the needles pushed into my skin. Now when I look down I am reminded that Aloucious is always with me and that I made it though hell. Hell because in 10 short months I survived a stroke/P.E. child loss, and had the strength to walk away from a man who would never love me. Strength that I gained when I carried my child and walked through his death alone.
May 12th will be the second anniversary of my son's death. Someone told me once: "You never get over the death of a child. You, you just learn how to live with it." That person was right. I will never be ok with Aloucious being gone. However I have learned to live with it. Maybe it's because I am getting older and a tad bit wiser that I can be at peace with his death. Indian people believe in cherishing the life and honoring the spirit that lived within. A birch tree was planted in Aloucious honor and one day Sophia will be old enough to play under its branches. She will feel the warmth of her cousin surround her and his story will seep into her heart. I just hope that this birch tree will be the only one I plant in the memory of a child. My heart can only handle one birch tree. Maybe one day I will get to sit under that birch with Aloucious' brother or sister in my arms.
Last Friday night I looked down at my floor and thought “My God this carpet looks gross and needs to be vacuumed sooner than later.” My vacuum has been failing me for a while and I knew something had to be done to fix the thing. I am incredibly smart but extremely unhandy. AmandaJean and Stanley tools do not go together. Well that was the case until Charlie showed up on my door step with a set of pink tools.
The pink tools sat unopened in my hall closet, just waiting for me to have a moment of I can do this. At first I couldn’t find my tools and ripped the closet apart looking for them. Then I looked up there they were far above my head pushed to the back of the top shelf. Reaching on my tippy toes I managed to pull them down along with a few other things that fell on my head. I was determined to fix my damn vacuum. The muppet had a “What the fuck is mom doing” look on his face and quietly sat under the coffee table.
Armed with my screw driver and a swift bout of determination I took on operation fix the damn vacuum. I did the obvious first and emptied the bin thingy. That didn’t help so then my next step was to check the hepa filter and still no suction. Any normal person would have checked the brush head. I am not normal after a few minutes of swearing I did just that. Holy crap there was my problem. The brush head was covered with string fur, and what ever else I managed to pick up with it. Wrestling with the brush head and cutting it loose from its prison still did not help with the suction. Tears began to fall and I was starting to give up.
Give up to the point where I wanted to throw the thing out and run to Target to get a shiny new vacuum. Giving up is never an option for me so I took a few deep breaths and felt the hose. The hose was hard and I had a feeling that this isn’t normal. Through my tears I began to take the hose off the vacuum as I was doing this clumps of dust fell to the floor. Soon I had it completely detached from the vacuum and it took me about 40 more minutes to remove the rest of the crap from the hose. I put the hose up to my eye much like a telescope I could see clear to the muppet. To me this was good and I set into the task of putting my vacuum back together.
The sound I heard was the sweet noise of suction as I ran the vacuum across the living room floor. My floor looked less dingy and my God I was finally able to vacuum up the fake needles from my christmas tree. Who knew fake trees could shed so much. I cracked a smile and that smile led to absurd laughter. I thought to my self ” I AmandaJean, just fixed my fucking vacuum all by myself.” I actually did something handy and almost feel brave enough to tackle a hammer. Well maybe not so much, baby steps. I need to pace myself on this fix it adventure.
Fixing a vacuum may not seem that big to you. However to me it is huge. I am normally a girl who runs to someone for fix it help. Or I throw the item out and head to Target for a shiny new one. Here I was covered in dust from head to toe vacuuming my floor. To me my vacuum is no longer just a vacuum, it is a symbol that I am capable of doing things on my own. That as long as I take a deep breath, pause and believe in myself I can do anything.
As I was standing in this room, looking up at the walls covered in thousands of pennies it hit me. It hit me that 22 years ago I was standing in the exact same room looking for the perfect spot to stick my penny. Nylan’s penny would be joining my penny and the thousands of other wishes. I have no idea what I wished for that day nor do I remember where the heck I stuck my penny. Taking Nylan to the cave brought back so many memories for me and I am glad that he loved the cave as much as I did when I was his age. 
Have Bear Will Travel 