Hi Babe:
I finished your story the best I could without your help. I heard if one happens to see little lightning bolts in their peripheral vision it's a spirit trying to communicate with them. After I finished your story, I walked out of my bedroom, down the hallway and to the outside of my left eye, I saw lightning bolts one right after the other. I know it was you, Honey. I could feel your energy.
When your dad died, I struggled so hard with not having the ability to feel him near me. You would tell me over and over "He's there, Mom. You just have to open yourself up." and I would tell you that I was truly trying. I knew that you were letting me know that you are with me. Did you hear me say "I see you, Honey. I love you so much and I miss you."
I hope, my darling boy, that your story will help just one person from getting into drugs or help them come off them. I don't know what else I can do, so I need your guidance to help me know what steps I should take from here.
I don't know what it is like where you are at. I don't know what it is you are suppose to be doing in the realm you know share with your Dad. I don't know what powers you possess. But if you do have power you can use on helping anyone here, I would ask that first of all you help your sons. Stay close to them and whisper to them to make right choices. Second Honey, you know your friends that are suffering from the same demons you had. If you can, go to them and encourage them to change the path they are walking. Encourage them to have the strength to do what you were unable to accomplish. If I can do something to help, somehow let me know what that something is.
You remember the lyrics I wrote for you "Dance with the Devil." Tyler York composed the music for it and Honey, it turned out so beautiful. He will have the professional demo done around March 3rd and we will get it on YouTube. I know you will love it when you hear it.
I'm heading to Alaska on Thursday. I'm going up to help Vince and Christian with all the legalities that came from your passing. They are such wonderful boys. I was telling Vince the other night what my plans were to keep from being a burden on my family and he said "Don't worry about it Grandma. I will take care of you." I told him how much his saying that meant to me, but its my responsibility to take care of me until I can't possibly do it any longer.
Life is not the same without you honey, nor will it ever be again. You left a void that cannot be filled by time or reason. I have wondered if a spirit can be terminally broken from being torn apart from grief. I feel when your dad left, he took a part of my spirit and when you left, you took another. I can actually feel an emptiness inside me. With your dad, I felt lost and with you I feel hollow. The thing that comforts me is closing my eyes and picturing you where you are at. I picture you walking along with your dad, or having a cup of coffee with him. I picture your smile as you say hello to your Aunt Mary and give her a big hug. She loved you so much. She enjoyed going home and finding her sink filled with trout you had caught in the Provo River. I picture your greeting all of our family that has past before you and I see the joy in their faces in seeing you once again. I can see your dad standing there being so proud of you.
I'm glad you are at peace Sweetheart. I'm glad you don't wake up everyday with trying to battle your addictions. I bet you feel so free now, don't you.
Wherever you are at, or whatever you are doing just remember one thing. There's a lady here, sitting in the middle of her bed writing this letter that loves you dearly...always have and always will. I'm glad I got to be your Mom and share your life with you.
I love you my boy.
'Til I'm with you again.
Mom
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Friday, February 22, 2013
A Letter to Danny - February 22, 2013
Hi Honey:
I haven't written you for a while, because I have been writing our son's story. But you know that don't you.
While writing it, I was so over whelmed with love for you. Remember how you use to say "You can do a million things right and one thing wrong, and people will remember the one thing you did wrong." We both had a lot of our wrong things, Honey, but I want you to know that I remember the million when it comes to remembering you.
As I wrote Daren's story, I recalled what you did to save your son. I thought of the old movie "Walking Tall" and told myself once more that your children and I had our very own hero in you. That was just one part of the man I love. The part that would kick down doors and make threats of killing the SOB's if they ever harmed your son. We all knew you would protect each and everyone of us when push came to shove.
Then there was the part of your that was so forgiving. Honey, I don't remember a time when you were wronged that you didn't turn around and forgive. What an incredible trait to have.
Do you know honey, I never remember you being judgemental of our children. I hope they know that when they made mistakes and turned and walked away, you never spoke ill of them behind their backs. I remember one day I was feeling bad because one of our children had dropped out of school. Of course, I thought it reflected entirely on the type of mother I was not to have instilled a more stronger desire for an education. You took me in your arms and said "Gal, don't judge us on the rules society makes. I don't think society is doing a very good job. Our kids will do okay."
I stopped that day...I stopped comparing you, me, and our children by the standards others tried to impose on us. I decided we didn't need to follow the same route everyone else was taking in life. What did it matter if we took a detour or an exit and ended up seeing life differently. As long as we didn't hurt others, what harm did it do? The answer my Darling, is it did no harm at all. Oh, perhaps people looked down their noses at us. Perhaps they whispered behind our backs. Perhaps they felt the need to pray for us that we would be able to get back on "right" track. Looking back, I think the scenery of our route was much more colorful. Colorful would be a good word for our life together.
You balanced me out honey. When I was being pulled under by my emotions, you reached down and lifted me up with your reason. Now, when I find myself sinking, I think "What would Danny tell you to do?" I take a deep breath, think what you would tell me, and then I do one of two things: I do what you would have told me...or I do what I want. (You just smiled didn't you.)
You know Honey, You were never a hugger. (except to me.) A memory just brought a huge smile on my face. Actually, it made me laugh.
Remember when Jereme was leaving to go into the Navy before he and Haley were married. We had a family get together at our house before he left. He was just a little scrawny kid back then and when he got ready to leave, he walked up to you and gave you a big hug. You stood there as stiff as a board with the funniest look on your face. You didn't know what to do. (God forbid you just give the kid a big old bear hug.) I'm sorry Honey, but we still all laugh at that memory. Your discomfort was so comical.
The last time Mark saw you, he decided he was going to break that chain. He and Justen had come to Alaska and they were just getting ready to head back to Utah. Mark went up and put his arm around your shoulder, as you patted him on the back. Do you know what I have come to realize my love. You wanted their hugs as much as they wanted yours.
I have pictured in my mind the scene as you met Daren when he left this earth last month. My mind sees him step through the veil to find you waiting for him. I can see you as you walk towards each other, you reached out and shake his hand as you throw your other around his shoulders in a warm embrace.
"Glad to see you, Son." You say to him.
"Thanks, for being here for me, Pops. You got a cup of coffee?"
I love you Honey
Far Beyond the 12th of Never.
Susie
I haven't written you for a while, because I have been writing our son's story. But you know that don't you.
While writing it, I was so over whelmed with love for you. Remember how you use to say "You can do a million things right and one thing wrong, and people will remember the one thing you did wrong." We both had a lot of our wrong things, Honey, but I want you to know that I remember the million when it comes to remembering you.
As I wrote Daren's story, I recalled what you did to save your son. I thought of the old movie "Walking Tall" and told myself once more that your children and I had our very own hero in you. That was just one part of the man I love. The part that would kick down doors and make threats of killing the SOB's if they ever harmed your son. We all knew you would protect each and everyone of us when push came to shove.
Then there was the part of your that was so forgiving. Honey, I don't remember a time when you were wronged that you didn't turn around and forgive. What an incredible trait to have.
Do you know honey, I never remember you being judgemental of our children. I hope they know that when they made mistakes and turned and walked away, you never spoke ill of them behind their backs. I remember one day I was feeling bad because one of our children had dropped out of school. Of course, I thought it reflected entirely on the type of mother I was not to have instilled a more stronger desire for an education. You took me in your arms and said "Gal, don't judge us on the rules society makes. I don't think society is doing a very good job. Our kids will do okay."
I stopped that day...I stopped comparing you, me, and our children by the standards others tried to impose on us. I decided we didn't need to follow the same route everyone else was taking in life. What did it matter if we took a detour or an exit and ended up seeing life differently. As long as we didn't hurt others, what harm did it do? The answer my Darling, is it did no harm at all. Oh, perhaps people looked down their noses at us. Perhaps they whispered behind our backs. Perhaps they felt the need to pray for us that we would be able to get back on "right" track. Looking back, I think the scenery of our route was much more colorful. Colorful would be a good word for our life together.
You balanced me out honey. When I was being pulled under by my emotions, you reached down and lifted me up with your reason. Now, when I find myself sinking, I think "What would Danny tell you to do?" I take a deep breath, think what you would tell me, and then I do one of two things: I do what you would have told me...or I do what I want. (You just smiled didn't you.)
You know Honey, You were never a hugger. (except to me.) A memory just brought a huge smile on my face. Actually, it made me laugh.
Remember when Jereme was leaving to go into the Navy before he and Haley were married. We had a family get together at our house before he left. He was just a little scrawny kid back then and when he got ready to leave, he walked up to you and gave you a big hug. You stood there as stiff as a board with the funniest look on your face. You didn't know what to do. (God forbid you just give the kid a big old bear hug.) I'm sorry Honey, but we still all laugh at that memory. Your discomfort was so comical.
The last time Mark saw you, he decided he was going to break that chain. He and Justen had come to Alaska and they were just getting ready to head back to Utah. Mark went up and put his arm around your shoulder, as you patted him on the back. Do you know what I have come to realize my love. You wanted their hugs as much as they wanted yours.
I have pictured in my mind the scene as you met Daren when he left this earth last month. My mind sees him step through the veil to find you waiting for him. I can see you as you walk towards each other, you reached out and shake his hand as you throw your other around his shoulders in a warm embrace.
"Glad to see you, Son." You say to him.
"Thanks, for being here for me, Pops. You got a cup of coffee?"
I love you Honey
Far Beyond the 12th of Never.
Susie
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Daren's Story - Epilogue
I set curled up in the middle of my bed, my heart breaking like it did so many years ago when I found out my son was doing cocaine. Instead of a pink panther character, I hold the program from his funeral. I was asked how I can recall the details of his life so vividly when I don't have my journals with me to refer to. The answer is simple. I have relived over and over in my mind the events that filled my son's life. I have looked at them from both sides and all angles trying to find answers, reasons. I have filled my mind with "what ifs" and "if onlys" and find doing that is simply painful and useless.
Yes. My son Trent Daren Whiting was an addict. And NO, addiction is not what defines his whole life.
I remember vividly, the voice telling me twenty-eight years ago "Daren will be instrumental in the work of the Lord." How that will come to be, I don't know. I do know that there will be a time and place when that will be revealed to me. Until that time, I will simply marvel.
I marvel at the truth. My son was in a very bad place years ago, mixed up with very bad people. He owed dangerous men a lot of money. His life was in danger, no less than his father's was when he aimed his gun over the steering wheel and stared down the enemy. My son could have lost his life back then, when he was young, and my beautiful grandsons Vince and Christian would never have been. But he did not.
My son was so far into the drug scene that the fact he didn't do prison time is in itself remarkable. Was this happenstance? I don't think so. I feel with all my heart, there was a purpose for his life, and his life was as it was suppose to be.
Because my son lived, I have learned compassion. The word addiction doesn't conjure up in my mind the stereotype of an addict. Instead, I see someone's child, brother, sister, father, mother, aunt, uncle, friend. I see a person who is loved and worried about. I see a person that wakes up every morning and faces an unseen enemy. They walk onto the battlefield and fight themselves.
Because my son lived, I have learned kindness. Beneath the jokes and laughter and brashness, beat the heart of a true Christian. He didn't preach from a pulpit, He was just kind and unjudgemental in the living of his life.
Because my son lived, I have learned generosity. He would give his last dollar to the panhandler on the street. He would open his home to the homeless and give up his own bed.
Because my son lived, I am not afraid of the truth. I can stand and tell the world I am the mother of an addict. I can say my son made mistakes, serious mistakes. I can say I made mistakes in his life as his mother, that I didn't have all the answers (most of the time I didn't even know the right questions), I can shout to the world my family suffers the malady of mental illness and not be ashamed of it. I can admit that I failed, but not feel a failure.
Because my son lived, I learned unconditional love.
Because my son lived, I learned to laugh at myself. I learned to find humor in the most unexpected places.
Because my son lived, I learned loyalty and to know how and when and to whom to place that loyalty.
My son was an addict and because he lived, I will die a better person.
"Daren will be instrumental in the work of the Lord."
Perhaps those words meant he would be the instrument in making just one person a better person and maybe...just maybe... the voice I heard knew that person would be Daren's own mother.
Yes. My son Trent Daren Whiting was an addict. And NO, addiction is not what defines his whole life.
I remember vividly, the voice telling me twenty-eight years ago "Daren will be instrumental in the work of the Lord." How that will come to be, I don't know. I do know that there will be a time and place when that will be revealed to me. Until that time, I will simply marvel.
I marvel at the truth. My son was in a very bad place years ago, mixed up with very bad people. He owed dangerous men a lot of money. His life was in danger, no less than his father's was when he aimed his gun over the steering wheel and stared down the enemy. My son could have lost his life back then, when he was young, and my beautiful grandsons Vince and Christian would never have been. But he did not.
My son was so far into the drug scene that the fact he didn't do prison time is in itself remarkable. Was this happenstance? I don't think so. I feel with all my heart, there was a purpose for his life, and his life was as it was suppose to be.
Because my son lived, I have learned compassion. The word addiction doesn't conjure up in my mind the stereotype of an addict. Instead, I see someone's child, brother, sister, father, mother, aunt, uncle, friend. I see a person who is loved and worried about. I see a person that wakes up every morning and faces an unseen enemy. They walk onto the battlefield and fight themselves.
Because my son lived, I have learned kindness. Beneath the jokes and laughter and brashness, beat the heart of a true Christian. He didn't preach from a pulpit, He was just kind and unjudgemental in the living of his life.
Because my son lived, I have learned generosity. He would give his last dollar to the panhandler on the street. He would open his home to the homeless and give up his own bed.
Because my son lived, I am not afraid of the truth. I can stand and tell the world I am the mother of an addict. I can say my son made mistakes, serious mistakes. I can say I made mistakes in his life as his mother, that I didn't have all the answers (most of the time I didn't even know the right questions), I can shout to the world my family suffers the malady of mental illness and not be ashamed of it. I can admit that I failed, but not feel a failure.
Because my son lived, I learned unconditional love.
Because my son lived, I learned to laugh at myself. I learned to find humor in the most unexpected places.
Because my son lived, I learned loyalty and to know how and when and to whom to place that loyalty.
My son was an addict and because he lived, I will die a better person.
"Daren will be instrumental in the work of the Lord."
Perhaps those words meant he would be the instrument in making just one person a better person and maybe...just maybe... the voice I heard knew that person would be Daren's own mother.
Daren's Story - Chapter 16
The affect of what you were taking didn't make you act as bad as you did before, but it was enough to make me worry about where you were headed once again. Marijuana use is legal in Alaska and I thought perhaps that was what you were using, but I was only kidding myself.
Spring came to Alaska (meaning it was only twenty below) when we got word from the home-owners they would be back in March. We had to find another house before then.
There was a little cedar cabin just down the road that was empty. The people who had rented it before had left it in such a mess. Apparently, they had multiple dogs they had kenneled in the master bedroom. It smelled so bad. I contacted the owner and asked if we could clean it for the first months rent and deposit. She told us yes, so we tore out carpet, painted and scrubbed until it looked like it should look...like home.
How your dad loved living there. He felt bad with himself because he couldn't work so I encouraged him to keep up with his chain saw sculpturing. He had such a talent for it and he could carve when he felt like it and rest when he needed to. He decided he needed a carving shed so he could get in out of the weather, which was a very good idea except for one thing. We didn't have the money for him to buy materials to build a carving shed. But that didn't stop him. Everyday he would climb in his ton truck and drive down to the transfer sites (sites where everyone would bring their garbage.) He would come back with boards and tin, stove pipe and whatever else he thought he could use. To me it looked like junk but to him each piece was a diamond in the rough. He was so excited over each little thing he found. You would remark how you wished you could be like him...to find joy in such little things.
Board by board, nail by nail, screw by screw, he built; never losing his focus until he had created the cutest little carving shed. I found his faith incredible; faith enough to create miracles. He would say "I need a window for the front of my shed" and the next day, he would find the perfect window at the transfer site. It happened over and over again. I did resist his excitement though the day he brought home those ugly kitchen chairs; all eight of them. Remember how ugly they were honey. They were either Italian or french design in burgandy and gold. Oh my gosh, they weren't pretty. I had him take them back with the ruse that they didn't go well with our country themed little house.
Honey, you were so patient with us for so long. I know it wasn't easy having us there with you and your boys. I know your dad and I cramped all of your style. The only thing that I know made it worth it for you was my cooking. The fact that your dad couldn't hear well (Okay, I can hear you laughing at that one.) and would turn the television up full blast when you were trying to sleep because you worked graveyard didn't make for a very good mood in you. Or when he couldn't understand why you didn't appreciate his trying to fix the bedroom door after you had just got laid down. He was just pounding away when I looked over at you, saw the look on your face and just burst out laughing. "I think it's called Karma," I said to you as you climbed back out of bed and went in to help him.
Thank you honey for making his time in Alaska so good. Thank you for allowing him the time to rest, and carve and fish. Thank you for putting the fishing lures on his pole when his feet were too swollen for him to bend down. Thank you for netting his fish for him and helping him hold them up for pictures.
How I enjoyed our time in our little cedar home. The summers were beautiful and the winters were cold. The ice built up two inches on the inside of our front room door. You were taking your boys to school one morning and then were heading on in to work when your car quit on you. You called me to come and get you. I was only twenty minutes away, but by the time I got there, the ice had built up from your breathing all around the inside of your car.
When the following spring came, we decided we needed to leave the little house. It had a mold problem that we worried would affect your dad's health. Your dad and I pulled our trailer house down to Haley's and decided we would live the summer in it. You were going to look for a place right away, but Rainee and her family came up and we all wanted to take a trip to Valdez fishing, so you pitched a tent to the side of our trailer and you and the boys lived there for the summer.
You met a guy that said he would rent you his house for a penny a month, if you would fix it up. He had divorced and moved from Alaska and wasn't interested in moving back. Once again, we painted and cleaned and you replaced the carpet. The end of October, we moved in. You gave your dad and I the bed, and you slept on the couch.
I didn't want to force ourselves on you honey. You know it concerned me even though you assured me it was not a problem with you. I just felt your dad and I needed our own place. A place where his idiosyncracies wouldn't bother anyone.
I had to come to Utah in November of 2011 to attend a pre-litigation hearing regarding the drug store that filled the wrong medicine for your dad. You called me one day, upset. Your dad had said something to Christian and it upset you. You told me you would rather us not live together and have Christian love his grandpa than to live together and have your boys grow not to like him. Honey, it was nothing I wasn't expecting. I understood your feelings and I understood your dad's. I told you that as soon as I got back from Utah, I had already planned on finding us an apartment. The next day, I called your dad and told him my plans. He said "Well a lot of things can happen between now and then."
On November 11, your dad became very ill. You took him into Fairbanks to the doctor and called Shannon and Haley. They met you at the clinic. His liver ensymes were high and so was his potassium. They had you take him to the hospital emergency to get him hooked to an IV to get his potassium level down, and diuretics to get the swelling reduced in his feet.
Shannon and Haley laughed when the doctor asked him if he had any children. He said yes, he had two boys. He kind of forgot his five daughters.
Shannon asked the doctor if they should send for me. I was to be back there on the 14th but they would have me come back early if the doctor thought I should. The doctor said he thought your dad would be okay, to bring him back on Monday to get his blood work checked again.
On the 13th your dad woke, walked into the kitchen and said he was hungry.
"What would you like to eat, Pops," you asked him.
He told you some soup, so you fixed him some with crackers Your dad said he was going to lay back down for a while and then he wanted to get up and get the laundry room painted so it would be nice when I got back. You told him you would help him. You helped him back to bed, then he told you he was out of chewing tobacco. You told him you would run down to the convenience store at the end of our road and get him some. When you got back, he had died. You pulled him off the bed and tried to resusitate him, but to no avail.
We brought him back to Utah for his memorial service. We all gathered at Mark's house the night before to go over the plans. We all knew you were on something that night. You were staying at Rainee's mother-in-law's apartment, and for the next four days after the memorial service, you didn't leave it. I worried about your coming back to Utah and being around your old friends that had their own drug problems.
I think that winter after you left Utah, was the worst time of your life. The weather was the worst you had ever seen, and trying to keep your house warm so hard. You worked for the State of Alaska and although the benefits were good, the pay was not substantial. Once again, you were hit with emotional situations that you didn't know how to deal with, so you turned to drugs to numb them. You hadn't shown up for work for a couple of days, and you hadn't called in. Your boss called Haley to see where you were.
Honey, you just didn't understand. Your drugs put us all in such an awkward position. We couldn't lie for you. We couldn't make excuses for you anymore. We didn't know if we would find you alive or not. We decided we would separate ourselves from you and see if that separation would cause you to re-evaluate what you were doing. We all tried, but you know Sweetheart, we just couldn't follow through with it. It was something I felt deep in my sould that I couldn't isolate you. As frustrated as I got with you, as much as I hurt, when you were isolated, I felt sick inside.
"Honey," I told you. "You really need to get some counseling. You have so many things going on in your head. You need to find some help to sort it all out. That's got to be the first place to start in coming off the pills. You've got to start from the foundation, work out the problems and then work yourself up. Get some help, honey."
You told me you would.
When I found out you, Vince and Christian were spending Thanksgiving with your sisters, I was so relieved. How I loved having you call me to find out how to make my lemon jello. That was the dish you were taking for dinner. I walked you through it step by step, had you write the recipe down and explained everything in detail. (It's not rocket science.) The girls said it looked beautiful. They were trying to be kind by not telling me how it tasted. When I asked you how it turned out, you told me it wasn't bad if you liked lemon rubber bands.
You shared Christmas Eve with your Alaskan families. Shannon beat you in poker and you called her a bitch for it so I knew you were having a good time.
You and I had planned on writing a book about your struggle with your addiction. You wanted to go around to schools and lecture. You called me one day. "I came up with a title for our book," you said.
"What?" I asked.
"SHUT UP!! I'M TRYING TO HEAR MYSELF TALK." You said. "I'm talking about my own mind shutting the "f" up.
You had designed a special shovel that you wanted to get patented. You were going to come to Utah and get everything done on it. You had drawn a picture of it with the details written beside it, and on the top of the page you had written "I Will Follow Through With This."
Christian had his shoulder operated on, and you didn't want to leave him in Alaska by himself. Andie, Vince and Christians mother flew up to stay with them while you came to Utah. Andie would tell me that you said you wanted to check yourself into the Malibu Clinic. You wanted help. You had never before said you wanted to go to any kind of a clinic.
Vince called Rainee a few days before you were to come down and asked her if there was something she could do for you. You were going through some really bad times. Rainee put into plan to have you go on a cruise she and Shane were going on when you got down here. She was excited to have you go with them.
You called me on the 19th of January to tell me your plans. I told you Mark and Dawna were excited you were coming down and so was Rainee. I told you Sheree was coming down from Idaho the same day you flew into Salt Lake City and she wanted to be the one to pick you up at the airport. "I'm glad they didn't give up on me," you said.
On the 20th you called me again. "I love you, Mom." you said. "I miss you."
"I miss you too, Honey." I told you.
"No, Mom." You said. "I really, really miss you."
I could hear sadness and remorse in your voice.
"Just get down here," I told you. "We are all so happy you're coming. I just want you to promise me one thing. Promise me you won't go out with your friends and get high."
"I promise you, Mom." You said.
I ended my call by saying I loved you and you saying you loved me.
You called your brother and talked about the shovel, and your plans and just as he started to hang up, he heard you say "I love you, Bro."
"Love you too, Mark said."
My world crumbled around me at 5:00 a.m. January 21, 2013. I got a call from Vince saying "Grandma. My dad's gone." My little black haired baby, my little tow-headed boy, my handsome son had died of the drugs he had battled. They had won the war, but my boy was not dancing with the devil anymore.
Rainee said on the cruise they took and that Daren was to have gone on with them, there was this one port where the people were friendly, music was playing, and construction was going on. She told Shane that she thought had Daren been there, he wouldn't have got back on the boat.
As I was driving home that night, I heard Daren whisper to my heart. "I didn't want to get back on the boat, Mom." He had found his peace.
Spring came to Alaska (meaning it was only twenty below) when we got word from the home-owners they would be back in March. We had to find another house before then.
There was a little cedar cabin just down the road that was empty. The people who had rented it before had left it in such a mess. Apparently, they had multiple dogs they had kenneled in the master bedroom. It smelled so bad. I contacted the owner and asked if we could clean it for the first months rent and deposit. She told us yes, so we tore out carpet, painted and scrubbed until it looked like it should look...like home.
How your dad loved living there. He felt bad with himself because he couldn't work so I encouraged him to keep up with his chain saw sculpturing. He had such a talent for it and he could carve when he felt like it and rest when he needed to. He decided he needed a carving shed so he could get in out of the weather, which was a very good idea except for one thing. We didn't have the money for him to buy materials to build a carving shed. But that didn't stop him. Everyday he would climb in his ton truck and drive down to the transfer sites (sites where everyone would bring their garbage.) He would come back with boards and tin, stove pipe and whatever else he thought he could use. To me it looked like junk but to him each piece was a diamond in the rough. He was so excited over each little thing he found. You would remark how you wished you could be like him...to find joy in such little things.
Board by board, nail by nail, screw by screw, he built; never losing his focus until he had created the cutest little carving shed. I found his faith incredible; faith enough to create miracles. He would say "I need a window for the front of my shed" and the next day, he would find the perfect window at the transfer site. It happened over and over again. I did resist his excitement though the day he brought home those ugly kitchen chairs; all eight of them. Remember how ugly they were honey. They were either Italian or french design in burgandy and gold. Oh my gosh, they weren't pretty. I had him take them back with the ruse that they didn't go well with our country themed little house.
Honey, you were so patient with us for so long. I know it wasn't easy having us there with you and your boys. I know your dad and I cramped all of your style. The only thing that I know made it worth it for you was my cooking. The fact that your dad couldn't hear well (Okay, I can hear you laughing at that one.) and would turn the television up full blast when you were trying to sleep because you worked graveyard didn't make for a very good mood in you. Or when he couldn't understand why you didn't appreciate his trying to fix the bedroom door after you had just got laid down. He was just pounding away when I looked over at you, saw the look on your face and just burst out laughing. "I think it's called Karma," I said to you as you climbed back out of bed and went in to help him.
Thank you honey for making his time in Alaska so good. Thank you for allowing him the time to rest, and carve and fish. Thank you for putting the fishing lures on his pole when his feet were too swollen for him to bend down. Thank you for netting his fish for him and helping him hold them up for pictures.
How I enjoyed our time in our little cedar home. The summers were beautiful and the winters were cold. The ice built up two inches on the inside of our front room door. You were taking your boys to school one morning and then were heading on in to work when your car quit on you. You called me to come and get you. I was only twenty minutes away, but by the time I got there, the ice had built up from your breathing all around the inside of your car.
When the following spring came, we decided we needed to leave the little house. It had a mold problem that we worried would affect your dad's health. Your dad and I pulled our trailer house down to Haley's and decided we would live the summer in it. You were going to look for a place right away, but Rainee and her family came up and we all wanted to take a trip to Valdez fishing, so you pitched a tent to the side of our trailer and you and the boys lived there for the summer.
You met a guy that said he would rent you his house for a penny a month, if you would fix it up. He had divorced and moved from Alaska and wasn't interested in moving back. Once again, we painted and cleaned and you replaced the carpet. The end of October, we moved in. You gave your dad and I the bed, and you slept on the couch.
I didn't want to force ourselves on you honey. You know it concerned me even though you assured me it was not a problem with you. I just felt your dad and I needed our own place. A place where his idiosyncracies wouldn't bother anyone.
I had to come to Utah in November of 2011 to attend a pre-litigation hearing regarding the drug store that filled the wrong medicine for your dad. You called me one day, upset. Your dad had said something to Christian and it upset you. You told me you would rather us not live together and have Christian love his grandpa than to live together and have your boys grow not to like him. Honey, it was nothing I wasn't expecting. I understood your feelings and I understood your dad's. I told you that as soon as I got back from Utah, I had already planned on finding us an apartment. The next day, I called your dad and told him my plans. He said "Well a lot of things can happen between now and then."
On November 11, your dad became very ill. You took him into Fairbanks to the doctor and called Shannon and Haley. They met you at the clinic. His liver ensymes were high and so was his potassium. They had you take him to the hospital emergency to get him hooked to an IV to get his potassium level down, and diuretics to get the swelling reduced in his feet.
Shannon and Haley laughed when the doctor asked him if he had any children. He said yes, he had two boys. He kind of forgot his five daughters.
Shannon asked the doctor if they should send for me. I was to be back there on the 14th but they would have me come back early if the doctor thought I should. The doctor said he thought your dad would be okay, to bring him back on Monday to get his blood work checked again.
On the 13th your dad woke, walked into the kitchen and said he was hungry.
"What would you like to eat, Pops," you asked him.
He told you some soup, so you fixed him some with crackers Your dad said he was going to lay back down for a while and then he wanted to get up and get the laundry room painted so it would be nice when I got back. You told him you would help him. You helped him back to bed, then he told you he was out of chewing tobacco. You told him you would run down to the convenience store at the end of our road and get him some. When you got back, he had died. You pulled him off the bed and tried to resusitate him, but to no avail.
We brought him back to Utah for his memorial service. We all gathered at Mark's house the night before to go over the plans. We all knew you were on something that night. You were staying at Rainee's mother-in-law's apartment, and for the next four days after the memorial service, you didn't leave it. I worried about your coming back to Utah and being around your old friends that had their own drug problems.
I think that winter after you left Utah, was the worst time of your life. The weather was the worst you had ever seen, and trying to keep your house warm so hard. You worked for the State of Alaska and although the benefits were good, the pay was not substantial. Once again, you were hit with emotional situations that you didn't know how to deal with, so you turned to drugs to numb them. You hadn't shown up for work for a couple of days, and you hadn't called in. Your boss called Haley to see where you were.
Honey, you just didn't understand. Your drugs put us all in such an awkward position. We couldn't lie for you. We couldn't make excuses for you anymore. We didn't know if we would find you alive or not. We decided we would separate ourselves from you and see if that separation would cause you to re-evaluate what you were doing. We all tried, but you know Sweetheart, we just couldn't follow through with it. It was something I felt deep in my sould that I couldn't isolate you. As frustrated as I got with you, as much as I hurt, when you were isolated, I felt sick inside.
"Honey," I told you. "You really need to get some counseling. You have so many things going on in your head. You need to find some help to sort it all out. That's got to be the first place to start in coming off the pills. You've got to start from the foundation, work out the problems and then work yourself up. Get some help, honey."
You told me you would.
When I found out you, Vince and Christian were spending Thanksgiving with your sisters, I was so relieved. How I loved having you call me to find out how to make my lemon jello. That was the dish you were taking for dinner. I walked you through it step by step, had you write the recipe down and explained everything in detail. (It's not rocket science.) The girls said it looked beautiful. They were trying to be kind by not telling me how it tasted. When I asked you how it turned out, you told me it wasn't bad if you liked lemon rubber bands.
You shared Christmas Eve with your Alaskan families. Shannon beat you in poker and you called her a bitch for it so I knew you were having a good time.
You and I had planned on writing a book about your struggle with your addiction. You wanted to go around to schools and lecture. You called me one day. "I came up with a title for our book," you said.
"What?" I asked.
"SHUT UP!! I'M TRYING TO HEAR MYSELF TALK." You said. "I'm talking about my own mind shutting the "f" up.
You had designed a special shovel that you wanted to get patented. You were going to come to Utah and get everything done on it. You had drawn a picture of it with the details written beside it, and on the top of the page you had written "I Will Follow Through With This."
Christian had his shoulder operated on, and you didn't want to leave him in Alaska by himself. Andie, Vince and Christians mother flew up to stay with them while you came to Utah. Andie would tell me that you said you wanted to check yourself into the Malibu Clinic. You wanted help. You had never before said you wanted to go to any kind of a clinic.
Vince called Rainee a few days before you were to come down and asked her if there was something she could do for you. You were going through some really bad times. Rainee put into plan to have you go on a cruise she and Shane were going on when you got down here. She was excited to have you go with them.
You called me on the 19th of January to tell me your plans. I told you Mark and Dawna were excited you were coming down and so was Rainee. I told you Sheree was coming down from Idaho the same day you flew into Salt Lake City and she wanted to be the one to pick you up at the airport. "I'm glad they didn't give up on me," you said.
On the 20th you called me again. "I love you, Mom." you said. "I miss you."
"I miss you too, Honey." I told you.
"No, Mom." You said. "I really, really miss you."
I could hear sadness and remorse in your voice.
"Just get down here," I told you. "We are all so happy you're coming. I just want you to promise me one thing. Promise me you won't go out with your friends and get high."
"I promise you, Mom." You said.
I ended my call by saying I loved you and you saying you loved me.
You called your brother and talked about the shovel, and your plans and just as he started to hang up, he heard you say "I love you, Bro."
"Love you too, Mark said."
My world crumbled around me at 5:00 a.m. January 21, 2013. I got a call from Vince saying "Grandma. My dad's gone." My little black haired baby, my little tow-headed boy, my handsome son had died of the drugs he had battled. They had won the war, but my boy was not dancing with the devil anymore.
Rainee said on the cruise they took and that Daren was to have gone on with them, there was this one port where the people were friendly, music was playing, and construction was going on. She told Shane that she thought had Daren been there, he wouldn't have got back on the boat.
As I was driving home that night, I heard Daren whisper to my heart. "I didn't want to get back on the boat, Mom." He had found his peace.
Daren's Story - Chapter 15
The Naltrexon was working so when the two months were over, you went back to New Jersey again to get another implant. One of the guys that was working for us had the same addiction you had, so we told him if he wanted to go with you, we would pay to have his implant put in. In my heart of hearts, I really knew that the Naltrexone was only a bandaid. You weren't dealing with your addiction, you were just hiding it. But Honey, it was so wonderful to see you not on drugs. I kept hoping that not being on them would enable you to take a closer look at what you could do to manage them. But, the implants were short-lived along with your being clean.
There would be times when I would get a call from your little boys telling me you were sleeping but they couldn't get you into bed. They were only six and four years old. I would drive over to your home to find you in the stupor the drugs put you in. You would be standing up, hunched over, and stiff like. You would sway back and forth, jerk, wake a little and then fall back into your lethargy. Most of the time, you would have a cigarette in your hand, burnt clear to the filter. I would stay with my grandsons until I could get you to lie down on the couch. I would cover you up and then load the boys into my car and take them home to stay the night.
The thing is Honey, I knew you knew what you were doing to your boys, and I knew that knowledge you buried into your mind with all the other regrets you had. I knew it ate at you daily. You knew that Christian would stay home from school, because he was afraid if he left your side, you would die. You knew that your finances suffered, not because you didn't earn enough money, but because what you earned went towards your drugs. You knew you were not going anyplace in life; you weren't growing, achieving, accomplishing all that you knew you could. In fact my precious son, you didn't want to be who you were.
There's a saying among recovering addicts and alcoholics that when addiction starts, development stops. I saw this with you honey. Your emotional development stopped at the age that you started using drugs. You didn't know how to deal with life. If you were worried, instead of dealing with what worried you, you took drugs to hide it. If you were sad, instead of dealing with what was making you sad, you took drugs to hide it. It all became such a horrible vicious cycle.
How many friends did you watch die over the course of your life? I can think of six. Your friend "V" was such a cute guy. He was funny and charming and cute. I spoke at his funeral, and watched you and Mark place duck calls in is pocket as he laid in his casket. When "V" died from drugs, I thought "This has got to make him see what the drugs are doing. Surely this will wake him up and he will see where he is headed." But you buried it under your own addiction.
I've heard it said that each of us have one special person come into their lives; a soul mate so to say. You found yours in "K". She came into your life and she would never leave it again, if only in your heart.
She moved in with you along with her little boy. He and your sons became fast friends and I, looking for the magic answer to your problems, hoped she would be the answer. Surely, you would do anything for her; anything to keep her.
She became pregnant, and you were ecstatic. You were so certain it was a little girl. Once again I thought "A little girl. Surely, she will turn him around." But "she" didn't come to be. "K" miscarried, and you both were crushed.
Once again, there were three of you in your relationship; you, "K" and drugs. "K" made the correct choice that she needed to think of her little boy and what your relationship would do to him, so she left. For the rest of your life you would tell me there would never be anyone else for you. She was the love of your life. The damn drugs robbed you of her too. And of course, you didn't know how to deal with all your emotions, so you hid them with a bottle of pain pills.
The price of your addiction caused you to lose your home in Springville. You, Vince and Christian moved in with us in Payson. You see my darling son, tough love still wouldn't work when Vince and Christian were in the middle.
Your dad lost the contracts he had in utility construction, so he decided to shut the business down. We moved from our Payson house to a rental in Santaquin. Mark had started his own excavation business and was doing well. You started taking the construction classes so you could get your own license also. "Dirt" was in your blood you would say and you loved to play in it. My sober son had all the right ideas about life. He liked to work hard and would teach his sons the same. "Head down...ass up," you would teach your boys about shoveling, indicating the position they should keep in.
Honey, you didn't even know how truly intelligent you were. Yes, you struggled in school because of ADHD, but your mind was wonderful. How you loved the "History Channel" and would absorb and could recall everything you watched on it. You were so inventive. You were so quick witted. The things that came out of your mouth at an instant's notice would amaze me (and more often than not, shock me). You loved God and you loved the world He created. The mountains were your cathedral. The sun, God's gift. The natural man God created in you was so wonderful!
Your goal to get your contractor's license once again was replaced with pain pills. You had lost your job and was deeply depressed. Your dad and I had found a house in Mona, but we couldn't move into it until we could get a well dug and the waterline ran, so we were going to stay down at the house but live in our trailer house until it was ready to move into.
I had found needles in the bathroom and knew you were doing heroine. You didn't have a job, would soon not have a place to live, and still had two wonderful young boys who needed to be thought of. Sheree offered to take Vince and Christian to Idaho to live with her until you were able to get on your feet. You had reached the lowest part of your life I had ever seen you reach. Losing your sons now made you depressed, angry and resentful...but not at the drugs. You were mad at the world. In your mind, you saw me as being the one who took your boys away from you.
You moved in with a friend and was able to get a job. Your dad and I had finally got moved into our house after a couple of months of waiting for permits, well drillers, materials and the money to pay for it all.
You were working in south Santaquin one day when I called you and asked if you would like to run down to Mona for your lunch. It was the first time you had talked to me since the fall-out we had had weeks prior. You came down, and we talked. You said you were getting an apartment in Payson and were going to go pick the boys up from Sheree's. They had done well at Sheree's; had the structure they had never had before but I knew how much they loved their Dad. They missed you so much. Some might wonder how they could miss a life with an addict. It's because as I've said before honey. In you there were two men. There was Daren and there was Daren on drugs. Daren was simply wonderful.
"What If." I have asked myself that question so many times over my life. "What if" I hadn't called you that day. Would it had made a difference? "What if" we would have fought you for Vince and Christian. Would that have made you face your demons? What if...what if.. what if.
You went to work for Mark, overseeing some of the projects he had going. Daren was such an assett to him. You could oversee men and get them to do what you wanted done in such a positive manner; a manner where when they left the job, they still liked to be around you. Some of the grouchiest city inspectors were putty in your hands. You could win them over with your quick wit, a handshake, and a grin.
Of course, Daren on drugs was a different story; one Mark would understandably have little patience for.
You worked for him until the first part of 2009. The economy was falling apart and the construction industry was failing.
Haley and Jereme had invited you to move up to Alaska and live with them until you could get yourself set up. So in July of 2009, you and your boys set off on your Alaska adventure. The pictures of you in Alaska were wonderful. You had started gaining weight, and looked so healthy in the pictures with your sons and all the fish you were catching. You had a construction job and things were looking up for you. In September of 2009, you had been asked if you would like to house-set for a man and his wife who were going to the lower 48 for the winter. All you would need to pay would be the utilities. It was a beautiful house that sat right on the Salcha River.
In May of that year, your dad had suffered a heart attack. He had bounced back from having a stent put in, but then the drug store had filled the wrong prescription for him which set him back. Other health issues forced him out of the dump truck business we had started. The stress of everything was having its toll on him. We were not able to make the payments on the dump truck nor on our house. I didn't know what we were going to do. But then you called and told us to come to Alaska and live with you. Living in Alaska had always been your dad's dream and now you had made it possible.
Mark took over the dump truck and the payments, we sold our home on a short sale and your dad and I headed to Alaska. He drove his one ton truck, pulling our trailer house and I followed in my car. The only things of our lives of 45 years that we kept, were on the back of his truck and strapped to the top of the trailer. My possessions kept consisted of my Christmas decorations. His was a few of his construction tools. I had learned that my home did not consist of the roof we lived under, but of the people that were under that roof. I had your dad, so wherever he was at could be my home.
You and Haley met us at the Salcha Lodge as we pulled into Salcha and led us to where we would be living.
"Honey," I asked you, "are you sure about this. I don't want your dad and I to be a burden on you and the boys."
"Mom," you said. "Stop being stupid. You're worried about being a burden on me after all the years I've been your burden. My home is your home. Whatever I have is yours."
Through all the years being in the construction business, I could not remember ever being able to enjoy a winter. Winters were times when we worried about getting enough work, about keeping our employees employed, and keeping equipment and tools maintained. It had never been a time we could really relax and enjoy being inside and warm on a cold winter evening without stress. But that first winter in Alaska gave that to us.
You had been helping Haley and Jereme with the "Salcha House of Horrors" a spook house they helped put together for Halloween. It was held at an old abandoned shack that sat in a field out in Salcha. On Halloween there, the temperatures would drop to a negative 20 to 30, so a fire had to be kept burning so the people who came could gather around it to keep warm until it was their turn to go through the haunted house. You were in charge of getting firewood and keeping the fire burning.
"Nobody's going to be crazy enough to come out in this weather to go to a haunted house," your dad said. But he didn't know Alaskan's very well. The place was PACKED! You kept a big roaring fire going and enlisted your dad's help. He was loving standing by the fire talking to everyone who came. I watched you...being Daren and was so glad you came to Alaska. You were happier than I had ever seen you and so were your boys.
The construction stopped in Alaska and you went on unemployment. I had picked up a part-time bookkeeping job. Your dad had some setbacks with his health. He had caught the swine flu and had pneumonia in both lungs. We put him in the hospital and he slowly started getting a little better physically, but his depression was getting bad. I became frustrated when he said "How in God's name did I end up in this frozen hell," when it had been his dream we were living.
We had Thanksgiving at our house and invited Haley and Jereme over along with some people that didn't have anyplace to go that Thanksgiving day.
Christmas Eve was spent there too as well as New Year's Eve. You and Jereme braved sub-zero weather to set off fireworks over the frozen Salcha River while the rest of us huddled around a burn barrell to keep warm. It was such a wonderful experience being there, in that house, with you and the boys and enjoying our first winter. I thank you so much for that time honey.
The signs began. They were soft at first, but I knew them well. You would lay on the couch and not want to go out. One day. Two days and you would stay. I know now honey that you were afraid. You were afraid to venture out, because what you were feeling made you know that if you left, you would run towards finding drugs. And drugs can be found. It doesn't matter where one moves, unless of course it's an isolated island, drugs and temptations will follow. An itch that you can't scratch away, even though you have tried and have reached blood. It still itches until it drives you crazy. The itch was back for my son.
There would be times when I would get a call from your little boys telling me you were sleeping but they couldn't get you into bed. They were only six and four years old. I would drive over to your home to find you in the stupor the drugs put you in. You would be standing up, hunched over, and stiff like. You would sway back and forth, jerk, wake a little and then fall back into your lethargy. Most of the time, you would have a cigarette in your hand, burnt clear to the filter. I would stay with my grandsons until I could get you to lie down on the couch. I would cover you up and then load the boys into my car and take them home to stay the night.
The thing is Honey, I knew you knew what you were doing to your boys, and I knew that knowledge you buried into your mind with all the other regrets you had. I knew it ate at you daily. You knew that Christian would stay home from school, because he was afraid if he left your side, you would die. You knew that your finances suffered, not because you didn't earn enough money, but because what you earned went towards your drugs. You knew you were not going anyplace in life; you weren't growing, achieving, accomplishing all that you knew you could. In fact my precious son, you didn't want to be who you were.
There's a saying among recovering addicts and alcoholics that when addiction starts, development stops. I saw this with you honey. Your emotional development stopped at the age that you started using drugs. You didn't know how to deal with life. If you were worried, instead of dealing with what worried you, you took drugs to hide it. If you were sad, instead of dealing with what was making you sad, you took drugs to hide it. It all became such a horrible vicious cycle.
How many friends did you watch die over the course of your life? I can think of six. Your friend "V" was such a cute guy. He was funny and charming and cute. I spoke at his funeral, and watched you and Mark place duck calls in is pocket as he laid in his casket. When "V" died from drugs, I thought "This has got to make him see what the drugs are doing. Surely this will wake him up and he will see where he is headed." But you buried it under your own addiction.
I've heard it said that each of us have one special person come into their lives; a soul mate so to say. You found yours in "K". She came into your life and she would never leave it again, if only in your heart.
She moved in with you along with her little boy. He and your sons became fast friends and I, looking for the magic answer to your problems, hoped she would be the answer. Surely, you would do anything for her; anything to keep her.
She became pregnant, and you were ecstatic. You were so certain it was a little girl. Once again I thought "A little girl. Surely, she will turn him around." But "she" didn't come to be. "K" miscarried, and you both were crushed.
Once again, there were three of you in your relationship; you, "K" and drugs. "K" made the correct choice that she needed to think of her little boy and what your relationship would do to him, so she left. For the rest of your life you would tell me there would never be anyone else for you. She was the love of your life. The damn drugs robbed you of her too. And of course, you didn't know how to deal with all your emotions, so you hid them with a bottle of pain pills.
The price of your addiction caused you to lose your home in Springville. You, Vince and Christian moved in with us in Payson. You see my darling son, tough love still wouldn't work when Vince and Christian were in the middle.
Your dad lost the contracts he had in utility construction, so he decided to shut the business down. We moved from our Payson house to a rental in Santaquin. Mark had started his own excavation business and was doing well. You started taking the construction classes so you could get your own license also. "Dirt" was in your blood you would say and you loved to play in it. My sober son had all the right ideas about life. He liked to work hard and would teach his sons the same. "Head down...ass up," you would teach your boys about shoveling, indicating the position they should keep in.
Honey, you didn't even know how truly intelligent you were. Yes, you struggled in school because of ADHD, but your mind was wonderful. How you loved the "History Channel" and would absorb and could recall everything you watched on it. You were so inventive. You were so quick witted. The things that came out of your mouth at an instant's notice would amaze me (and more often than not, shock me). You loved God and you loved the world He created. The mountains were your cathedral. The sun, God's gift. The natural man God created in you was so wonderful!
Your goal to get your contractor's license once again was replaced with pain pills. You had lost your job and was deeply depressed. Your dad and I had found a house in Mona, but we couldn't move into it until we could get a well dug and the waterline ran, so we were going to stay down at the house but live in our trailer house until it was ready to move into.
I had found needles in the bathroom and knew you were doing heroine. You didn't have a job, would soon not have a place to live, and still had two wonderful young boys who needed to be thought of. Sheree offered to take Vince and Christian to Idaho to live with her until you were able to get on your feet. You had reached the lowest part of your life I had ever seen you reach. Losing your sons now made you depressed, angry and resentful...but not at the drugs. You were mad at the world. In your mind, you saw me as being the one who took your boys away from you.
You moved in with a friend and was able to get a job. Your dad and I had finally got moved into our house after a couple of months of waiting for permits, well drillers, materials and the money to pay for it all.
You were working in south Santaquin one day when I called you and asked if you would like to run down to Mona for your lunch. It was the first time you had talked to me since the fall-out we had had weeks prior. You came down, and we talked. You said you were getting an apartment in Payson and were going to go pick the boys up from Sheree's. They had done well at Sheree's; had the structure they had never had before but I knew how much they loved their Dad. They missed you so much. Some might wonder how they could miss a life with an addict. It's because as I've said before honey. In you there were two men. There was Daren and there was Daren on drugs. Daren was simply wonderful.
"What If." I have asked myself that question so many times over my life. "What if" I hadn't called you that day. Would it had made a difference? "What if" we would have fought you for Vince and Christian. Would that have made you face your demons? What if...what if.. what if.
You went to work for Mark, overseeing some of the projects he had going. Daren was such an assett to him. You could oversee men and get them to do what you wanted done in such a positive manner; a manner where when they left the job, they still liked to be around you. Some of the grouchiest city inspectors were putty in your hands. You could win them over with your quick wit, a handshake, and a grin.
Of course, Daren on drugs was a different story; one Mark would understandably have little patience for.
You worked for him until the first part of 2009. The economy was falling apart and the construction industry was failing.
Haley and Jereme had invited you to move up to Alaska and live with them until you could get yourself set up. So in July of 2009, you and your boys set off on your Alaska adventure. The pictures of you in Alaska were wonderful. You had started gaining weight, and looked so healthy in the pictures with your sons and all the fish you were catching. You had a construction job and things were looking up for you. In September of 2009, you had been asked if you would like to house-set for a man and his wife who were going to the lower 48 for the winter. All you would need to pay would be the utilities. It was a beautiful house that sat right on the Salcha River.
In May of that year, your dad had suffered a heart attack. He had bounced back from having a stent put in, but then the drug store had filled the wrong prescription for him which set him back. Other health issues forced him out of the dump truck business we had started. The stress of everything was having its toll on him. We were not able to make the payments on the dump truck nor on our house. I didn't know what we were going to do. But then you called and told us to come to Alaska and live with you. Living in Alaska had always been your dad's dream and now you had made it possible.
Mark took over the dump truck and the payments, we sold our home on a short sale and your dad and I headed to Alaska. He drove his one ton truck, pulling our trailer house and I followed in my car. The only things of our lives of 45 years that we kept, were on the back of his truck and strapped to the top of the trailer. My possessions kept consisted of my Christmas decorations. His was a few of his construction tools. I had learned that my home did not consist of the roof we lived under, but of the people that were under that roof. I had your dad, so wherever he was at could be my home.
You and Haley met us at the Salcha Lodge as we pulled into Salcha and led us to where we would be living.
"Honey," I asked you, "are you sure about this. I don't want your dad and I to be a burden on you and the boys."
"Mom," you said. "Stop being stupid. You're worried about being a burden on me after all the years I've been your burden. My home is your home. Whatever I have is yours."
Through all the years being in the construction business, I could not remember ever being able to enjoy a winter. Winters were times when we worried about getting enough work, about keeping our employees employed, and keeping equipment and tools maintained. It had never been a time we could really relax and enjoy being inside and warm on a cold winter evening without stress. But that first winter in Alaska gave that to us.
You had been helping Haley and Jereme with the "Salcha House of Horrors" a spook house they helped put together for Halloween. It was held at an old abandoned shack that sat in a field out in Salcha. On Halloween there, the temperatures would drop to a negative 20 to 30, so a fire had to be kept burning so the people who came could gather around it to keep warm until it was their turn to go through the haunted house. You were in charge of getting firewood and keeping the fire burning.
"Nobody's going to be crazy enough to come out in this weather to go to a haunted house," your dad said. But he didn't know Alaskan's very well. The place was PACKED! You kept a big roaring fire going and enlisted your dad's help. He was loving standing by the fire talking to everyone who came. I watched you...being Daren and was so glad you came to Alaska. You were happier than I had ever seen you and so were your boys.
The construction stopped in Alaska and you went on unemployment. I had picked up a part-time bookkeeping job. Your dad had some setbacks with his health. He had caught the swine flu and had pneumonia in both lungs. We put him in the hospital and he slowly started getting a little better physically, but his depression was getting bad. I became frustrated when he said "How in God's name did I end up in this frozen hell," when it had been his dream we were living.
We had Thanksgiving at our house and invited Haley and Jereme over along with some people that didn't have anyplace to go that Thanksgiving day.
Christmas Eve was spent there too as well as New Year's Eve. You and Jereme braved sub-zero weather to set off fireworks over the frozen Salcha River while the rest of us huddled around a burn barrell to keep warm. It was such a wonderful experience being there, in that house, with you and the boys and enjoying our first winter. I thank you so much for that time honey.
The signs began. They were soft at first, but I knew them well. You would lay on the couch and not want to go out. One day. Two days and you would stay. I know now honey that you were afraid. You were afraid to venture out, because what you were feeling made you know that if you left, you would run towards finding drugs. And drugs can be found. It doesn't matter where one moves, unless of course it's an isolated island, drugs and temptations will follow. An itch that you can't scratch away, even though you have tried and have reached blood. It still itches until it drives you crazy. The itch was back for my son.
Monday, February 18, 2013
Daren's Story - Chapter 14
We were all wearing our emotions on our sleeves that morning. A lot of things flowed through our minds like water through a broken dam; things like fear and worry. I have chosen to refer to our family as "passionate" whereas your dad chose to say we were a bunch of loons. I think some actions that morning would coincide more along your dad's terminology. Rainee and Haley got locked in a heated conversation that resulted in Rainee hitting Haley over the head with the hotel directory/menu. Mark kept one of them in one room while I took the other in the separate room. After a few minutes of rationality, we did what the Whiting's always do at stressful times. Rainee walked back into Haley's room and said "Let's go eat." To which Haley replied, "Okay."
I marvel my darling boy, that our family can still carry on a conversation with each other let alone be as close knit as we are when with all the silly, stupid things we have said and done. I guess the fact we are all "loons" at one time or another prevents us from throwing rocks in our glass houses.
We all went down to the hotel restaurant and had lunch and tried to come up with some kind of a plan. Staying longer in New York had really not been factored into our budget, not with our rooms costing $299.00 a night each.
When we got back to our room, I called Jet Blue and told them our situation. Jet Blue stepped right up to the plate telling me they would pay for our expenses until we could fly out. They paid our for our hotel rooms, meals at the hotel restaurant, and even to have our clothes cleaned. The generosity they offered us was so very much appreciated.
We stayed in the hotel the better part off the day, afraid of the unknown of what might happen. Finally we ventured out to find Time Square an eerie desolate. The shoulder to shoulder people we had encountered the night before was no longer. Everything had been shut down: the theaters, restaurants, gift shops, everything. As we walked down Broadway, tears were brought to our eyes by the patriotism shown. Hanging from upper story windows were sheets where upon was written "God Bless America."
We looked down Broadway and saw the billowing smoke from the World Trade Center. You and Susan walked down as far as you could go and found ashes covering everything. Sheree and Charmane passed by a man standing on a crate, declaring the end of the world was upon us while President Bush could be seen from the New York Times Tower declaring America would not tolerate such acts of terrorism. The lullabye of Broadway: noise, traffic, and honking horns had been replaced with the nightmarish sounds of the sirens of firetrucks and ambulances. We would find out later, that the young man running the elevator who had taken us to the top floor of the WTC had been among the casualties, along with the pretty blonde girl who had helped take our photographs overlooking New York. Putting faces to the lost added to the realization of the senselessness of the destruction.
Back in our hotel room, I found you looking out our window. I placed my hand through your arm as you said "You could have all been killed and it would have been my fault." I knew although I said everything I could to try and make you realize that it was not your fault, you would take it and tuck it into the recesses of your mind where you harbored other guilts and would let it gnaw at you.
Each morning we turned on the television to see if the airspace had been opened to allow us to go home. Each day we would find we were still trapped. We stayed close by our hotel for a couple of days until the restaurant food all started tasting the same. We all agreed that we could think of nothing that would taste better than an ordinary bologna sandwich so we set off in search of a grocery store that was open to buy the makings. People were venturing out again. The sidewalks were filled once more. I found it so strange that in a city of approximately eight million people, one of the ones Dan Rather's News would pick to interview would be me.
We found a market, bought bologna, bread, mustard, Miracle Whip and potato chips and went back to our room to make our lunch. A simple sandwich had never tasted so good.
The concierge of the hotel called our room to tell us the cast and crew of "42nd Street" was putting on a free show for anyone who wanted to attend. She asked if we would be interested and of course we were. The show itself was wonderful, but when the cast came out for an encore carrying American flags, the audience erutped into cheering and clapping and whistling. Tears streamed down my cheeks at the show of such patriotism and my heart felt as though it would burst. I looked at my children and saw they shared my feelings.
We kept making our calls home, reassuring our families that we were all okay. We didn't know when we were going to be able to leave New York though and your dad was getting very nervous. He called Jereme to ask him if he rented a motor home, if Jereme would be able to drive back to pick us up. I told him it would do no good driving back as they would not be able to get into New York anyway.
Finally, we got word from Jet Blue that we would be able to get a flight. We were thankful, but we were also very apprehensive. Was it truly safe for us to fly?
Getting through Security was long and tedious, but I was never more thankful to be inconvenienced. Now, each time I fly, I appreicate the time spent going through all the x-raying or whatever else is required. We sat at our gate for quite a while, waiting. I had never been a racist in my life, but I must admit that at that time, I was wary when I saw anyone with dark skin. I am thankful that feeling did not stay with me, for I know for every bad person of whatever color, there are far more good ones.
When we made it through Security, you and Mark went to the restroom, and when you came out, I noticed you had taken off the sweatshirts you had both been wearing. You had yours wrapped around your right arm and Mark had his wrapped around his left arm. They both had been tied in place with shoelaces. I would later find out you had done this in case there were any other terrorists aboard that might try and use box cutters the way the others had done. Your theories were that if they attacked, you could block them with the arm with the sweatshirt while you took them down with your free hands.
Can I just tell you how much I love you both and appreciate that you would devise and instigate a plan to keep us safe. Even without needing to use it, the fact that you were willing to do so proved what heros you both were.
We boarded our plane, but before we could take off we were informed by the pilot we would need to be detained for a while. We had to wait until after "Airforce One" had taken off.
None of us slept on the way home. We prayed a lot and kept watch. So very thankfully, we made it safely back to Utah, our families intact.
I marvel my darling boy, that our family can still carry on a conversation with each other let alone be as close knit as we are when with all the silly, stupid things we have said and done. I guess the fact we are all "loons" at one time or another prevents us from throwing rocks in our glass houses.
We all went down to the hotel restaurant and had lunch and tried to come up with some kind of a plan. Staying longer in New York had really not been factored into our budget, not with our rooms costing $299.00 a night each.
When we got back to our room, I called Jet Blue and told them our situation. Jet Blue stepped right up to the plate telling me they would pay for our expenses until we could fly out. They paid our for our hotel rooms, meals at the hotel restaurant, and even to have our clothes cleaned. The generosity they offered us was so very much appreciated.
We stayed in the hotel the better part off the day, afraid of the unknown of what might happen. Finally we ventured out to find Time Square an eerie desolate. The shoulder to shoulder people we had encountered the night before was no longer. Everything had been shut down: the theaters, restaurants, gift shops, everything. As we walked down Broadway, tears were brought to our eyes by the patriotism shown. Hanging from upper story windows were sheets where upon was written "God Bless America."
We looked down Broadway and saw the billowing smoke from the World Trade Center. You and Susan walked down as far as you could go and found ashes covering everything. Sheree and Charmane passed by a man standing on a crate, declaring the end of the world was upon us while President Bush could be seen from the New York Times Tower declaring America would not tolerate such acts of terrorism. The lullabye of Broadway: noise, traffic, and honking horns had been replaced with the nightmarish sounds of the sirens of firetrucks and ambulances. We would find out later, that the young man running the elevator who had taken us to the top floor of the WTC had been among the casualties, along with the pretty blonde girl who had helped take our photographs overlooking New York. Putting faces to the lost added to the realization of the senselessness of the destruction.
Back in our hotel room, I found you looking out our window. I placed my hand through your arm as you said "You could have all been killed and it would have been my fault." I knew although I said everything I could to try and make you realize that it was not your fault, you would take it and tuck it into the recesses of your mind where you harbored other guilts and would let it gnaw at you.
Each morning we turned on the television to see if the airspace had been opened to allow us to go home. Each day we would find we were still trapped. We stayed close by our hotel for a couple of days until the restaurant food all started tasting the same. We all agreed that we could think of nothing that would taste better than an ordinary bologna sandwich so we set off in search of a grocery store that was open to buy the makings. People were venturing out again. The sidewalks were filled once more. I found it so strange that in a city of approximately eight million people, one of the ones Dan Rather's News would pick to interview would be me.
We found a market, bought bologna, bread, mustard, Miracle Whip and potato chips and went back to our room to make our lunch. A simple sandwich had never tasted so good.
The concierge of the hotel called our room to tell us the cast and crew of "42nd Street" was putting on a free show for anyone who wanted to attend. She asked if we would be interested and of course we were. The show itself was wonderful, but when the cast came out for an encore carrying American flags, the audience erutped into cheering and clapping and whistling. Tears streamed down my cheeks at the show of such patriotism and my heart felt as though it would burst. I looked at my children and saw they shared my feelings.
We kept making our calls home, reassuring our families that we were all okay. We didn't know when we were going to be able to leave New York though and your dad was getting very nervous. He called Jereme to ask him if he rented a motor home, if Jereme would be able to drive back to pick us up. I told him it would do no good driving back as they would not be able to get into New York anyway.
Finally, we got word from Jet Blue that we would be able to get a flight. We were thankful, but we were also very apprehensive. Was it truly safe for us to fly?
Getting through Security was long and tedious, but I was never more thankful to be inconvenienced. Now, each time I fly, I appreicate the time spent going through all the x-raying or whatever else is required. We sat at our gate for quite a while, waiting. I had never been a racist in my life, but I must admit that at that time, I was wary when I saw anyone with dark skin. I am thankful that feeling did not stay with me, for I know for every bad person of whatever color, there are far more good ones.
When we made it through Security, you and Mark went to the restroom, and when you came out, I noticed you had taken off the sweatshirts you had both been wearing. You had yours wrapped around your right arm and Mark had his wrapped around his left arm. They both had been tied in place with shoelaces. I would later find out you had done this in case there were any other terrorists aboard that might try and use box cutters the way the others had done. Your theories were that if they attacked, you could block them with the arm with the sweatshirt while you took them down with your free hands.
Can I just tell you how much I love you both and appreciate that you would devise and instigate a plan to keep us safe. Even without needing to use it, the fact that you were willing to do so proved what heros you both were.
We boarded our plane, but before we could take off we were informed by the pilot we would need to be detained for a while. We had to wait until after "Airforce One" had taken off.
None of us slept on the way home. We prayed a lot and kept watch. So very thankfully, we made it safely back to Utah, our families intact.
Daren's Story - Chapter 13
It was time to leave New York City. The trip had been such a wonderful experience, two-fold. First of all and most importantly, perhaps my boy had a chance to kick his addiction and secondly, what an incredible opportunity I had had in spending those days with my seven children.
We were on the 34th floor of the Marriott Marquis Hotel. We had the blinds pulled open letting in the beautiful autumn sunlight as we packed our bags. Checkout time was 11:00 a.m. and since we didn't leave NYC until that evening, we planned on leaving our bags at the bell hop station and getting in some last minute sightseeing.
It's funny how one can remember exactly what they were doing at a given time on a given day. I was standing in front of the window ironing something. I can't remember what the something was, only that I was ironing. Mark and Sheree were sitting on the other bed in our room. We were watching television as we packed, just as the first plane hit the World Trade Center. I remember looking out the window just then and thinking "It's not cloudy or foggy or anything. How could the pilot not see the World Trade Center?" Then the second plane hit.
"Mom," Sheree said. "It's a terrorist attack!"
All of my other children and Charmane came running in from their room. We all stood around watching the terror unfold.
The third plane hit the Pentagon, and I worried about your Aunt Lola. My sister and her husband Boyd were in Washington DC.
Then, the plane went down in Pennsylvania.
What was going to happen next? We were in the heart of New York City and terror was exploding around us. Did they have car bombs they were planning on using? Chemical warfare? All of the "what-ifs" ran through each of our minds. It was you and Mark who went down to the under ground garage and told the manager they needed to get all the cars out from under there.
"Mom," you said to me. "Call down and keep our rooms."
I called the reservation desk and told them we would not be checking out at 11:00. How thankful I am that you had told me to do that, or we would have been out in the streets of NYC for the next five days. Everything was shut down. All tunnels and bridges coming into NYC or leaving, were closed. Airports were shut down as well as the subways and other public means of transportation.
Did our family remember I had changed our tour? Might they think we were in the World Trade Center that morning as we had previously planned? My grandchildren were in school. Since most of them were so close to the same ages and lived in Payson, most attended Taylor Elementary. We called the schools and told the secretary to get in contact with all the Whiting children and let them know we were safe. Then my children called their spouses. I was the last to call your dad.
He was out in the fields on his tractor when his cell phone rang.
"Where are you?" I asked him when he picked up.
"I'm out plowing," he said.
"Go in and turn on the television," I told him. "There's been a terrorist attack in New York City. We are all fine, but we won't be flying home tonight."
After assuring him we were all okay and telling him how very much I loved him, I promised to call him every hour to let him know what was going on. Unfortunately, there would be times I couldn't get through because the lines would be packed with everyone else trying to contact loved ones. Since then, I've thought how many might have been those trapped in the WTC trying to call and tell the ones they loved goodbye.
We were on the 34th floor of the Marriott Marquis Hotel. We had the blinds pulled open letting in the beautiful autumn sunlight as we packed our bags. Checkout time was 11:00 a.m. and since we didn't leave NYC until that evening, we planned on leaving our bags at the bell hop station and getting in some last minute sightseeing.
It's funny how one can remember exactly what they were doing at a given time on a given day. I was standing in front of the window ironing something. I can't remember what the something was, only that I was ironing. Mark and Sheree were sitting on the other bed in our room. We were watching television as we packed, just as the first plane hit the World Trade Center. I remember looking out the window just then and thinking "It's not cloudy or foggy or anything. How could the pilot not see the World Trade Center?" Then the second plane hit.
"Mom," Sheree said. "It's a terrorist attack!"
All of my other children and Charmane came running in from their room. We all stood around watching the terror unfold.
The third plane hit the Pentagon, and I worried about your Aunt Lola. My sister and her husband Boyd were in Washington DC.
Then, the plane went down in Pennsylvania.
What was going to happen next? We were in the heart of New York City and terror was exploding around us. Did they have car bombs they were planning on using? Chemical warfare? All of the "what-ifs" ran through each of our minds. It was you and Mark who went down to the under ground garage and told the manager they needed to get all the cars out from under there.
"Mom," you said to me. "Call down and keep our rooms."
I called the reservation desk and told them we would not be checking out at 11:00. How thankful I am that you had told me to do that, or we would have been out in the streets of NYC for the next five days. Everything was shut down. All tunnels and bridges coming into NYC or leaving, were closed. Airports were shut down as well as the subways and other public means of transportation.
Did our family remember I had changed our tour? Might they think we were in the World Trade Center that morning as we had previously planned? My grandchildren were in school. Since most of them were so close to the same ages and lived in Payson, most attended Taylor Elementary. We called the schools and told the secretary to get in contact with all the Whiting children and let them know we were safe. Then my children called their spouses. I was the last to call your dad.
He was out in the fields on his tractor when his cell phone rang.
"Where are you?" I asked him when he picked up.
"I'm out plowing," he said.
"Go in and turn on the television," I told him. "There's been a terrorist attack in New York City. We are all fine, but we won't be flying home tonight."
After assuring him we were all okay and telling him how very much I loved him, I promised to call him every hour to let him know what was going on. Unfortunately, there would be times I couldn't get through because the lines would be packed with everyone else trying to contact loved ones. Since then, I've thought how many might have been those trapped in the WTC trying to call and tell the ones they loved goodbye.
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