When I was in college Elannah Rose went to the preschool on campus. It was a wonderful little program, nestled in the back of the campus and surrounded by redwoods. I loved taking her there, the location was beautiful, the staff amazing, and I could always spend my lunch with her so that I didn't have to spend the whole day away from her.
The campus itself was built on a fault line which divided the main campus from the preschool, and I could never quite get it out of my head that if there were an earthquake it was highly possible that I wouldn't be able to get to her. I was often obsessed with the idea and as I would rush over to pick her up I would imagine how awful it would be if something happened to my daughter and I was stuck with no way to help her.
As a parent, this is our worst nightmare, and we search for clues, for any answer, for THE answer. The one that will allow us to set our children up for success, or at least for safety, so that we can relax a bit and celebrate a job well done.
As I live past the nightmare and try to analyze the pieces (or sometimes try not to analyze the pieces), I realize that the signs that my daughters addiction was shattering her life were not obvious and easy to list, so that I could share with other parents so that they won't make the same mistakes I did. The most important thing I wish I had noticed would have seemed insignificant at the time. The one that stands out in my mind is the books she read, that is the one major indicator that I wish I would have understood.
It now seems so momentous - I was reading Beautiful Boy, by David Scheff, which is the heart wrenching story of a father dealing with his sons' addiction. About halfway through the book I realized that Elannah Rose was reading what I consider to be the companion book, the one written by the son about his struggle with heroin. I remember thinking that it was such a funny coincidence that she would have chosen to read that book at the same time that I read the fathers story. I chalked it up to her broadened horizons. Now that I know that it was right around the time she first recognized her addiction, I wonder if Elannah Rose was trying to figure out how the young man conquered his.
Who would ever think that literary choices would be an indicator that someone's' life was at risk? Not me. Not any average parent, I'm pretty sure. However, my daughter gave up her science fiction and fantasy novels for harrowing tales of drug addiction and troubled teenagers. I look back and think that it should have been obvious, but it was not even a little clue in my mind.
This book was a little earthquake. Maybe a 4.2, sizeable enough to take note, but hardly enough to create great alarm. Ultimately, it was the first tremor in a massive earthquake that separated us, and I could not get to her in time.
I wonder if I will see the tremors that my younger children face in time to help them navigate the dangers of the world. I wonder if I will be able to provide them with better guidance, or if I will be as blind to their downfalls as I was to Elannah Roses.
As the second year of her passing draws to a close and I find myself reflecting more deeply on her life, I don't feel that I am any closer to figuring out how to do better. But, oddly, I feel that I have figured out how to honor her properly – by letting my love and joy in her life be bigger today than my sense of loss, even though I cannot hold her close.
~Hannah
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