This year as the anniversary of Elannah Roses death passed and I became entangled in my grief and anger and unending self flagellation, I couldn’t stop thinking about what is actually happening to save future lives and families. I am more and more convinced of the need to discard preconceptions and prejudices, those judgements we hold about how we should all behave in our own homes, whether someone else is a good or successful parent/child/human, and to come together as a village.
Since the loss of my daughter my village has saved my life, my sanity, given me something to live for and work for on a daily basis. Part of my village is my little nuclear family who inject joy into my life, grieve with me, celebrate with me, prove to me that while I may always believe that I failed my first born, I am not a failure. Before I lost Elannah Rose I didn’t realize how much more than that I had. My village is so much bigger.
I had a sister who literally fed me when I was so broken that didn’t want to feed myself. A circle of friends who made sure we were never alone, one of whom made sure I could give voice to my grief and helped find a way to make it constructive.
I felt so alone when Elannah Rose was struggling with her addiction, on an island where we would do anything to save her but I was ashamed or scared to let our family and friends know and just uneducated about where to find help. I closed my village away, on the other side of an invisible barrier held up by destructive and terrible secrets.
Having lived through such an isolating experience I believe that we have to find a way, as a society, to break down those barriers that make us hold back when we need help as much as we need to find a way to let go of those things that cause is to judge each other. We need to do this so that our children will learn to look for help and so that we can, too. Who would reach out for help if the only thing on the other side is condemnation?
In the first years after Elannah Rose passed, I thought I could build a place that would bring people together to learn and lean on each other. In my mind we would fight the influx of drugs and other dangerous things by breaking down barriers to expert resources, to law enforcement, and to each other - a safe and judgement free zone. I wanted to take action. To make my grief into a tool. To save lives.
Today I am just as lost about how to achieve such a lofty goal, but what I have learned is that when you take down your own barriers you are met with far less judgement and criticism than you expect. And maybe that’s the first step.
I will always have failed my daughter. I will always have that voice in my mind that wonders how I can expect to help others when I failed so horribly and so absolutely. I’m trying not to listen to her, so that I can do my part to build a next generation that feels whole and supported, to show love and withhold judgement, and as my husband would say “to build a world full of ass kicking warrior women.”
To my daughter, Elannah Rose - I love you without end. I hold you in my heart. I miss you with every painful breath, and every joy that we cannot share with you. I hope you are singing.
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