Light

September 3, 2017

The Initiative.

July 24, 1987

I had turned 9 nearly two months prior and as I held a balloon that my mom had given me earlier that day during the parade, I sat on the side of the hill at Liberty Park awaiting the fireworks that were scheduled to start in the next few minutes.

I could feel the excitement well up inside me as I held my breath. The fireworks had just started. As they exploded, I listened to the crackle high above me in the air intermingling with the crowds hushed ooh's and aah's... The theme song to my favorite movie reverberated throughout the park. It was Star Wars: Return Of The Jedi, blaring over two speakers which were positioned strategically on either side of the hill. I sat like a deer in headlights and stared at the sky while I slowly drew my balloon to me. I finally took the balloon and held onto it as I felt it vibrate in my hands. I held it close to my body hugging my little balloon out of fear that I would lose it to the sky and the fireworks.

After eight years of watching the fireworks from awkward locations that had me craning my little neck to see the lights firing off in the sky, my mom had secured my cousins and myself what she boasted were "First Class" seats to what would become the most epic firework display that I would never forget. In the years since that moment, I look back to this time as the most memorable moment of my childhood years. I sat next to my mom and I was inspired by the lights, moved to tears by the music as I hugged my balloon and my mom sat next to me, oohing and aaahing over the display along with the crowd.

I love remembering that moment.

Back then, my summers were filled with sun and laughter and moments like these that I spent with my mom. She was my best friend. Fireworks have never been the same for me since that time. As the show closed out and the music changed to a thrilling rendition of another of John Williams' brilliant compositions, my balloon shuddered in my arms as I stared at the sky, tears welling up in my eyes. I didn’t want the moment to end. I wanted to stay mesmerized with the display until my little heart stopped beating.

But as soon as it started, the fireworks were over. And my mom rushed to get our belongings together and grabbed me and my younger brother, Eric, and my cousins to get us all back to the car. I remember walking back hurriedly through the crowds as my mom followed my Aunt Sandy and her girls all back to the cars to get us back to our house.

July 26, 1987

11 PM

I was fast asleep when I was awoken by my Aunt Grace. She and my uncle, her husband, had come to the house to pick up my mom. Me, my older sister, and my younger brother went with my uncle. My aunt insisted that she and my mom would meet us at her house later, and that we were going to sleep over with her kids.

I loved sleeping over at my cousin's house. But this particular night had me questioning what the real motive to leave our own beds in the middle of the night was.

I didn’t know anything, but as I climbed into my uncle's 1980 Lincoln Continental, I knew that something was wrong. It was many years later in my adulthood that I would find the attempt to help my mom was thwarted by my mother's own intellect. My mother was able to leave the care of a facility and was released back to the public, all to Grace's dismay.

My mom's sister did everything she could to help my mother that night. Grace even brought my mother back to her house where we were to spend the night in order to find another solution for her in the morning.

Meanwhile, my 9-year-old self, couldn’t express the feeling I had when I climbed into my Uncle's car. I just knew that something couldn’t be right about the situation and I frowned. I was worried but my brain was too young to consider any of the immediate concerns that my body was registering. I stared at the sky and started playing the game I always played. It was called “If I look up, where am I?”

It was something I would do to take my mind off of potentially worrisome situations. I would look at the street lights and guess where I was in relation to where we were heading. In this case, we were heading directly over to my Aunt Grace's house and I was going to memorize each street light before we made it there.

By the time we made it to Grace's house, my brother ran into the room where the boys slept and went straight to sleep. My sister and I stayed in my cousin, Grace's only daughter's, room with her. After finding bedding and an extra mattress for me, my sister shared the bed with my cousin. I went to sleep. I was exhausted.

July 27, 1987

6 AM

I woke up to a frantic sound. I heard my sister crying as she ran up the stairs. I woke up and I didn’t know why but my eyes welled up with tears as my cousin stood in the doorway and blocked me from leaving the room. I looked at her and without saying anything. I heard my sister cry over my mom and what she saw. She cried about blood on the wall and that my mom was lying there. My sister said, "I thought she was asleep."

My cousin, in order to protect me, told me that I wasn’t to leave the room and I stayed. Scared and confused, I asked for my mom and I heard my Aunt Grace scream and wail as she also ran up the stairs and got on the phone with my Aunt Sandy….

Slowly, I walked to the window in the bedroom and stared out towards the street. "What happened?" I thought. "What happened?" I saw Aunt Sandy, within minutes of the phone call Grace placed, drive up to the house and stop short of the driveway. As she got out and walked towards the house, Grace, still upset and crying, ran out to her and sobbed. As I was still processing what was happening, I watched Aunt Sandy cover her mouth and run towards the front door.

7 AM.

I hadn’t moved from the window. I stood there and I watched an ambulance show up, I watched officers and EMTs rush into the house, and eventually, I watched them pull a gurney with a white sheet over it out. "What happened?" I thought as I watched with shock. "What happened?" I asked myself, knowing full well what it meant and I realized in horror that it was my mom.

My cousin finally came back into her room and told me that my mom had passed away. I stared at her face, not really comprehending the statement that she had just made. I wanted to get dramatic, but I felt a little dead inside. My heart sank to my feet.

I didn't know what the next thing I should do would have been. I was waiting for orders from either my sister or my cousin to tell me what I should do and how to feel. Instead, there was the sorrow that I heard from the living room, I listened to Aunt Sandy and Grace crying openly. I didn’t want to and couldn’t do much more than to walk back to the window in the bed room.

I stared out of the window at the street lamp as I embedded a permanent frown on my face. I continued to stare at the lamp. I couldn't stop thinking why: why I couldn’t keep my mom happier. Why didn’t anything I attempt to do — why didn't it work?

***********************

It was January 1985. I was 7-years-old... and I loved listening to the radio, not nearly as much as I LOVED watching TV. The radio was a close second. Michael Jackson was at the pinnacle of his popularity, and my mom indulged me by purchasing for me three magazines that promoted MJ all over it.

Needless to say, I cut out all of those photos and plastered it all over the front room. I told her that I wanted to move my room to the living room. She let me keep the pictures up for three days before I had to remove them and move back to my actual bedroom.

A few days later, I came home from school. I heard my mom was screaming at my sister in the kitchen. She held onto my brother by the collar of his shirt as he too was scared and crying hysterically. My mom screamed at him and my sister to keep quiet, and I heard her mutter something about spies and being able to hear everything we said.

As soon as I walked through the entrance to the kitchen, I saw my mom and my brother and my sister all shocked and scared. My mom looked at me with hysteria in her eyes and screamed at me as well. Then she lowered her voice as she started pushing my brother and sister towards the bathroom. She said something about Russian spies. I was shocked and scared.

My mom yelled at me to lock the front door and to do it quickly. I turned and ran for the door and as I was locking the door I heard my mom screaming at me from the bathroom. I then turned and ran back over to the bathroom. I didn’t have time to react before my mom grabbed my arm as I watched my sister crying softly. She was kneeling on the floor in the bathroom.

My brother was only 2 and he was also kneeling on the bathroom floor next to my sister. My mom shoved me to the floor and shut the door as she kneeled beside us. And there we were, in the bathroom in a circle with our arms folded as my Mom frantically, yet quietly, prayed though loudly enough that we could all hear her distinctly worried loud whisper. I remember Mom prayed for our safety against Russians and Aliens and I kneeled there as I peeked at my sister. She was still quietly crying. My brother was also crying softly. My mom had us in that bathroom as she continued to pray for the safety of all the US troops to win the war against the Russians and she pleaded with God to protect the elephants.

I thought to myself as she prayed fervently.....

I have to do something.

Later that night, when my mom was finally calm and sleeping, I got up and said one of the longest prayers that I remember saying at that age.

I asked Heavenly Father to find me something that would help my mom become the happy mom I knew. I wanted her to be happy again.

I begged him to give me something that I could give to her that would make her feel better. I told him that I cried too, in my sleep when I would wake up and I heard her in the other room sobbing. And though I didn’t know how to comfort her, I did everything I could to stop the sadness. I behaved goofy and she would laugh and call me goofy. I went out of my way to tell her things that made me happy in hopes that those things would also make her happy.

Soon after that prayer, I was again listening to the radio and as the commercials started, I got up to change the station. Before I had the chance to get to the radio…

I heard it.

There was a commercial for a tape. It was a cassette tape that was being offered to anyone who was suffering from setbacks and heartaches. It was called Bounce Back and it was FREE.

That was it!

I didn’t have any money — I was 7.

Also, most of my mom’s worries included not having any money so with that problem resolved, all I could do was stand there staring at the radio. I stood there, stunned. My mouth fell wide open as I heard the man speak about "disappointments being a part of life."

My face must have looked as if I had tasted chocolate cake for the very first time. The commercial left a phone number to call to order the tape. It was being offered by the LDS church as an initiative for anyone who was suffering. I knew right then and there Heavenly Father heard me. And before I could get emotional again, I started chanting the phone number as I raced around the house looking for a pencil and piece of paper. Finally, I found something to write down the number. I scribbled the phone number and rushed over to the house phone.

I dialed that number and held my breath until I spoke to someone to order a copy of it.

“Hello!” “I need that tape you’re offering. It’s for my mom. She’s unhappy.”

After giving them our mailing address, I hung up and felt like I accomplished something. I nearly skipped to school every day and raced home to check the mailbox when I got home.

Finally.

I found it in the mailbox when I got home from school. I was so excited when I saw it, that I snapped it up from the mailbox and raced into the house to tell her about it. I stopped short of her bedroom in the kitchen to get it out of its box. I tore the package open and smiled as I stared at the blue cassette tape that said Bounce Back on it. I couldn’t wait for my mom to do the same. I knew in my heart as soon as she listened to it she would inevitably…"Bounce Back."

Unfortunately, she wasn’t having a very good day.

She didn’t look at the tape for very long as I tried explaining to her that it was a tape that would help make her happy. I watched in quiet desperation as I saw the expression on her face fall. She looked down at the ground and said quietly, “That’s nice, Wendy.” I frowned. “But mom?! It’s for you! I got it for you!” My eyes welled up as I begged her to listen to it with me. But she turned away from me and left the room. A frown crossed my face as I stood there and I stared at the cassette tape in my hand. Why didn’t she believe me? Didn’t she believe in God? I knew he sent me this as an answer.

So I did the only thing I could do as a 7-year-old kid whose mom refused to listen to her.

I played the tape.

I played it over and over again. I remember keeping it in the radio and screaming whenever I found a different tape in there for any reason. I was so upset that my mom had to make my sister promise that she would never put another tape in the tape deck because Wendy’s “Church” tape was in there... and what I wanted... my mom gave me.

So I played that tape. I played it over and over again. I played it until my sister started threatening me. I would tell her that Heavenly Father sent me the tape and I was going to listen to it until mom got better. She just looked at me, called me weird, and left me alone.

There was one song in particular that I started playing and memorizing so that I could sing it at night for my mom when she would cry and if I heard her… I sang it. I would half whisper sing it, but I sang the song...over and over again. If I was in the room with her, I would be awake listening to her sob… And I sang the song.

“Here’s a little song,

to help you get along,

it’ll see you through…

when you’re feeling blue…

though it’s not profound when

You’re feeling down so down.

Sing this little tune and you’ll feel

Better soon…"

Even though my mom was weeping I could tell that she was listening, so I kept singing...

"You’re not alone,

even though right now

You’re on your own.

You are loved in ways

That can’t be shown.

Your needs are known…

You're not alone

And when you cry,

you’re just letting go of heartache

Deep inside,

so tomorrow there’ll be sunshine and sky

And love close by…

You’re not alone."

My mom would stop weeping long enough to listen to me while I finished the song...

"And I know that it’s not easy

But I know that it won’t last…

'Cause one who loves you more than me

Is sending blessings fast.

You’re not alone

Say it one more time I’m not alone

Even when it’s hard to find the words

You’re always heard

You’re not alone….

You’re not alone…

say it one more time

I’m not alone

Even when it’s hard to find the words

Your prayers are heard…

You’re not alone."

It took some time, but I think I convinced myself that the tape helped her. It helped me. I had strength in the gospel. I believed that everything would be better because Heavenly Father helped my mom when she needed it the most. And since I watched my mom cry less, I didn’t rely on the tape as much. I didn’t sing the song to her at night. I prayed and thanked Heavenly Father for helping my mom find her happiness again….

It’s what I thought.

It was May of 1986. It had been a year since I received the cassette from the Church. I was also turning 8 and I got baptized. My mom was my partner in crime. She was my best friend, and she always called me her twin. She was my twin since we had birthdays within a week of each other and we are both Gemini’s.

I remembered thanking Heavenly Father for the blessing of helping my mom feel happiness & joy.

***************************

July 27, 1987

10 AM

“Sometimes when disappointments crowd in on you, you feel so alone and so unable to pick yourself up and make a fresh start... but when you look, way down deep inside, you realize there’s another source of help you can always count on…” -Bounce Back, 1985

She was my best friend. I had no other friends at school because I was a fat Tongan kid with bushy, out-of-control hair... and the only friend I felt I had…

...was my mom.

I just witnessed them taking her away on a gurney, with a white sheet over her body.

She was my best friend. It was the only thought I had in my mind. All of the questions about why it happened and what I could have done didn’t come until I could accept that my mom was no longer taking me back home after our sleepover.

I can’t recall what I did for the rest of the day other than, I remember the hugs that Grace gave me, that Sandy held onto me as she sobbed. I remembered that I wanted to write this all down, that I didn’t want to forget the day I lost my best friend.

There is one thing I remember distinctly. I remembered my mom’s song, as I watched the EMTs roll her body away while I stood staring out of the window, and as she was being placed into the ambulance…

I sang my mom her song… I kept that memory of that moment in my heart even though the ambulance with my mom had long since left the house... I stood there and sang her song for her. While I did so, I tried to remember every detail of her face and her eyes and the way she smelled when I hugged her and she held me. I couldn't tear myself away from the window that day.

“You’re not alone…"

As tears ran down my cheeks and I could barely breathe,

I whispered to her our song…

"And I know that it’s not easy

But I know that it won’t last…

Cause one who loves you more than me

Is sending blessings fast."

I crossed my arms over my chest in hopes that Heavenly Father would stop the heartache that was overwhelming me…

"You’re not alone...

say it one more time

I’m not alone..."

And that’s when I felt peace…

Before I said goodbye, I found the strength to keep singing her our song…

"Even when it’s hard to find the words

Your prayers are heard…

You’re not alone…"

It’s been 30 years since that day.

I was at a family reunion on July 27, 2017, and I had to be reminded that it had been 30 years since I lost my best friend. And though it’s been hard to find the words, my prayers were and have been heard. It took me some time to find the words to write what I’ve felt all these years without her in my life.

I’ve had her with me in other ways, but not to have her here physically, to hug me and hold me. My mom and my best friend haven't been here physically to help me overcome my greatest triumphs and deepest sorrows. I believe it’s because of our song, and the faith that I displayed even as a child has given me the opportunity to never have been alone. With God’s great love, my mom has been here with me. My best friend has been able to stand by my side, though I haven’t had the privilege to see her, I know she’s been with me.

Because of this great love I’ve changed my life.

And because of the love I have for my mom, I wanted to start this initiative to help others who suffer from similar trials. I’ve finally come to peace with the fact that this story is my story to tell. I hope that it helps save others from making the same decision my mom made.

She suffered from a deepening depression and other mental ailments. None of those were ever diagnosed because she knew how to hide her sorrows. The sadness and her paranoia are what her kids encountered while we were home with her. When she felt better, her “Game Face” was on, and everyone loved her. She put people in a good mood, she was a happy and fun Auntie. Though I was young, I wasn’t too young to see how my mom made everyone in her family and her friends feel her love for them. I’m glad to be a lot like her in that way.

In the last 30 years, whenever I would speak of her death, it was always followed by a statement that she was ill. I wouldn’t go into the fact that she had taken her own life. I couldn’t accept that her state of mind made her susceptible to suicidal ideations. It has taken me most of my adult life to come to terms with what happened to her.

And now as I get older, I see the youth of my community and families being affected by suicide. And it’s breaking my heart. This is what has made me lose sleep because we shouldn’t be losing anyone to this illness. Though I may have lost my mom to it, I promised myself and I promised God that I would never make the same decision.

Shortly after mom passed away, my Aunt Grace said she had a dream of her. Though Grace did say she had many dreams of her, this is one that stood out to her because of what was said.

Grace said that she was sitting on a park bench, under a tree. The day was sunny and she was enjoying herself as she sat there, Grace heard my mom’s voice. She didn’t see her face she only heard her voice and that’s when she saw my mom place her hand on Grace's knee. My mom said “I wish I had tried harder.”

Years later, Aunt Sandy, who eventually became my mom as well, had a dream of Mom. My mom came to Sandy in a dream and thanked her for taking good care of her kids.

***********************************

Because of these experiences, I know without a doubt that suicide, as hard as it might be to talk about, is something that NEEDS to be discussed. This issue is taking over homes of everyone susceptible to the promptings of the media and pop culture. Social media now has such an influence over our news feeds with constant/incessant posts of ridiculous ideals of perfection.

These ideas turn the hearts of our children, nieces, nephews, friends, aunts, uncles, cousins, moms, and dads. It has the ability to diminish our worth if we allow it. If we’re not careful, our kids become susceptible to the whisperings of an unholy and unrighteous influence that tells them they’re not good enough. It can do the same to even the adults and these influences are permeating our homes when we don’t watch out for the signs and issues.

There is no blame to place; we’re all in this together. If we want to change, we can. We can collectively join and change the ideology and rewrite the narrative for our youth. We can become a beacon of light, truth, and hope for our friends and family that suffer from an illness that would compromise their capacity to make a better choice than to commit suicide.

We can light the way for them as a simple reminder that they’re not alone, and as a way to pay tribute to my mom. I wanted to start the discussion that suicide only leaves those of us who love those who leave with regret that we didn’t do enough.

This is something we all can do. Say out loud that someone, even if it’s you, needs help. If there is someone in your life that you would like to send a message of hope, love, and light to then reach out to me.

This is "Light."

It’s an initiative that I’ve thought deeply about.

In the last year and a half, I’ve had struggles in my own life that have led me to the conclusion that I need to start this conversation.

My own daughter has had struggles with the same issues of insecurity and ultimately admitted to me that she has wanted to harm herself.

I couldn’t imagine my life without Bianca.

The truth is, I haven’t been a "Blue Ribbon" mom to her. I do all I can to be a better parent to her now than I was when she was a baby. Back then, I took our time together for granted, and I spent time and energy in pursuit of a career that took me away from her.

If I had I lost Bianca to suicide, the devastation that I would feel to lose my only daughter would crush me. I was a child when I lost my mom, and the best I could do was sing her a song every night, I thought she needed that. Now that I'm grown, I have more resources and I want to be there if someone were to struggle in the same way, even if my initiative gives them one more day to think about how influential they could be if they gave the REST OF US...ONE. MORE. DAY. We may be able to keep them for far longer so they can accomplish their purpose.

In memory of my Mother and because I COULD have lost my baby girl to this epidemic, I have to start something, somewhere, even if it's just me talking about it, for now. My faith and my heart is forcing me to forge ahead without the fears that have held me back.

I don’t want to lose one more person to suicide.

I don't want devastation to continue to define someone's future. I want to be the change I would like to see in the world around me. For as long as I live my life, I will dedicate my additional time to making every effort to expand the reach of this initiative. Please look out for more information on how you can help make a difference. #LiveWithLight #OneMoreDay