All That Shimmers is Gold

Dear Journal,

April is undoubtedly the most difficult month for me, still, after 10 years. . . I sometimes wonder if that is why my son was born on April 15, 2007, the very day my friend died seven years earlier.

I was 13 years old, in eighth grade, and it was my first experience losing a friend. Although it was not my first experience with death, it was this loss that had the most impact on me 'till that point and since. I had experienced death in my family with grandparents, but that all sat well with me; it seemed like what was "supposed" to happen. You get old and then you die. That's life. Sad, but that's how it goes. That was order. Perhaps it is the Obsessive Compulsive Disorder I have always struggled with, but when that order was interrupted my life spun out of control and still spins 10 years later.

Christopher Anthony Hinckley died at age fourteen on April 15, 2000. He suffered a brain aneurysm. I found out from my very best friend, Michelle. It happened on a Saturday morning and as she was his "girlfriend" she was one of the first to know. She called me immediately and said, "Chris is in the hospital." Knowing Chris' usual Saturday activity, I assumed what she was going to tell me: "Did Chris get in a fight with some "fruitbooters" at the skate park again?" She explained that it was much more serious and that he was at the hospital and unresponsive. More details came through the weekend. On Monday we all went to school as usual, met in the usual spot before classes started. But, we were minus one and it couldn't be ignored. We all stood around in silence, not knowing what to say. The only purpose going to school that day served was to keep us from driving our families crazy at home pacing back and forth waiting for the phone to ring. Instead we were at school, not listening to a single word the teacher's said and constantly asking to use the bathroom or get a drink of water just to keep from sitting there with our minds for company. It was like that for everyone in our "group." In fact, nearly our entire group was ll in the same french class. There were only twelve of us in the class, so it was pretty obvious that we weren't focused. Our teacher got frustrated at not being able to get anything through to us and made us all go for a walk. That was the first time I think we had laughed in three days, and I still laugh thinking about it. That poor little old lady trying so hard to teach us and then taking the twelve of us for a walk. It felt like when you're at church and you act up in sacrament meeting and so your mom has to take you out in the halls for "a walk." I took the bus home from school and saw a friend in her mom's car behind the bus. I didn't think anything of it until I was about a block down the road and I saw her jump out and run to someone else and hug them crying. I naively hoped that those tears were happy tears and that the hug was in excitement that Chris had regained consciousness. I ran home as fast as I could to call Michelle. Her mom answered and asked me to give the phone to my mom. I handed the phone to my mom and got very scared. i didn't want to listen to what they were saying, so I backed up about 10 steps until I was standing in the doorway of my mom's room. My mom was completely unexpressive while on the phone and I had no clue what was going on. I couldn't even guess. She said very little and I couldn't conclude anything from it. When she hung up the phone she looked at me for a second, still unexpressive, and then I saw tears forming. I understood that she had no idea how to tell me that Chris was dead. I took a deep breath and just said, "Okay," as if she had told me verbally. I then went to my room and sat in silence and cried for hours. My mind literally couldn't grasp it. I was crying both out of sadness and frustration because I simply couldn't grasp it. It wasn't the order. He couldn't have died because that just isn't the order of things. Our "group" spent the next day at Michelle's  house. We got some more details on how exactly everything had gone from our friend Westley who was with him before and during the aneurysm. We all cried for a little bit until Brian turned to me and said, "Come on Melissa. Say something funny." Yes, that's right, I used to be funny and not bitter and cynical. I just shook my head "no" and said, "If I did it wouldn't be funny." Nothing seemed funny anymore. It felt like nothing would ever be funny again. The next day, Wednesday, we all went back to school, but that was pointless. We all spent the entire day in the counselors office where she made us all squeeze tennis balls. I thought it was silly, but it seemed to help some one of our friends, at least. If I recall correctly, he ended up throwing the tennis ball at the wall, so maybe it didn't actually help him. The funeral was the next day and was just plain awful all around. The service lasted a million years. And it was open casket, which I think is terrible. I don't think anyone should do viewings. And they did the closing of the casket there in front of everyone that came, which I think should be a private family moment. . . but that's just me. My friend, Ryan was the last of our friends at the casket after we had all been asked to be seated. He just stood there. It was so sad. He couldn't leave. I went up to stand next to him and help him leave. It was so hard. Ryan and I were the last of his friends there before closing the casket and I still dream about that moment. It was terrible. Then the grave site service was another million years. The worst part was that they had all of us throw a handful of dirt into the ground after he had lowered his casket. I guess that helps some people, but I still have nightmares about it. I did not want to be any part of burying my friend. It was the worst experience of my life. For years after that every once in a while it just got to be more than I could handle. I would come home from school and go up to my room and just cry all afternoon.

When I got my license I would visit his grave often. It was during one of these visits that I finally was able to control my issues with "order." I realized that the problem with my order of things was that it consisted of time. So after that realization I stopped looking at life as time. I stopped assuming that we'd all be here for 80+years. I stopped looking at a lifetime as a certain amount of time and simply looked at it as simply life. We complicate things so much in life by our perspectives. If we eliminate time from life's perspective what could we accomplish. How many times have I not done something because I said I didn't have time? Or that takes too long? Or I'm not sure I'll get it done in time? If you took time out of all those statements, there wouldn't be any statements and then we'd all just move forward with whatever the task was.

This has also helped me with all the many deaths I have dealt with since then. So often you hear that young people who died had their lives "cut short." But if you think about a life simply as a life and not an amount of time then it is easier to deal with. Delight in the fact that they lived. Stop thinking about what Christ "could have been." He wasn't meant to be any more than what he was. It was a part of his plan to die at age 14. There was nothing past that for him.

Since Chris's death I have experienced many more deaths of friends and family members. Some have been very tragic. But, I've been able to handle it well. I can handle not only because of my knowledge of God's Plan of Salvation, but because I know that there was nothing left here for them after what they accomplished with their life. Their work here was done and they moved on.

Chris's life was not cut short. He lived the life he was here on earth to live. I miss him dearly and think of him more often than not. And I would rather have him here. But I understand now that life should not be measured by time, but by action. What actions am I choosing in my life? Am I choosing not to do certain things because I think I don't have time? or because something takes too much time? Just do it! And if I get interupted by life (babies, work, chores, etc. . .) simply switch gears. Even if my tasks are interupted, at least I have started something. At least I have done something. I made it my personal goal to not be a slave to the clock. I have strayed somewhat from that when my schedule started revolving around that of my husband and my children. But, I hope to make it my goal again to not say to myself that I don't have time to call my little sister because my child might wake up from their nap any minute now. So what? I'll call my sister, and if my kid wakes up I'll care for her. Then at least I have done a little. At least I have called her and made some connection, even if it was short. I hope to never again say, "I don't have time to read my scriptures or pray." Even if I simply open my scriptures, read one verse and have to put it down, at least I have done something. I hope to never again say that I don't have time for visiting teaching. Even if I have other tasks or chores to do that keep me from visiting teaching, I can still go and be there for my sisters and if something else (children) require my having to leave, then at least I made the contact, even if only for 5 minutes.

Well, what it all comes down to basically is if I say that I couldn't get to something because I didn't have time and then I die tomorrow, well, then I'll really never get to it. So, basically I am asking myself, What am I doing instead of whatever it is I say I don't have time to do?