The world is complex.
More so, than any of us, as humans, can ever imagine. Or, when we do it seems heartbreaking.
My heart fractures again for different reasons at different times. I handle it in the ways that I have dealt with tough situations no one wants to deal with for years. Nothing hurts more than the fact my son, Hayes, lost his best friend.
Just because I lost one child doesn’t mean I stop being a mom to my other.
And it’s hard.
As I have dealt with health issues from side effects with medication and John has dealt with paperwork regarding our daughter’s death, we are still parents.
As John has arranged all the parts for the second phase of Corrie’s garden and I have started figuring out school next year, we are still parents.
Hayes asked me if I had lost him, would I feel the same.
This question broke my heart. I said, “Please don’t make me imagine ever losing you.”
Our communities of faith, school, friends and family have showered us with love. They have showered Hayes with gifts, offers of play, a parade, and a birthday party.
John, Hayes and I are three people mourning the death of a girl who, to us and many, shined the kind of spotlight Broadway producers always desired. In my beliefs, dreams and memories, Corrie still shines that light.
How is Hayes?
Like John and I, he grieves in his own ways. A lot of days he does not want to go to camp. He has different reasons.
His biggest reasons why he wants to avoid camp is his attachment to the Rapunzel Tangled series on Disney Plus, and the memories the place produces of Corrie.
Hayes is far more complex than others realize. His diagnosis is a small part of him. His mind and soul feel deeply. When he tells a story from any imaginary place, he is communicating something real and deep.
When he would say to the other kids before Corrie died: “I guess I got to return to Narnia,” he meant I am going to a place in my mind where your insults do not apply.
Disney’s Rapunzel series is the same, only every connection is to his sister and how he understands the world.
Now I was never the marker board schedule mom.
I am the hide in the hallway, make a witch laugh, and run past his room mom.
One of the most important things I did with Hayes was actually listen to what he said about the Tangled series, and we stopped and intrepreted each part.
He said, “She rescued me from the tower.”
He explained that Corrie got him out of his imagination, helped him understand other kids and defended him when she felt others picked on him too much. She was also blunt with him about if something “is not real.”
Hayes said, “Before I lost my hair …”
(Rapunzel loses her hair at the end of the movie.)
He means: “Before I lost Corrie …”
When he talks about his long hair, he means Corrie and her hair.
When he said, “Her hair has returned.”
(In the Tangled series, Rapunzel’s hair returns after mysterious black rocks appear.)
Hayes means there are times when he feels Corrie’s spirit or he wants her to return.
Siblings are sometimes referred to as “the forgotten mourners” when the family loses a member. I have tried to show Hayes in different ways how he is just as important to me.
Depending on the day and what I’m doing, I also need to listen to my son’s stories, so I can help with his understanding and translation.
In the time of Coronavirus when parents fear either sending their children back to school or want kids to attend school five days a week:
We can all want normalcy. Even if it is fake.
I am still working through the guilt over my daughter’s death. Over my puppy’s death. And I cannot give my son a promise of normalcy.
I can still listen.
I can still hold him.
After all, she loved him more than anyone in this world.
I still love him for him.
Words and photos by Rebecca T. Dickinson
Corrie's Season 