Little Reminders & The “What ifs”

The week before Halloween, I found myself missing Rylie a little more than usual.  It was a busy week, so I was more tired than usual. Lack of sleep always affects how I cope, but it was also just a week full of activities that Rylie would have enjoyed.  A week full of talking about her and what she loved. A week full of moments when I wish I could have had her by my side. And a week with several “what if” moments.

These moments kicked into high gear while we were hosting a massive Halloween Store designed to match free costumes up with deserving kids and families.  Rylie loved Halloween and the joy that comes with dressing up. Watching hundreds of kids and parents rifle through piles of costumes and hearing the giggles and shouts of glee when they found what they were looking for was a gift.  It was joyful. It was bittersweet.  

It was a moment where I could picture how Rylie would have been, should have been. I could imagine her prancing around, in full costume, helping kids and their families find their perfect match.  I could imagine her challenging us, not to just set up a store for families, but to create an experience. I’m sure she would have wanted us to include a haunted house. She probably would have pushed us to have the kids wear their costumes on the way out in order to retrieve a piece of candy.  

Later in the week, Ziggy and I attended a Halloween party.  It was 80s themed and I chose to go with the 80s prom look. Anyone that knows me, knows that I have pretty much one look.  Hair and make-up aren’t my forte. So when faced with the challenge of doing my hair and make-up for 80s prom, the struggle was real.  I attempted to channel my inner Rylie and consult Pinterest for tips and techniques.  

I set out to tease my hair and use unfathomable amounts of Aquanet, only to realize that I don’t own a comb.  How that is possible, I’m still not sure, but it is a fact nonetheless. Tanner and Ziggy both use their hands to style their hair, and I only have a wide toothed comb that I use in the shower.  

That’s when it hit me.  Rylie would have had plenty of combs, along with various styling tools and all of the make-up brushes.  I went into the kid’s bathroom with the hope that I might find a rogue comb left behind from Rylie’s supplies, to no avail.  I sat in front of the cabinets under my sink, searching in vain, and felt myself crumple a bit. I longed for Rylie to be there.  To laugh at my terrible attempts at styling. To tease me and then take over the process. 

So I paused for a moment, leaned my head against the frame of the cabinet, let some tears well up and missed her.  

Thankfully, my crazy hair has a slight 80s feel to it anyway.  So I was able to make it work, kind of. Then I set about to do my make-up.  Again, I stumbled.  

I wear the same color eyeshadow, every day.  I apply it in the same way, every day. It’s been the same way, pretty much since I started wearing make-up (minus the really bad 90s white eyeliner phase), every day.  

I’d realized earlier in the day that I didn’t have any 80s colors in my eye shadow palette, so I stopped at the store.  As I perused the aisles, I thought back to Rylie’s cheap, but comprehensive, collection of eyeshadow. She would have had the perfect blue and pink.  Instead, I bought a small palette with some pink, because it was somewhat affordable and slightly more practical. I figured I might be able to wear again in a less obnoxious way.  

When I set out to do my eyes, the tears welled up, threatening to spill over which would have totally ruined the look.  Again, I thought of Rylie and how she’d laugh at me. I’m sure she would have grabbed the make-up brushes from my hand and insisted on doing it “right”.  She definitely would have made sure that blue eyeshadow was included.  

The following evening, Ziggy and I had a charity event that required us to dress in style and look like real adults.  It’s been a while since I’ve “dressed up” and I went through a minimalist cleaning spree within the last year, which means the pickings were quite slim.  A few hours before we were to head out, I decided I should verify that the dress I remembered having was actually in my closet. Good thing I checked when I did because apparently the dress didn’t make the minimalist cut!

Needless to say, that required a trip to the store and and some serious crossed fingers. Shopping is one of those things that has changed drastically for me in the last few years.  It’s become something I generally try to avoid.  

Rylie used to be my shopping buddy.  She never held back an opinion, and often encouraged me to break out of my comfort zone, trying on something a little brighter, or sassier than I would normally go for.  I find that I miss her even more when I’m prowling the racks for the perfect anything. 

It was hard for me to flip through the racks, pull out some options, and lug them into the dressing room with out Rylie.  There were definitely a few dresses that would have brought out her giggle and a smart aleck comment or two! Lucky for me, the fashion stars aligned and I found a simple black dress that fit all my criteria:  semi-warm, basic and could be dressed up or down, and would be a good addition to my minimalistic(ish) wardrobe. Although it wasn’t bright colored or out of my comfort zone, I think Rylie would have approved.

Once the outfit and corresponding accessories were procured, I headed home to get ready for the event which included a private showing of a documentary created by UC Health about the remarkable recovery of one of their patients that had been massively burned.

This event, while inspirational, brought with it many challenges.  For one, since Rylie’s death, there are certain societal norms that I struggle with more than ever – one of them is small talk.  While I love interacting with people, I long for true connection not surface level pleasantries. I find many times at events like this, it’s full of opportunities to talk, but to really say nothing at all. Sometimes it’s because these exchanges include questions about how many kids you have, or what you do for a living.  For us, these questions are complicated. I don’t know that there’s a solution for it, but it’s definitely one of those “motions” of life that I have a harder time “going through”.  

The documentary was extremely well done and captured a love so powerful that it has overcome all odds.  I’m a sucker for a good inspirational story, but it was painful too. It brought up so many “what ifs”.  

As I watched images from the hospital room and all of the machines used to keep pain in check and patients alive, I found myself transported back in time.  I could picture our hospital room. I could hear the beeps of the machines working so hard to keep Rylie alive and comfortable. Meanwhile, I still heard snippets of the story playing on the screen – weighing the odds and posing questions about quality of life.  

Tears poured down my face.  I felt those questions from our past shower down on me, followed by a pelting of sneaky what if questions that sometimes haunt me.  What if… What if… we’d tried something else? What if… we gave up too soon? What if… we didn’t give Rylie’s strong spirit enough time to fight back?  What if… she’d come back to us and hated the constant fight?  

I continued to watch the documentary, blotting up tears, jiggling my ankle in an effort to feel some sense of control, and squeezing Ziggy’s hand.  I was swept into their story. I was reminded of what it means to love so deeply. To love someone so much that you’re willing to do whatever it takes.  I was reminded that sometimes the most loving thing you can do is fight alongside. And other times, the most loving thing you can do is let go.