School had offered that Shannon take all of December to be home. She could work through Dan’s passing and process the grief. Christmas break was coming and to us adults it all made sense. Shannon had other plans.
Shan and I had our goodbye visit with Danny in person and her reverence at 5 was beautiful. She rolled with the punches, responded well to the unexpected, and made her needs known: Oliver came with us. After that day though, Shannon knew what she needed better than anyone else and that was to go back to school.
Initially I was thrown. Everything I had planned with her school and counselors: home was what we needed. But then as we lived through the process, I admitted to my sisters that we were home to heal together, but I was just sitting on the couch staring and Shannon was just passing the time best she could. Both of us in PJs and her surviving on snacks because I didn’t want to eat and had no idea what to tell people to bring who were offering. Deep down I sorta knew: she would be happier at school. Routine, her teachers make Shannon’s whole body light up when she sees them, and she loved her friends so much – these truths would meet her needs.
When she had met with the hospital staff who guided this process, they said to me it is clear St. Mary’s is her happy place. I think the goal should be “get her back to the arms of those teachers”. During this process of Danny being so sick over these last 6 months, when Shan would have to go with my parents or my sisters the line we used as a family: “It is OK to go with them Shannon, they love you.” It was this way of calming the situation and became the language my family and I used regularly. When I finally broke down with the hundredth question of “when can I go back to school” and admitted to my persistent girl I was thinking about it – she knew how to convince me. Shannon said “Mom, you don’t have to worry – my teachers love me…. Mrs. Southworth loves me and I can go with them.”
The funny part is when I revisit the timeline and my texts now, I see how Shannon verbalized our need – but these teachers and community had become a safe place for us both. My little family of three – plus two dogs – have been blessed with incredible groups of people who have seen us through so much and supported us in ways I will never be able to repay (in Dan’s passing I thought I will finally get out those thank you notes … and realized now, I will never be able to express ALL the ways we have been supported). However, there is sometimes an ease with newer friends. St. Mary’s had a sense of our story, but not not all the details. In Dan’s passing that changed and it felt easier to talk about the present and our current needs/fears/worries with folks that had not lived through all the baggage. And ya’ll know me – I laid my heart out on the line 110%. It is who I am…. so when Jenn (Southworth), her teacher, said how can I help I expressed all my fears: making these sweet kids learn about death, having to get out of bed on time and make a lunch, or being seen in public. When other moms and teachers reached out I was able to say how sad I was and how much harder this was than I expected. When I said my apologies that our story meant their sweet kids were gonna have to talk about what happens at the end of life they responded with gratitude for letting them in or the sharing of their own stories. Death isn’t unique to us and I suddenly had a whole new friend group making me feel normal and providing suggestions on how to deal with all of this (spoiler alert: a lot of grace, prayer, going slow…. and leaning on them).
We gave it sometime, but the answer never changed for Shannon:I want to be back at school and the counselors agreed. The goal of returning her to school moved up by 3 weeks and I caved – we would meet with her teacher after school one afternoon and see how it felt.
To go that afternoon I had to PUSH myself. I made a timer for when I would have to get off the couch. I gave myself a lot of time so I did not have to rush or get frustrated with our 100th cartwheel in the process. We said extra good byes to Oliver – who had grown quite comfy with all of us being couch dwellers. I texted some of the other teachers who had reached that we would be coming by and try to say hello to them too. And I fought my aching stomach and nausea. We could do this and honestly – I was truly able to because whenever I looked at Shannon, she was so darn happy – it gave a lot of strength. Her whole life I had bought things and tried to have experiences to see her sweet person excited and happy – this energy was tenfold and it truly did push me through my fear.
We pulled in and parked as pick-up was wrapping up. She could see her little world from the car window and she was desperate to get out and join them. But we had to take this one step at a time and walking to the school in front of all the parents in carpool was not possible – yes I had finally gotten ready, but being on parade was not an option. Shan was patient with me, while I learned the reality of this return needing to happen was becoming clear immediately. As we began our little walk into school, one of her favorite teachers saw her and I, gifting us the best hugs. Hugs we both were blessed with again at Danny’s funeral and many times since. My fear washed away a bit. We met up with Shan’s current teacher team and headed inside – seeing more friends and teachers as we went and Shannon was beaming. Even while she was quiet – I saw this peace rise over her. She was home. She had made it back.
The day I had to pick Shannon up from school to take her for our good bye visit, I texted back and forth with Jenn (Mrs. Southworth). The greatest fear I had in that initial moment shocked me. I was going to say good bye to Danny – we had been doing life since we were both 20, we had fought off this moment, we had struggled, and we had loved – you would think my distraction was what to say, what it would feel like. Parenthood changes you: my fear was the moment I pick her up from school – her happy and safe place – she would never be the same. I was watching the clock tick down to both pick up time and on her innocence being broken. She would eventually return to that classroom, but completely changed. How would it change her? Would my sweet girl who cartwheels and skips everywhere she goes in those hallways still have that joy? Jenn totally understood – the confidence that I needed to keep walking in this chapter of motherhood. Maybe this was my own safe space too.
Sitting in Jenn’s classroom that afternoon we discussed coming back. Shan was quiet, but clearly content. She had a confidence that I realized I don’t know that much about. This is her own little world that I only get glimpses into. Even though I held the decision of Shan’s schedule – this was Shannon’s world. A place I can visit and enjoy, but a place she has created. Each day she builds the relationships, contributes to the environment and this is her world, right where she needs to be. Then Jenn turned her attention to me and shared a few important perspectives with me that will forever live in my heart. For the first time I believed this would eventually all feel okay. On this day Shannon and I returned to St Mary’s to find out if we could begin the journey back to our lives and we learned we would begin a journey of hope into a new chapter.
Shannon returned that next day and after making it clear she did not want anyone to know about what she had been through – once she got in the room it all changed. She asked Jenn to share with the class about her dad and they read a book. Those kiddos met Shan right where she was – loving on her, offering hugs, and being sure to explain to other kids why she was allowed to carry a little purse and worry stones. Here I was wondering how Shan would fair, what mayhem I was sending to Jenn with kids ability to ask some crazy questions. Instead they took it in stride and gave Shan a type of support only possible kiddo to kiddo.
Life is going to bring you different seasons, but with the gift of friends – you will always be able to keep walking in hope. Thank you St. Mary’s for being the hope of this year and many years to come. And as my dad said on Shannon’s graduation day: “it is nice to see the community that healed you, Jac”.
And Shannon, thank you for letting me into your world! You are right, going back to the place we are both loved is exactly what we needed.
Thank you so much for reading and remember to make it a great day!
Jackie
Have A Little Faith in We 