Hi. I'm Ashley Hayball.
By all accounts, I led a fairly typical life up until 2022.
I married a wonderful man in 2004. We had 2 splendid kids. I taught school and felt strongly it was my God-given purpose.
Then cancer arrived...fast & furious.
Geoff- my husband- was dealt a crap hand and diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer on June 8, 2022. He would be dead 65 days later, after the bravest & most humble acceptance of 4 rounds of horrific chemotherapy.
The bubble of invincibility that was our life simply vanished. I was terrified. Alone. And had never felt more hopeless.
I felt immediately sliced in half and sent back into the world. I had absolutely no idea how to survive a loss that resembled a massive tear in the fabric of the universe.
So...I went in search of a safety net.
That net resembled other women rowing the same crappy boat I was. Women thrust into solo parenting. Women widowed & figuring it out. Women who would eventually teach me to look for light in the cracks. Teach me to let go of who I used to be because she died, too.
Thank God for Instagram. Those first months are still a complete fog. I have very spotty memories of the day to day...likely a protective veil because really- the pain is so huge it's enough to consume you whole. But I somehow built a web of women who were brushing their teeth, feeding their children, stocking the fridge and living through the unimaginable. They saved me in those early days, and I'm not sure I ever properly thanked them.
I instinctively knew in those raw, early days what I needed to survive.
But I didn't. Not really.
As I glance over my shoulder- 15 months later- I can so clearly see the dots connect. It's impossible to know it when all you are doing is focusing on the next breath. The next minute. The next decision.
Time, gobs of faith, and a handful of women who were strangers months prior...they saved me. I'd like to think we saved each other through the hundreds of desperate text messages and tear-soaked phone calls. I believe now that loneliness is the hardest emotion to sit with. I can't tell you how many times I felt like the only woman in the world shouldering a life I never asked for. These women blurred the lines of loneliness. Knowing others were out in this vast ocean, rowing the same damn boat...it was morbidly comforting.
15 months later, and it's still morbidly comforting.
So...I am still Ashley Hayball. But I am no longer hopeless, alone, or terrified. My husband's death is proving to be the catalyst of my lifetime, and I refuse to lay down & surrender to my feelings.
Because I am not my feelings.
It is my hope to use what has happened to my children & me to help others...because I'm pretty sure that's the living definition of healing. Writing has always been my jam, and it's been a tool I've used almost every day to wade through gut-wrenching emotions to realize this:
I love who I am becoming. I just hate the cost of admission.
Keep going.
23 comments
As I have followed you on your journey, I have learned so much about the grieving process, I’ve cried for you, cheered for you, and been so proud of you. You’re helping so many people- undoubtedly more than you know. You can do hard things and you show others that they/we can too. I’ve always appreciated your posts, but I appreciate them in a new way since my father passed. Keep bringing the light and love that you do, Ashley, and know that you’re loved by so many. OX (That’s how my dad signed his texts.)
Love you! We have been holding you and your family in prayer since that awful news was delivered! Your strength and vulnerability is an inspiration to many!
I have followed your IG for months it’s brutally honest, deeply moving and painful. You share and bring home the importance of sharing grief and for bravely moving forward with help from family, friends ( new and old). I because a grief educator through David Kesslers training and you provide such insight into what helps, hurts and how healing is not linear.
Thank you for this blog and for your candor. I’m praying for you- your children and for all of your futures.
Ashley, This is fabulous! You are helping others heal the same way that you have transformed, guided, and inspired students and families with your extraordinary gift for teaching. By being vulnerable, you are encouraging others to reach out and connect with people going through loss, by helping them to demonstrate empathy, patience, compassion, and most of all, love. Wishing you continued healing and happiness.
Ashley-This may be official blog post #1 but I believe it’s just another step in your journey. Your are such a gifted writer and a fabulous human being. I’m confident that someday I’ll be be buying one of your books and telling all sorts of people we went to camp together!