The Forgotten Carols

A happy Ashleigh on Christmas morning 1988.

Tonight I spent an evening with Michael McLean. Well, me and a couple of thousand other people at The Forgotten Carols. It is interesting to note that this is the 20th anniversary tour of The Forgotten Carols , just like it is Ashleigh's "20th anniversary" this year as well. I share this experience on this blog and not my other, because when I think of Michael McLean's music... I think of Ashleigh.

My first memories of Michael's music are from the early days of Ashleigh's illness. I somehow accumulated a cassette tape of Michael's songs, which I listened to in the car as Ashleigh and I drove to and from radiation therapy on a daily basis. In Ashleigh's final weeks, her home health care nurse loaned me a video tape of Michael performing some of those same songs. I watched that video every day. The final song on that tape is Together Forever during which he asks the audience to think of someone they love who was not with them, and then invites the audience to sing along to the phrase, "... we can be together forever someday..." and then with more conviction, "... we will be together forever someday...". As a young mother whose heart was breaking, and with so much uncertainty ahead of me, I bravely sang along with Michael and his audience as tears rolled down my face. Tonight at the conclusion of The Forgotten Carols, Michael sang Together Forever , and again, invited his audience to think of a loved one who wasn't with them and invited us to sing along. The words, "... we can be together forever someday..." filled the auditorium as did the spirit. My heart was touched and my eyes filled with tears, as I sang those words with conviction, because I know that they are true, "... we will be together forever one day...".

Caitlin's Thoughts

by guest blogger Caitlin Leger

Aren't these sisters beautiful!?! I am grateful to Caitlin for her willingness to share some of her feelings about her sister Ashleigh. Although they never met in this life, they are sisters, just like any other sisters who have had the opportunity to grow up together, and Caitlin and Ashleigh's time will come... I have no doubt. Thanks Caitlin for your willingness to share... I know it wasn't easy.

When my mom first asked me to write a post to go on her Ashleigh blog I was very hesitant. I first of all had not read the blog yet, and secondly felt like there was nothing I could say. I never met Ashleigh on earth and didn’t know what I could write on a post that would be of any benefit for anyone to read on her blog. My mind has however changed since I have finally read the blog. I go to college and felt like I was always busy and didn’t have time to keep up with any blogs, but just a couple days ago I decided I would start reading from the beginning, now every free moment I have, I immediately go to my last spot on the blog and read on. I regrettably decided to even read during a lecture class I was in where we had a guest speaker, and while streams rolled down my face, I just hoped that the speaker was somewhat inspirational, and my classmates may have thought I was touched by her words. I decided that immediately after I read the latest post to start writing this one because I have been so influenced by this blog, and definitely can say I feel closer to my sister than ever. Hearing all of these experiences are very new and eye opening. I have called my mom in tears every day after reading the blog, or sent text messages to her, because I can’t even imagine what a heartache my family must have been through during this time. I of course have grown up knowing I have a sister named Ashleigh who passed away of a brain tumor. I have always grown up knowing exactly who Ashleigh is, and seen pictures, videos, and heard stories now and then about her life and her experiences, but not until this blog have I heard these details which have made me have such a deeper appreciation for my parents and my brothers and all of my family because of the sorrow that they must have gone through seeing their little girl go through all that she went through. I have always felt a little…well for lack of a better term “left out” in my family because of their experiences with Ashleigh. I know that my family all knew Ashleigh and were able to be with her here on earth. I also know they had to have grown closer as they supported each other in getting through her passing away. One day very recently I expressed this feeling of being left out to my mother. She told me with all confidence that she knows that I knew and know Ashleigh too, and that she is my sister and I should always feel close to her. And though I wasn’t there to experience Ashleigh’s passing away, my role in our family is a gift. I know that my family all views me as a gift, and now after understanding that, I realize how important that role really is. I am so grateful that my family has a testimony and knows that we will be with Ashleigh again. I know that my family was able to get through, and move forward, from such a hard and sad experience because they had so much faith, and relied on the Lord. I have also been very impressed with all of my brothers and their wives in teaching their children about their Aunt Ashleigh, and I know they all know her and love her. When I was born, my mom had to go through a very long labor. My parents have always told me that it was so long because I was saying goodbye to my sister in heaven. Knowing that I have a sister waiting for me in heaven has been even more of an incentive and a goal for me to live righteously while on earth so that I know I can be with my sister Ashleigh again someday. I love my sister Ashleigh and I know she loves me. I look forward to the day when I will be able to hug her and tell her how much I love her and missed her.

Primary Children's Medical Center (part 2 "oh what a day")

This picture was taken when we went for our first consultation at LDS Hospital Radiology (Ashleigh loved that aquarium), about a week after her surgery. Radiation therapy was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do in my life. I will be writing about that in a future post.

It was at the end of November 1991 that I received an important letter in the mail from PCMC; it was Ashleigh's medical record that I had requested be sent to me. I sat down at my dining room table that evening and began to read. This six page report included Ashleigh's recent medical and social history, a detailed description of Ashleigh's surgical procedure, a pathology report, and her discharge from the hospital summary. As I read, anxiety began to overcome me, the surgical report was so overwhelming, I really didn't understand any of it. My sons were in the living room just being typical boys, goofing off and making noise. I became more and more agitated as I read because I couldn't understand the complexities of what I was reading; adding to my confusion was the noise that the boys were making in the next room, ultimately it caused me to become impatient with my sons. I realized that this wasn't the time to do this, so I put the letter away for another day. That day finally came.

I had thought about this report recently and actually came across it quite by accident. I opened the envelope and found the six page report just as I had left it nearly twenty years ago, I also found the sketch of the tumor that Ashleigh's doctor at the Layton clinic had drawn for us on August 16, 1990.

On Monday morning, August 20, Ashleigh was taken to surgery. A biopsy would be performed where pieces of the tumor would be removed and studied. The doctor was confident that it was a tumor... but gave us a little bit of hope by telling us that "it could just be an infection", but the only way we would know for sure was through the biopsy. Shortly after we were settled in a waiting room, Mike was called to the phone. The call came from surgery, just to let us know that Ashleigh was asleep and doing well and that the surgery was about to start. Mike rarely speaks of this call, I'm not sure that he has ever spoken of it to anyone but me, but just as the person on the other end of the line was finishing the call, Mike heard the distinct sound of a drill. That is a memory that he has never forgotten.

The "waiting game" can be very long, tense, stressful, frightening, and much more... I wish I could describe adequately the physical and emotional feelings that I felt at this time. I can't, but I will try. You know that bad, sick feeling that you get in your stomach when you know you've done something wrong, or you just have a bad feeling about something? It's like that... only much, much, much... MUCH worse!!! We waited, with that sick feeling in our stomachs, for the Doctor to appear. It's funny how we were so anxious to find out that everything went well... at the same time, dreading to see the Doctor, and when we finally did, the sick feeling becoming worse just at the sight of her. When Dr. Wright finally came from surgery and gave us the news, it wasn't good... it was the brainstem glioma. Of course we were devastated.

The rest of this post I will dedicate to the most significant memories I have of the five days spent at PCMC. First of all, post surgery recovery. Ashleigh was brought to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU) where she remained until Thursday, August 23, when she was able to go home. Many of our family members and friends came to visit us at the hospital. We were so blessed by the love and support that we felt during those few days.

I want to share a couple of comments that I copied from Ashleigh's and Christopher's "Family Friday" post on my other blog. This is what Alan and Marivic had to say about their visits to the hospital on the day that Ashleigh had surgery:

What Alan said: "I remember as Ashleigh’s diagnosis was in the early stages (the first couple of days) I got off work at KSL and headed up to Primary Children’s where she had undergone a biopsy. I had just missed Lesley and Mike who had been there the whole day, if not overnight, and had run home for an hour or two to freshen up while Ashleigh slept. So for a few minutes I was Ashleigh’s only family member at the hospital. She woke up and got a little fussy so I had the opportunity to hold and comfort my niece on what was surely an unpleasant day for her. She knew it was her Uncle Alan and seemed happy I was there."

What Marivic said: "Ashleigh was heavenly father’s instrument in giving me comfort and reassurance, during what must have been one of Ashleigh’s most painful time on earth. It was after her surgery. I don’t remember now, but Les and Mike must have left the hospital to go check on the boys after hours and hours of being with Ashleigh. Alan who had been holding Ashleigh had to leave too. Ashleigh whimpered and I asked the nurse if I could hold her. She told me it’s best not to move her but I could hold her hand so she would at least know I was there. I remember holding Ashleigh’s hands and whispering to her. I remember thinking she was mostly unconscious until she grasped my hand so tightly as if to tell me not to leave her. I sat there whispering to her, telling her how much we all loved her. I told her I think Christopher knows she has an owie and if he is allowed to I’m sure he will be there for her, and if he drops by to make sure to tell him his Mommy said Hi. I remember crying for her and Christopher but there was a reassuring calmness on Ashleigh’s face and I felt peace. It seemed as she pressed my hand that she was comforting me instead of me comforting her. Then Lesley came, and as soon as she spoke, Ashleigh relaxed her hold on my hand. She knew her Mommy was back."

The PICU is a big, long room with beds lining both sides. There was a wall behind us and curtains in between the beds for privacy. I remember holding Ashleigh in my arms as I sat on a chair next to her bed. The two of us were alone at that moment and she clung to me as if she never wanted to let go. An 18 month-old girl was being brought to the bed across from Ashleigh, she had just had surgery to remove a brain tumor... and it was successful. There I sat, all alone, holding my frightened and traumatized daughter, and watched the "celebration" of another family that was taking place just a few feet from me. I wanted that to be us. But it wasn't.

I mentioned in my August 16 post that my mother-in-law had had surgery on the day we found out about Ashleigh's tumor. My father-in-law didn't want to tell her about Ashleigh until my mother-in-law was home from the hospital. Bonnie (my MIL) is devoted to her family, and somewhat worrisome about all of our well being. I remember her coming to PCMC, barely able to walk herself after her surgery, and the strength and courage that she exhibited in a positive way, I will always appreciate it.

My brother-in-law Tony came to the hospital as well. I remember standing outside the front doors of PCMC when he gave me a hug. That hug was so tight that it hurt, but I recognized that Tony was hurting, and that hug brought much needed comfort to us both.

Besides the visits from our family and friends, many people sent kind cards and gifts. All of it was appreciated. Our friends the Websters came to visit, Janet who was an excellent seamstress had made Ashleigh a darling outfit which she wore home from the hospital.

One afternoon as I sat with Ashleigh in the hospital, she looked at me and sighed as she said, "ooohhhh, what a day." My precious, little 3-year-old daughter had already experienced some of life's most painful trials. Even now, twenty years later, occasionally one of us will say, "what a day" and the other knows exactly what those words are in reference to.

We took Ashleigh home on Thursday, August 23. It was good to have her at home, back with her mommy and daddy and her boys where she belonged. Our journey was just beginning.

Primary Children's Medical Center (part 1)

PCMC is a little world within a world. There are many dedicated medical personnel who work there, as well as volunteers who try to bring some peace and comfort into the lives of the patients and their families. One of the volunteers that came to visit Ashleigh a day or two following surgery, brought this cat along to provide a little comfort. I felt a little sad when I chose this picture to post. On all of the previous posts the pictures I've shared have shown our happy girl... she looks so weary here. I can only imagine what must have been going through her mind at this point in time.

Many people have come into our lives since Ashleigh's death... people who didn't have the opportunity to know Ashleigh in this life. She has a sister, sisters-in-law, nephews and nieces, cousins, and a couple of aunts and an uncle who have all become a part of our lives, as well as new acquaintances we've made through the years.

I have often shared Ashleigh's story verbally... but this has been my first attempt at writing it. Some of the experiences are vibrant in my mind... others are not. I mentioned in one of the first posts on this blog, that I made a video tape "journal" of sorts shortly before Ashleigh died. I had never watched that tape until recently. As I watched and listened, I was reminded of several things that I had forgotten... I also regretted that I hadn't shared more experiences.

Our experience at PCMC is one that I don't remember every single detail perfectly, but I do remember it well. We did receive the phone call from PCMC that Thursday evening August 16, just as the doctor told us we would, we were told that we were to be at PCMC the following Sunday morning August 19.

To say that we were in a state of shock for the following few days would be putting it mildly. Our lives were changed immediately, and would continue to change with each bit of information we received.

Our phone didn't stop ringing and many people came over to our home. Although I appreciated all of the love and support we received, at times it was overwhelming and a bit wearisome, especially when answering peoples inquiries and telling the same story over and over. At one point our friends the Welches, loaned us their answering machine which became very helpful. This was a time when our conveniences of today such as email, texting, facebook, and blogging would have been very helpful. Nonetheless, we truly appreciated the outpouring of love we received. We needed it.

On Friday, August 17, I drove back to St. Benedict's Hospital to pick up Ashleigh's MRI results which we were to take with us to PCMC. It was a strange feeling, holding that over sized envelope in my hands, knowing that significant information concerning Ashleigh's future was literally in the palm of my hands. It would have been nice to simply destroy the contents of that envelope, as if doing so would make all of the bad stuff disappear... unfortunately it wasn't that easy.

We reported to PCMC on Sunday morning as we had been directed; my parents accompanied us. Ashleigh was admitted as a patient and we were shown to the room where she would stay.

It was a surreal experience being there at PCMC. It hadn't even been 72 hours since we were told that Ashleigh had a tumor, since then our lives had been turned completly upside down. As we waited in Ashleigh's room for the Neurosurgeon to come see us, my heart was very, very heavy and my stomach was in knots. This was the scariest, most frightening experience of my entire life.

We've all seen the movies... those scenes where the doctors sit at a big, fancy desk with some poor soul sitting across from them, and they break the bad news... gently. It wasn't that way at all. Suddenly the doctor; Dr. Wright, came into the room... with her entourage. I don't remember how many were with her, but she had a few others in tow. She introduced herself and we all stood around the room (no fancy desk) as she took the MRI pictures from the envelope and held them up to the light. She started to explain to us about this tumor, it was called a brain stem glioma (I just spell checked glioma... the options the computer gave me were gloom and gloomy... how appropriate), you see, the tumor grows in the brain stem. It was impossible to operate in the brain stem, maybe near it, or on it (not good chances there either), but not in it. She continued to explain that Ashleigh could have radiation therapy, if we chose to do that (she repeatedly said, "if you choose", OF COURSE WE CHOSE). Radiation would shrink the tumor... but in a year or two the tumor would come back. My question to her was, "and then we do radiation again?" At this point the harsh reality was made fact as she told me, "no... you can't do radiation again." Basically what she was telling me, and did tell me, was that the tumor would indeed grow back and that there was nothing we could do.

In that instant, it seemed as if it was just me and the doctor alone in the room... facing each other. Everyone else was still there... but it was like an unbelievable dream and they were all a part of it. Although I was looking the doctor directly in the eyes, I could see my mom sitting on a small sofa directly under the window, with Ashleigh at her side. At the same time I saw Mike's reaction as he turned his back, and my dad's arms went around him, I knew Mike was crying, dad was saying something to him... I don't know what. And me... I stood there and faced the doctor... and I didn't shed a tear.

She explained, that on Monday morning Ashleigh would go into surgery and a biopsy would be performed. This would simply verify that everything she had just told us was in fact... the truth.

That Sunday was one of the longest days of my life. We wandered the hospital with Ashleigh, there was a playroom that she enjoyed, and we spent time in her room. She was still dressed in her own clothes, at this point she didn't look like a "patient".

I remember walking the halls of the hospital with my mom when we saw a huge whiteboard with patients names written on it. There was Ashleigh's name; it was surreal seeing it there. I loved how we spelled her name, it was beautiful. I remember as we stood there, that I made a comment to my mom about our choice in how we would spell Ashleigh's name when she was born, and that I never imagined seeing it on a whiteboard in PCMC, in the circumstances we were in now.

I don't remember when my parents left, but they would return to be with us the next morning. Mike and I weren't prepared for an overnight stay in the hospital, we really hadn't known what to expect when we left home that morning. When bedtime came, Ashleigh was able to put on a hospital gown and get cozily into her bed, while I laid next to her and Mike settled down on a chair... both of us fully dressed. It would be a long and uncomfortable night. It wasn't until Monday afternoon that we were able to go home (briefly) to shower, change, see our boys, and then go back to the hospital.

Thank You Friends

This is Ashleigh and the boys in the spring of 1989. She loved and still loves "my boys" as she always called them.

I have mentioned previously on this blog that I debated for a long, long time about doing it. I know that writing Ashleigh's story is definitely a good thing, but, my concern was... doing it so publicly, is that a good thing? Yet, I continue to type away, and when I come to the point where I have to click on "publish post"... I do.

I appreciate the comments that I have received from my friends and family. Not just in the comment section, but the ones I have received through e-mails, facebook, notes, and even comments made to me personally. These kind words tell me that this is a "good thing" and that I should continue.

I wish I had unlimited time to write on this blog... but I don't. I am busy just like everyone else and blogging is just one of the things I enjoy to do in my "down time". I am currently writing a post about our experiences at Primary Children's Medical Center, and I have a few other posts already on the schedule as well, with more to come. I have also asked five people to be "guest bloggers" on this blog, three of them are "Ashleigh's boys" who have each consented to share their memories of their little sister, and equally as important, the impact this experience has had in their lives. I am really looking forward to reading what they have to share. The other two are Ashleigh's daddy (who enjoys reading both of my blogs, but doesn't comment or write, but has consented to do so) and Ashleigh's sister Caitlin. Although Caitlin was born 18 months (to the day) after Ashleigh died, she knows and loves her sister.

So off to work I go, and hopefully I will get a little "down time" later. We'll see.

I'm Trying To Be Like Jesus

This picture was taken at my parents home on Thanksgiving Day 1990. This is less than one month after Ashleigh completed radiation therapy. She is a happy and normal three-year-old. Every symptom she had, with the exception of her eye turning in, had completely disappeared at this point. This is the picture that I refer to in this post.

The primary program has always been one of my favorite sacrament meetings of the year. I love seeing so many children standing at the front of the chapel, singing and saying their parts for the ward members, their parents, and of course visiting grandparents. It is especially enjoyable to watch the little three-year-old sunbeams, they are usually more concerned with being able to see their moms and dads, and waving at them, than participating in what is going on. The primary program can definitely touch my heart as well as my funny bone.

Each January when the new primary year begins, it is always a bonus when there is a three-year-old in the family ready to start going to the sunbeam class. In January of 1991 Ashleigh was our new sunbeam. Unfortunately, primary didn't really work out for Ashleigh. I remember we often had to go sit with her in her class, and if she went to class without us, sometimes a member of the primary presidency would end up bringing her to us.

One Sunday her teacher called and asked if Ashleigh could bring a picture of her daddy to class. We found a picture of the two of them, which Ashleigh lovingly held in her hand as she went to class that day. I was so happy that she was cooperating, until a short time later when we were summoned from our class. Ashleigh was crying and unhappy and wanted us, but even after she had us... she continued to be upset. We didn't realize what she wanted until she cried, "my picture"; they had brought her to us and forgotten to give her back her picture.

The primary program in 1991 was within just a few weeks of Ashleigh's death. It was a hard Sunday for me. The "year of firsts" is commonly known as; first birthday, first Christmas, first family vacation... the first "everything" without your loved one with you. The primary program was one of those days; not only was it a "first", but it was "in my face" right in front of me. There were all of the children in the ward... except Ashleigh. There were all of her little sunbeam friends... except Ashleigh. The song that the children had learned that year was "I'm Trying to be Like Jesus". It is a beautiful song, and we had sung it in our home often throughout the year, hearing the children sing it on that day was so difficult. It was without a doubt, a hard, hard Sunday, and by the time I returned home from church, I was pretty distraught.

I really only remember that I went into Ashleigh's room, shut the door, and collapsed on her bed. I sobbed into her pillow, I probably fell asleep for a while, and I sobbed some more. I remember hearing our home teacher arrive, but I stayed in the bedroom. I couldn't hear the conversation, just the low hum of voices in the other room. I spent several hours lying on Ashleigh's bed before finally coming out. It was a difficult day... there were many others ahead. But when I came out of Ashleigh's room that Sunday night I moved forward, it was very, very hard at times... but always forward.

This morning I attended my grandson Mason's primary program... he is a sunbeam. My heart swelled, and I know that I had the biggest grin on my face as I watched him singing the songs, and especially when he said his part so clearly and perfectly. I admit, I shed a tiny tear as he sang "I'm trying to be like Jesus, I'm following in his way..." but it was a tiny tear of joy... for that handsome sunbeam boy, my boys little boy; and for the reminder, that I'm trying to be like Jesus... too.

A Mother's Thoughts

These are the thoughts that I prepared to be read at Ashleigh's funeral, by my friend Lola Stansfield. I was tempted, briefly, to "edit" my writing (which I hope has improved through the years), but decided that it should be printed just as I wrote it twenty years ago.

It's hard to know where to begin when I talk about my Ashleigh. If you will just let me share with you for a few minutes some of my feelings about her maybe you will be able to understand in a small way what a great joy she has been to me and what a privilege and honor it is for me to be her Mother.

Ashleigh was a precious gift to me from my Heavenly Father. She was an answer to my prayers. This past year we have been hoping and praying for a miracle, but I have seen many miracles this year. I have seen the miracle of friendship, of sisterhood, of service given freely, of extended family bonding together all because of one little girl. I have seen the miracle of love. The unconditional love our Saviour has for each of us. That is the love that Ashleigh has for me. That is the love she has for her daddy and for her boys.

Ashleigh is such an important part of our family. She's our little Princess. She always loved to get dressed up pretty. On Sundays if she had on a new dress, she always came into the living room to twirl for her daddy and her boys. The boys used to sing to her, "Isn't she lovely, isn't she beautiful." or "hey, did you happen to see the most beautiful girl in the world, and if you did was it Ashleigh?"

You can see the boys love Ashleigh just as much as she loves them. When I asked my Heavenly Father to send me a daughter, I explained to him that I wanted my boys to have a sister in the home so that they would learn how important it is for them to honor the daughters of our Heavenly Father. They treated their sister the way a precious daughter of our Father should be treated.

There's always a special relationship between a daddy and his little girl, and Ashleigh was very smart. She knew she had a good thing going. Michael did everything he could for his little girl and more. If you came to our house on an evening you'd probably see Mike laying on the floor and Ashleigh sitting on his back reaching over his shoulder into a bowl of popcorn.

Occasionally Ashleigh and I would take a day off and go on the road with Mike to Preston, Idaho. While he visited his stores the two of us would visit our favorite stores. Mine was the craft store and Ashleigh's was the basement of King's. That was where they kept all of the toys.

Michael understood the special relationship that Ashleigh and I had also. He never denied me the joys of spoiling myself with frivolities for Ashleigh. If I came home from shopping and showed him a pair of Osh Kosh socks I'd spent $5 on just because they matched the outfit perfectly, he never complained. He just laughed and said, "Oh, won't my little girl make a fashion statement."

At the end of July he supported me patiently as I insisted on painting and re-carpeting Ashleigh's bedroom. It made me happy to see my little girls room, the way I'd always wanted it to look. I wanted it to be a beautiful room for angels to visit.

Ashleigh and I used to sit in the living room, and Mike would be on the floor or the couch, and I would point to him and say, "he's mine." Her eyes would light up and she'd say, "he's mine."

"He's my Babycakes." I'd say.

"No, he's my Babycakes." She'd reply.

After going back and forth a few times, the two of us would jump up and see who could get to him first, and we'd kiss him and hug him, and Mike would go along with the game by trying to decide who he belonged to.

Sometimes Ashleigh started the game first and sometimes I would. And then there were those days when Ashleigh would start, "he's mine" and I would say, "you can have him."

Can anyone in the ward forget the day that Becky and I sang, and Ashleigh and Morgan came up on the stand to entertain you? Poor Becky, they were standing right next to her, laughing and waving at the congregation. When I realized what was happening, I just looked at the music and thought, "just a few more lines and it's over." I could already feel the laughter rising in my throat. Ashleigh had a great love for Becky and Morgan.

Ashleigh used to say, "I love this" or "I don't love that." She didn't usually use the word like. One night Mike, Ashleigh and I were over at the Johnson's. We had been eating some treats and as we were leaving Steve picked up a piece of half eaten candy and said, "someone didn't love this."

I used to say to people, "I can't believe I got a girl, and a good one too." And she was good. She always obeyed me. When I lay in her bed with her at night, my favorite story to tell her was how I prayed to Heavenly Father for a baby girl, and that she was the baby girl I prayed for. That I wanted her to be a kind girl and to love others. She was a very kind girl and she did love others.

Sometimes you may hear me say that I have a family of fussy eaters. Ashleigh always ate everything I put in front of her and she always used a "dingelhopper."

There have been times this past year that Ashleigh sometimes showed bad behavior, maybe a little bit of a temper. She didn't want her mommy to leave her. Often times I took her with me wherever I went, and sometimes if I left alone, Mike ended up bringing her to me.

She went through as lot for a little girl. She didn't understand what was happening to her. She was frightened, and fought this sickness from the very beginning. While in the hospital last year she looked at me and said, "ohhh... what a day!"

Ashleigh has a great love for all of her family. At Christmastime, I asked her Grandpa Leger if he would build a little crib for her doll, Comfort. We went to the store (Leger's Deli) in Park City one day and Grandpa had the crib finished and in a box. We tried to sneak it in the car and Ashleigh said, "is that my Comfort's bed?"

She loved to play with her cousins, particularly those closest to her (age); Russell, Melissa and Ammanda. She loved her cousin Christopher. I tended him for a while and the two of them were quite a pair. They used to watch videos, and one day the two of them were sitting in front of the TV watching Alice in Wonderland. Ashleigh pointed to the TV and said, "look, a fafa fly." Christopher turned to look at Ashleigh with a disgusted look on his face and said, "that's not a fafa fly, it's a butterfly, look a pink butterfly and a blue butterfly."

It broke my heart when Christopher passed away nearly two years ago. My cousin passed away when I was a child and I missed the friendship that we could have had, and now Ashleigh would grow up missing that too. But Ashleigh and Christopher are together now, and that thought has made it easier for me to let her go.

When Christopher's baby sister was born last October, I told Ashleigh she needed to take care of Tara because that's what Christopher wanted her to do. If anyone talked about babies around Ashleigh, she would say, "my baby is Tara." Even at the beginning of July, as she rapidly lost her speech, I would ask "Ashleigh, who's your baby?" and she would say, "Tara."

Ashleigh loved her friends. All last winter she talked about her birthday, and we planned to have a party with her friends. As her birthday approached, I knew her tumor was back, and I prayed, "Heavenly Father, please let her have her birthday." Her birthday came, her friends came, we had fun. She could hardly walk by then, but she was content and happy watching her friends have fun. The night of her birthday I prayed, "Heavenly Father, she's had her birthday, if you want her now, you can have her." But our Heavenly Father does everything in his own time. He knows His plan, he allowed us to have Ashleigh a while longer, so that we could learn true service and what it means to endure to the end, and what it means to love unconditionally.

We were able to take Ashleigh to California in June. Many of our extended family went and we had a great trip. On the way down we stopped to spend the night at the Peppermill. I took Ashleigh to the pools for a short time, but then the two of us returned to our room alone. It had been a long day of driving and Ashleigh was hot. As she lay on the bed I became scared, and I thought, "what have I done, I'm out here in the middle of the desert with a sick child and I don't even know where a hospital is." So I got down on my knees and said, "Heavenly Father I'm scared, my Ashleigh has a fever and I'm out here in the middle of nowhere. I'm just a mother asking you to make my baby well, and to let us have this trip we all need." Her fever went away.

The next day our drive to the beach house went great. Our entire week was uneventful and we had a marvelous trip together. My Ashleigh-O never complained. She sat patiently in the beach house waiting for any one of us to take her to the beach. On the beach we would sit her in a lounge chair with an umbrella to shade her, she'd sit there for hours, happy to watch the rest of us romp and play.

She was unable to sit up very well without her back supported, sometimes Granpa Marsden would dig a little hole in the sand and set her in it, and build the sand up to her waist to help support her. He's give her a bucket and spade to dig in the sand.

She tried so hard to communicate with us, but her speech was becoming very slow and slurred. She would say, "I want a..." but at times we couldn't understand the rest, so we'd run around the beach house, pointing at things until her face would break out in a grin and we knew we had the right thing.

I used to love to say, "I love you Ashleigh." Because when I did she always grinned and she said, "I love you too." When we drove in the car with just the two of us, often times we would be holding hands. I remember one day the two of us were driving to Preston with Mike, and we were enjoying our conversation. Mike got a little excited as he talked and Ashleigh misinterpreted his tone as anger. She said, "daddy don't get mad at my best friend."

Ashleigh is indeed my best friend. Our relationship has been very special. She has been my constant companion for four years, four months and four days. We loved to go shopping, to lunch, to go on walks, and to sing songs. We did everything together.

This last year has been a happy one. Our Heavenly Father was watching out for us. Our Christmas holiday was the best ever, our vacation as I have mentioned was wonderful. Ashleigh went through a lot for a little girl, nearly eight weeks of radiation therapy on a daily basis, three MRI's, and brown medicine. Ashleigh fought it the whole way. She also went through eye surgery, wore eye patches and glasses.

One day in the early stages of radiation I became frustrated. She wasn't cooperating. I couldn't get her to understand I was fighting for her very life. I said to her, "if you don't do it for yourself, do it for the loved ones in your life." She went through all that for me, because she loved me. Just so I could have her for a while longer.

We never told Ashleigh what the doctor told us. I didn't feel it was necessary to explain that to a three-year-old. I don't regret it now. I had to prepare her in my own way. Remembering I've always held fast to my faith that my Heavenly Father could heal her if it was His will. I taught her that Heavenly Father and Jesus love her. I taught her to pray to Heavenly Father and ask him to "make a me better."

These last couple of months as she lay semi-comatose, I talked to her. I told her it was okay if she had to leave me, that I wanted her to be with me, but if she had to go, I would be okay. And I am. Heavenly Father has made her better, he has given her the greatest gift of all, eternal life in the Celestial Kingdom. She has earned it, she deserves it. And we must all remember that she is His Ashleigh too, she was His Ashleigh first.

I could talk about Ashleigh all day, please let me. When you see me, don't be afraid to approach me. If I want to talk about her sometime, please just listen for a few moments. I want to share her with you. You all have seen how special she is.

Families please love each other. It is Heavenly Father's plan that we be in family groups, that is so important. On Tuesday night when Mike and I and the boys were alone together for the first time that day, we went into Ashleigh's bedroom. I pointed to her beautiful dresses hanging in the closet, to her toys, to all the beautiful things I have collected for her. I said, "boys, Ashleigh didn't take any of these things with her. These things are just objects, they are not important."

Yes, brothers and sisters we do enjoy our things, and some of them are important to us, but not if we put them ahead of our Heavenly Father, ahead of doing those things that we should be doing to ensure our place in the Celestial Kingdom. In closing, I would like to share a poem written for me by someone dear to me and to Ashleigh.

Answer to Prayer
by Terri Johnson

"Dear Father, please send me the gift I desire,"
Her plea from God's temple was heard.
An earnest petition from a daughter of faith
humbly taken before the Lord.

"My daughter," He answered, I've heard your prayer.
And your righteous desire will be.
I'm sending to you the most precious of gifts,
A daughter for eternity."

The grateful young mother held tight in her arms
a bundle more priceless than gold.
"Dear Father, I thank thee for answer to prayer.
I thank thee for this daughter to hold."

Then, another prayer from the temple was heard.
This one came with faith greater still.
"Dear Father, I place her life in thy hands,
Please help me to know thy will."

Heavy rains fell and all nature mourned,
as Father, Himself must have wept.
The gift given here could no longer remain.
She was peacefully called home while she slept.

The gift still remains that he promised to her,
for eternally she will be theirs.
And comfort He sends as He cradles the child
who taught them of answers to prayers.

I look forward to the day when my Heavenly Father puts my child back in my arms, and then I will sigh as Ashleigh did, and say, "Ohhh... what a day."