Hayley is gone.
This is her story. Her story with me, for the short time I was blessed to call her mine.
I often have to remind myself that she’s gone. I still reach for my phone to text or call her several times a day. She’s been gone for two months now, and somehow it still doesn’t feel real. My life just doesn’t feel right without her.
She wasn’t okay, so maybe I have to be okay for her now.
Hayley and I were supposed to be roommates at the Oxford House when I first got out of prison, but she was still struggling with her alcoholism. She went to detox the night before I got out, so we saved a bed for her in a different room.
Hayley was a fighter. She was strong.
Her sobriety date ended up being just three days after my prison release date. So every month, we celebrated together. Another month sober for her. Another month free for me. We counted days together.
I remember meeting her, but honestly, I didn’t pay too much attention to her at first. I had my first new friend out of prison over at the house, and at that point I was still mainly focused on myself. It took me time to let people in. Somewhere along the way, Hayley started giving her roommate and me rides to meetings.
And Hayley grew on me quickly. Somehow, she just infiltrated her way into my life.
Her smile was contagious, and she had this fake little laugh-giggle she’d do after saying something funny that reminded me of my cousin. There was something about her I admired almost immediately. Hayley had this beauty, passion, and grace that seemed to flow out of her naturally. Kindness and compassion came easily to her. She could meet someone and almost immediately see the person underneath whatever mess they were carrying.
Me? I was a walking contradiction. Grace was something I had to work for.
But prison had given me some things Hayley needed too. I had stopped caring so much about what other people thought of me. I had learned to set boundaries—and actually stick to them—more than I ever had before. I had also learned that I could love someone for whatever good I saw inside them without allowing them unlimited access to my life. Sometimes loving someone meant walking away. Sometimes it meant loving them from a distance.
And prison had taught me how to let shit go. After years of having absolutely no control over my own life, I had finally learned to stop trying to control everything else. I learned how to go with the flow.
Hayley had some things I needed. And somehow, I had some things she needed too.
Somewhere in the middle of what she had and what I had, we found each other.
And that was it.
Hayley and I bonded at a soul-deep level.
She began teaching me what true friendship looked like.
She became my Hayley, and I was even introduced as Hayley’s Amy if she wasn’t there. Lol.
I unexpectedly got laid off from the ministry that had hired me a year before I got out of prison. Then I got an amazing temporary job offer. There was just one problem: it was across town, and I didn’t have a car.
I spent hours calculating my income and my options. Eventually, I decided that even if I had to spend $250 a week on Lyft, the experience and pay would be worth it. I could still pay my bills and very slowly save for a car.
Hayley was about to start a new job off the highway. She insisted it wouldn’t be out of her way to take me and told me to just cover half the gas we used every day. It was kinda on her way, but I was working ten- and eleven-hour days while she worked eight. She could have slept in or gone to her home group at 6 a.m. every morning, but Hayley wouldn’t take no for an answer.
She had an answer for every objection I gave her. It gave her time to do her morning readings. She could meditate before work. While she waited for me in the afternoon, she could run her errands. It was perfect, she told me.
I knew damn well it wasn’t perfect. I knew this arrangement was a whole lot more convenient for me than it was for her. But eventually, I understood something: she wasn’t offering because it was convenient. She was offering because she loved me.
Apparently, Hayley was going to help me whether I liked it or not.
I didn’t understand why someone would do all of that for me yet, but I began thanking God for putting Hayley in my life. Every day, I thanked God for this amazing woman.
And so it began. Hayley got me to work on time every single day. In the evenings, I never had to wait for my ride. She was always waiting for me. It was actually a while before anyone at work even realized I didn’t have a car.
We went to our favorite meetings after work. Then, when my roommate moved out, Hayley moved in. It made sense because we were basically already living on the same schedule anyway. She’d also been having trouble sleeping because her old roommate kept completely different hours than we did.
She worried about some of my choices in men, and honestly, I worried about some of hers too. 
But no matter what happened, Hayley loved me unconditionally. She would drop anything at the drop of a hat to be there for me.
There was really only one person who ever came before me: her beautiful, talented daughter, Grayson. Grayson was her everything. I’m so grateful I got to meet G before Hayley left us.
I worried about Hayley too. I worried about her being stuck on her Fourth Step and about some of the resentments she was still carrying. But she always promised me she was alright, and most of the time, she seemed happy.
Meanwhile, my own life was changing unbelievably fast. After only a month of working, I had saved half of what I needed to purchase a car I’d found. I also had enough to pay $500 in child support and set up the payment plan I needed to get my driver’s license back.
I put the down payment on the car, and by the beginning of February, it was paid off.
Less than three months out of prison, I had a car.
I had worked my ass off for it, but I also knew something else. Before I could drive myself forward, Hayley had helped carry me there.
By this time, my boss and I had become close friends too. I’d finally told him my entire sordid past, and I had started taking him up on some of the rides he’d been offering me. Pretty soon, he and Hayley were actually arguing over who was taking me where.
Seriously. How could someone in my position be so lucky?
When Hayley drove me to pick up my car, she was sad-happy. She was so proud of me, but she told the man I bought it from that she was sad too because now she was going to lose so much of her time with me.
My heart was full.
When someone tried to tell my story to my new employer before I was ready, Hayley was right there. She held my hand, ready to catch me if I fell and cheering me on when I didn’t know what was going to happen next.
I think Hayley loved me before I truly knew how to love myself.
She always answered the phone. She always had good advice. And when I thought my entire life was falling apart, somehow Hayley would be there with a peanut butter Snickers and a Dr Pepper—two of my favorite comfort items. Her way of saying, I’ve got you.
Around Christmas, I went with her to give Grayson her presents. One of them was a 3D printer, and Grayson went crazy over it. A few days later, Hayley came home with these little boats, blue blended into green. Grayson had made three matching ones: one for herself, one for her mom, and one for me. Mine still sits on my nightstand.
Then I fell for the wrong guy.
Hayley was terrified for me. She saw me beginning to lose myself long before I could see it. She fought for me, and for a while, I fell away.
There’s a much longer story behind that, and maybe I’ll tell it someday. I was “falling in love” and rushing around. I was spending less and less time at home and more and more time with this guy. Hayley and he would argue over who got what days, and honestly, it made me feel special and loved.
I was still hitting my meetings and working seven days a week. I had three nights with him and four with Hayley. Saturday nights with Hayley were supposed to be the most important part of my week: church, dinner, meeting. That routine had become part of my foundation of stability and balance.
Then one Saturday, everything got messy.
There was an incident at the house involving medication I mistakenly thought was mine. The house believed I may have taken it intentionally. I didn’t show up to the house meeting the following day to defend myself, and they unanimously voted to ask me to leave.
At the time, I didn’t care—or at least I told myself I didn’t. The atmosphere in the house had already been terrible, and instead of going to that house meeting, I let the guy I was seeing take me to get my hair done.
But when I heard the vote had been unanimous, I’ll admit it hurt.
Now, with distance, I understand why Hayley voted the way she did.
Back then, I didn’t.
And the man I was with knew exactly where to push.
He played the idea that Hayley wasn’t my true friend if she could vote against me over and over and over in my head until eventually, I started believing it.
Once again, I allowed a man to convince me that one of the people who loved me most wasn’t really my friend.
And that’s when I fell away. But she waited.
Hayley didn’t stop loving me because I got lost for a while. When I finally needed somewhere to fall, her arms were still open.
That’s who Hayley was.
She was the only person to call me by my prison nickname, “I Am Amy.” LOL. Nobody else outside of prison understood it. Just Hayley did.
She was also the only person who truly understood some of the trauma I dealt with during those first few months at my new job.
I hope she can see me now.
I still struggle, but I’m so much stronger when it comes to men and keeping myself first. I’m learning that love isn’t supposed to require me to disappear. Hayley saw how badly I needed to learn that long before I did.
At some point, I texted Hayley and asked if I could use her real name in my blog. I explained that I rarely used anyone’s real name in my writing. The only time I did was when someone was such an important part of my story that I knew they were a permanent part of it.
She told me she would be honored.
So I used her name.
I wrote:
Sometimes home is Hayley waiting at a meeting with a peanut butter Snickers and a Dr Pepper.
I had no idea how much those words would eventually mean.
Toward the end of my story with Hayley, she was struggling more and more. There were nights when she felt like she couldn’t do life anymore, and I was the only one she was willing to talk to.
I felt honored that she trusted me.
I was also terrified.
Many nights, I sat on the phone with her for hours just reminding her I was there and I loved her. I would coax her to go to sleep or ask her to let me come over. Sometimes she seemed okay the next morning. Sometimes it took longer.
I felt helpless. I didn’t know how to fix what was hurting inside my friend, so I prayed. I prayed that whenever she didn’t know what to do anymore, she would keep calling me.
One morning, after a particularly rough night, I texted her and asked if there was anything in the entire world I could do to make her feel even a little better.
She said teleporting her and Grayson to a secluded island.
Okay.
Slight problem.
I hadn’t quite figured out teleportation yet.
I thought and thought about what I could possibly do. Finally, I decided the next best option was obviously a genie lamp. You gotta love Amazon Prime. It showed up the next day. It didn’t actually work, but I hope it made her smile.
Not long after that, Hayley went to visit family. As soon as she got back, I texted her that I missed her. She replied right back.
I was getting ready to leave Florida for work, and originally, I’d created a Facebook event inviting everyone to come say goodbye. By Tuesday morning, I deleted it. I realized I didn’t really care that much about saying goodbye to a huge group of people. I just wanted Hayley.
My sister and I already had dinner planned for Friday, so after work Tuesday, I called Hayley. I wanted to ask her to have dinner with just me and her on Thursday.
She didn’t answer. That wasn’t like Hayley. Hayley always answered.
I tried again. Straight to voicemail now.
I started to panic and texted her to call me back ASAP. This was a woman who would answer my phone call while she was on a date with the new boyfriend she was head over heels for. Something wasn’t right.
Then I saw her Facebook post from the beach. She wrote about being excited to start a new chapter.
To someone looking from the outside, it probably sounded beautiful. But I wasn’t on the outside. I was on the inside Hayley. Something about it didn’t feel right.
I called and texted again and again throughout the night.
I didn’t know until the next morning that while I was desperately trying to reach her, Hayley was already slipping away from us on that beach.
There are some moments your life divides itself around.
Before and after.
This was one of mine.
I don’t know everything that happened inside Hayley that day. I don’t know why that particular day became the day when the pain felt bigger than the possibilities.
I wish I did.
God, I wish I did.
One of the things that brings me comfort is knowing that during our time together, Hayley and I grew in our faith together through church, prayer, the Bible, recovery, and love. I had nudged her back toward God at times, and she had certainly nudged me toward Him too.
There are so many things Hayley won’t get to see.
She won’t see Grayson finish high school. She won’t see her graduate college or get married. She won’t see the life I kept telling her I was going to build come to fruition. And she won’t get to see me becoming the woman she seemed to believe I could be long before I did.
After I got the news, I picked up the little blue-and-green boat Grayson made for us. For almost 24 hours, I didn’t put it down. I held it. I slept with it. I cried with it. I screamed with it. I prayed with it.
I don’t even completely understand why. It was just the only thing that made me feel close to her and brought me the slightest bit of comfort.
That day, I only talked to my sponsor. I didn’t try to make myself okay. I didn’t try to find some profound lesson in it. I just let myself feel everything.
Before I left Florida, I went to the beach where Hayley died. I needed to say goodbye.
I cried and talked to her. I walked along the beach and picked up shells that reminded me of her. I drew a heart in the sand and told her what I was doing and where I was going.
She took a piece of my heart with her on that beach that day. And I carried a piece of hers with me to the next state.
Sometimes home really is a person. Hayley was mine.
So yes, two months later, I still reach for my phone to call her. Two months later, something happens and she’s still the only person I desperately want to tell. Two months later, there are moments when I need to hear her voice so badly that I cry.
But two months later, I’m also a little more okay every day.
Not because I’m leaving Hayley behind.
Because I’m learning how to carry her with me.
She wasn’t okay.
But I will be.
For her. And for me.
I love you, Hayley.
This is your story.
This is our story.
This is my healing.
And this is my goodbye.