When Kala does cry, it sounds so strange as to be mistaken for a sound effect. It's a high-pitched, vibrato-less sort of wolf-howl that gets repeated until she passes out because she's so tired she cannot think straight. We hear this crazy wolf howl frequently, when Kala is at her tiredest.
* * *
Kala's closest friend when she is very small is named Aly. Kala and Aly go to the same preschool. They hang out together on playdates, dress up, and goof around. They seem well suited for each other; Aly gives her the opportunity for bigger-girl play than she has with Nora, who is still a baby at the time.
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Grandma Pat is quite frugal and that is meant as a compliment. We go into a Legal Sea Foods during one of our summer visits to Massachusetts - a classic tourist trap on the waterfront in Boston - and Kala proceeds to order the most expensive thing on the menu. She is probably 11 or 12 years old. We can't tell if she is just unaware of the expense, or if she knows and ordered like this on purpose, but the rest of the family are a little shocked that she goes high on the hog when she Grandma is paying. To her credit, the following summer, her tastes are more reasonably priced.
* * *
Grandma has invited Kala and her sister Brenna out to a show one evening. Brenna has chosen reasonable clothes for an evening out with your grandmother: nice, but fairly casual. For some reason, Kala is going ultra-formal. She totters down the green carpeted stairs, hours ahead of time, in gold high-heeled sandals and a flowing white floor-length halter gown with a chiffon shawl. She hangs around dressed like this in Grandma's crowded kitchen, checking her email in her ballgown. They pose for pictures on the porch.
* * *
Kala has eczema, which is aggravated by stress. When she comes to us she has bad patches behind the backs of her knees and in the crooks of her elbows. It's itchy, so she scratches, which makes it worse. She also gets red rough skin around her mouth. We add turquoise Alpha Keri oil to her baths and I rub Eucerin cream by the tubful into her rough, angry, scabbed skin. When it gets very bad we use hydrocortisone, but we're told not to use it too often because it will thin the skin. It does work like a charm, though. The useful thing about Kala's eczema is that it's a clearly visible sign of her stress level. We work very hard to keep her stress level manageable when she's with us, but of course we have no control over anything after that.
I notice when she comes back to visit in the summers that inevitably, her eczema is flaring up to one degree or another. I remember one summer in particular - she is 13 and sunning herself at the beach - scratching her poor legs and the scabs are starting to bleed - and I just want to grab her hands and hold them and help her skin get better. But she's too big now and it would freak her out.
* * *
Sometimes Kala has a sort of fit. She loses her temper or her control about something and just wigs out. It's very loud and upsetting. Sometimes I take her in my arms and hold her. I tell her quietly that I'm going to hold her safe in my arms until she feels OK again. She screams and struggles a long time and then she quiets down.
* * *
Kala gets a gigantic splinter in the bottom of her big toe. It's about one-third the length of a toothpick, completely submerged. I can tell it hurts her because she's crying hard, actual tears, not big theatrical yells. I take her to the neighbor, who is a nurse, to ask if she can help. She gets out her equipment but Kala is screaming so loud, she says she's afraid to do it. I get Kala on my lap, face down, and tell her I'm going to get it out. The splinter is so large and so deep that I cannot get it out with a tweezer. I have to take a scalpel and make a tiny, shallow, parallel cut. When I make the cut, Kala lets out a very high, loud shriek and I feel badly for her. But it does not bleed; I lift the splinter out immediately and show it to her. She calms down but still cries a bit. I dab ointment on her toe and bandage it up.
* * *
One day during quiet time, Kala has come out for the Nth time. I have been trying to rest because I'm pregnant. Something about that last time hearing her door open and her little feet running out causes my last good neuron to snap. I get up quickly at the sound of the doorknob turning, scoop her up in my arms, tell her through gritted teeth, "you need to stay in your room," and bounce her onto her bed. But because I'm now so frustrated, I swing her with more forward momentum than intended, and Kala banks off the bed a couple inches to the wall, which meets her forehead with a bonk. The bonk turns into a shiner which makes me feel like complete shit for weeks. Actually I still feel like shit about it. I apologize and hug her and of course she forgives me, but I'm frightened. I'm not in control, I don't know how to parent this kid, and I need to get this locked down, NOW. I go to the bookstore, find and devour the book on Parent Effectiveness Training, and am able to apply some of the techniques almost immediately. From that point on, even though it remains challenging at times, I feel more confident I can handle the most difficult situations with her.
* * *
A number of Kala's friends put out Facebook memorials and posts after she died. She also maintained a MySpace page but I cannot get into it.
In Memory of Kala Marie Hardy Facebook page
4/12/08 blog post by a schoolmate: http://roosterteeth.com/members/journal/entry.php?id=2015818
4/28/08: RIP Kala YouTube tribute (2,031 views as of 10/26/11)
5/30/08: Rest In Peace Kala Hardy (1,173 views)
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