FROM SOMEONE WHO LOVED CASSIE: PART ONE

Editor's Note: The following is a part of the full story of a mother
who lost her daughter to methamphetamine use. Mary Haydal will be in
the Northern Hills area to personally share her experiences with
adults and children this month.

Adults will receive drug education during the presentation, and the
children will view a memorial video for Cassie and a two-minute DVD
of Cassie taken two weeks before she collapsed from meth use.
Haydal's next presentation will be held Jan. 10 at Spearfish High
School. ----------------------------------- Last edit: October 7,
2003 -- I can tell you the last beautiful fall day of the year 2000.
It was Nov. 4. The weather was crisp.

All of the leaves had fallen off the trees and lay as crunchy carpet
in our yard. It was Saturday, my day off. I had a formal dress
pattern and material sprawled out on the floor.

The top would be strapless leather, with a v-cut in the middle.

The bottom would be a fitted long skirt made of black silk. I picked
it out myself for my 18-year-old daughter, Cassie. I knew she would
look stunning in it, with long gloves, an antique purse (from my
mother) and a delicate shoe to set it off. It was our tradition to
make all of her formal dresses because Cassie was 5'10" tall, and
nothing in the stores was long enough for her. I wasn't a very good
seamstress, but Cassie wasn't picky.

She looked beautiful in everything I made and she wore all of my
mistakes proudly.

It was a pleasure to sew for her. When I finished her first dress, I
embroidered inside, "Made with love for Cas, '98". Greg, her father,
and a past insulator by trade, was excellent at cutting patterns of
any kind. When he saw me struggling with the design of the matching
drawstring purse, he took a new piece of left over material and laid
it out on the floor.

He cut the pattern for her purse. (Not too many people know about
this past bull rider and rancher designing accessories for prom.) The
finished product was lined with a place even for her lipstick. Cassie
had an exotic beauty: beautiful olive skin, brown eyes with gold
flicks, full lips and flawless features, a slim frame and light brown
shoulder-length hair. Although she was very tall and graceful, she
didn't consider herself beautiful though.

Like most teenage girls, all she saw were the self-invented flaws.
Today was also busy for Cassie. It was the first day she started
coaching her little sister's basketball team. Everyone was supposed
to meet in the gym at noon. They were getting ready to play in a
parochial school basketball tournament in Billings (150 miles away)
in just a couple of weeks. The day hadn't started out very well.
Cassie had missed her curfew by a long shot Friday night.

She told us she was going to stay the night with Grandma, who lived
in a trailer in the front pasture of our property.

Grandma called early to let us know that Cassie had not shown up to
spend the night with her and she was wondering if Cassie had come
home. Although I was worried, I told Grandma not to worry. "Maybe
Cassie had fallen asleep on Levi's floor.

She's a good kid. I'm sure she'll call." And I hung up the phone.

Levi was Cassie's boyfriend of three years.

He had graduated the year before. A short time later Cassie called to
apologize for staying out all night.

She said she had fallen asleep on Levi's front room floor, as I had
suspected. I told her to get right home and that I figured that is
what happened.

I was still annoyed with the lack of her adherence to the rules.

But I believed her - until I saw her. A few minutes later, Cassie
walked through the door. She looked horrible.

I assumed, much to my dismay that she had been drinking. I confronted
her about my suspicion.

"Cassie, you have been drinking all night, haven't you?" I accused.
"No Mom, I promise, I haven't been drinking."

"Cassie, I'm not stupid, I can tell when someone has been out all
night drinking." I assured her. "Mom," She said sincerely, "I promise
you with all that I am that I did not touch alcohol last night."
"Your Dad left upset this morning.

He wants us to all sit down and visit this evening.

I know you are 18 and feel ready to be on your own, but as long as
you live here, you have to follow our rules.

That includes coming home at curfew and not drinking!" "Mom," She
said softly, "This won't happen again.

I'm sorry." And then she moved in to hug me. I accepted her hug and
kissed her warmly. "What do you want to do about practice?" I asked,
moving on. Cassie responded sheepishly, "I would like to lay down
until 10:30 a.m. Would you wake me up then? I have to be at practice
at noon." I agreed to do as she asked and she went to lay down. It
wasn't just this morning that Cassie didn't look good. She had been
sick for the last three weeks.

She had a real gravely, loose cough.

She had dark circles under her eyes. Her hair was getting broken off
and thin. She looked like she might be losing weight.

She was never home. We thought between work and school she was
getting too run down. We thought she had the same virus that I had
had a few weeks before - one of those hang-on viruses that I couldn't
get rid of. In the past three weeks, we had taken her to two different doctors.

The last visit was just two days ago. Both doctors told her she
needed to quit smoking.

Her lungs were in terrible shape, but all of our well-thought out
lectures hadn't deterred her from smoking.

We blamed her "bronchitis" on the smoking and the fact she wasn't
getting well. She told me she would try to quit and she had even
asked me to pray with her about it. At 10:30 a.m., we started trying
to wake Cassie. We called her and called her. She finally roused,
looking worse than when she laid down. A workout would be good for
her. Sweat out the poison. At 11:30 a.m. Cassie and Nicki left for
basketball practice.

They had to pick up another little girl who lived on the way. So off
they went, Cassie looked willing and happy to be coaching her little
sister's team but because of her activities the night before, she
looked kind of like working out was the last thing she wanted to be doing.

Nicki was full of expectation and pride that her sister was going to
be the coach.

She worshiped Cassie. You could tell by the way she looked at her.
Her eyes were always on Cassie. She asked her opinion on everything
and she always respected what Cassie told her. Her face was
especially bright when Cassie was around.

She was always trying to be included with Cas and her friends. The
girls were 6 years apart.

Cassie was more like a mother to Nicki. She baby sat her, gave her
rides, helped her with her homework, offered advice and served lectures.

She gave her basketball pointers, rides on her shoulders and swimming lessons.

Because Cassie was going to be her coach, this was a big day for
Nicki. While they were gone, I busied myself with my to-do list at
home. Time passed quickly.

The girls came tumbling in two hours later, exhausted, sweaty and laughing.

They had had a great practice.

They said it was lots of fun. Everyone had enjoyed it. Nicki said all
the little girls loved Cassie for their coach.

She made practice fun and taught them a lot in just a couple of hours.

You could tell Nicki was proud of the way things went. She had
mentioned that she was really looking forward to the tournament
now... Cassie went into her room to change.

She put her robe on over her clothes.

I thought that was strange, but blamed it on the fact she wasn't
feeling well. I guessed she was feeling chilled.

I offered to fix her something to eat, but she declined. After
practice, when she still looked horrible, I felt concerned that maybe
the bronchitis was turning into pneumonia.

I made a mental note to keep her home the rest of the weekend to keep
an eye on her. I thought it was strange she would drink to begin
with, much less when she was ill. Cassie interrupted my thoughts...
"Mom, those girls are going to kill me! I'm so out of shape!" She
kissed me and hugged me and said, "I love you. I'm sorry I was out all night.

I told her I loved her too. I kissed her cheek, three times and
hugged her tight. (I never just kissed my girls once. They knew after
the first kiss, to leave their cheek out, because there were always
two more coming.) After we talked, Cassie went into the bathroom.

Nicki was in the bedroom playing a computer game. We both heard a loud crash.

We met each other in the kitchen.

We asked each other what that noise was. I felt panicked and called
out, to Cassie in the bathroom, but she didn't answer. I called out
again with a voice that expects an answer, "Cassie!" I felled a cold
chill run through my body and I stiffened.

I tried to get the bathroom door open. Her legs were blocking the
door. All I could see were her feet. When I pushed my way in, she was
bluish and her head was cocked against the tub. Right away I thought
she fainted and then hit her head on the edge of the tub. I suspected
a severe concussion. Seconds later, I realized that something else
was terribly wrong. I drug her out into the dining room and called
911. I instructed Nicki to take the car and drive over to Shannon's house.

Shannon is a nurse who lives across the country road. She did as I
asked and ran out the door. Imagine sending a 12-year-old with a
vehicle all by herself to look for help. She had learned to drive
over the last two years with Grandma, Dad and myself on the country roads.

She was a good driver, but driving alone, she could have been injured
or injured someone else. At the time I wasn't thinking all of those
possibilities because my oldest child was dying. I ran back into the
house where Cassie lay and I stared down at her blue, still body. I
remember thinking, "My God, I have to start CPR!" I used to work in
the hospital.

We all had been trained in CPR, but that's when I was pregnant with
Cassie. I couldn't remember how to start.

I begged God to help me. I begged, "Please God, please don't take
her. Please don't take her." I screamed at Cassie to come back, and I
started CPR. Pushing into her I coached, "Come on baby girl, don't
leave mama. Come on Cas." I breathed into her. Her lips were getting
tight and cold. Her stomach would rise with every breath and an eerie
hollow sound would come from deep within her. The sound of my own
breathes searching within her for her body to respond back. "I'm OK
now Mom, you don't have to do that anymore.

I just fainted." But all I kept hearing were my own breathes echoing
back inside the emptiness of my daughter.