I have been thinking so much about how life changes. Almost in the blink of an eye, but not quite. How do we get from there to here? How did that life choice really affect me? How would I be if certain trials in my life wouldn't have happened? How do I begin to understand the grace that carried me through the hard times?
Answer....I don't know that we will know the answers to any of these questions here on earth.
I bet you are wondering why in the world I am thinking about all of this.
A few months back I was thinking through the year. What was coming in the following months and so on. A big date in our family is September 3, 1996. This is not a happy date. It's not a birthday. It isn't something we talk about very often. This was a sad day. A hard day. A day that changed our family forever. A day that none of like to think of. In all honesty it isn't just the day but the 3-4 days leading up to it.
It all really started on the night of August 31. It was a normal Friday night. We had pizza for supper. As mom put away left overs she told us kids we needed to get ready for bed. We had a close friend of the family and his daughter with us as well.
That's when it all started. Yelling from the bathroom. Not crazy yelling just my brothers voice yelling for mom. She was busy so sent me in.
When I walked in my brother, Patrick, was sitting, holding his inhaler. He had asthma so this was pretty normal. He was breathing hard as he told me that he couldn't take a deep breath. I was slightly annoyed, thought that he was just messing around. So I pointed to his hand and told him to take a few puffs. As he tried to talk to me I realized this wasn't him stalling for time. This was real.
I quickly went back to the kitchen to get my mom. She went in to check on him and within moments she was racing back out into the kitchen. She grabbed the phone and was calling 911. All the while frantically telling my dad he needed to get in there and help him.
Next thing I remember is my dad was carrying him outside. Patrick's lips looked pretty blue. He had passed out.
Then people. Lots of people. My mom instructed me to stay with my 2 sisters and our friend. INSIDE. Don't come out.
I finished putting away pizza. As I took the empty boxes from the house through the porch to the garage to recycle I could see onto the patio. There he was. Laying on the hard cement. Flashing lights. Lots of people surrounding him. Lots of frantic voices. I could see that neighbors were starting to come. To see what was going on.
I was only 13. I had never experienced such a thing. What was I supposed to be feeling. I felt slightly sick.
I remember sitting in the living room, the 3 girls and I, we were in a circle. Holding hands. They were crying. I was so scared but didn't feel like I could show that. We started to pray. What do a 13, 11, 9 and 4 year old, know about praying. Not much but we knew there was nothing else we could do.
Time felt never ending. After a while mom came inside to tell us that air care was on its way. If we wanted to see Patrick go, we could come out. I remember not wanting to go out there. My sisters did and they wanted me to come with them. So we went.
The night was so dark. All the flashing lights were so bright. The sound of the helicopter was so loud! There were now even more people. So many people. I know they were just trying to show care and support but it made me feel more like a zoo animal than anything else.
My parents needed to go to the hospital. They were in no condition to drive. The pastor of our church drove them. My mom's brother stayed with us overnight.
That night I learned how tender hearted my uncle is. As he sat with us, talked to us. He also cried with us. He told us that it was ok to be sad. Ok to be scared. Ok to cry.
The next morning he took us up to the hospital. More people. More waiting. More uncertainty as to how I should feel.
We learned that on the way to the hospital Patrick's heart has stopped and it took them 12 minutes (I think) to restart it.
We were allowed to go see Patrick. He was in Intensive Care. He looked like he was asleep. There were so many tubes. The nurse took us through what the numbers on his monitors meant. Explained what each tube did and why he needed it. There was a ventilator breathing for him. It was strange to see him like that.
I remember them telling us that we should talk to him. I couldn't help but feel a little silly. He wasn't awake. Could he even hear me? I remember holding his hand. Telling him that if he could hear me he should squeeze it.
Days past. No school on Monday because it was Labor day. On Monday night I went home with my Aunt and Uncle. My cousin was the same age as me and in the same grade at the same school. The plan was to stay the night and go to school with her in the morning.
That night I had a dream. It wasn't scary, it just was.
I was with Patrick. We were outside. It was night. A super dark night. I was trying to talk to him. He was very excited. Pacing around and talking to himself. I was starting to get frustrated. I started to see light in the distance. It seemed as if out of nowhere, there was a man. I knew him. It was Jesus. He was crouching down with his arms out. Before I knew it, Patrick was running toward him. I tired to call after him. He didn't hear me. He kept running.
Then I woke up. I don't know what time it was. It was dark out but I could see that the sun was starting to come up. What did this dream mean? Did Patrick die?
Morning came. Plans changed and my grandparents picked me up. They already had my sisters. We went to the hospital.
The room was sad. My mom was crying and hugging a friend that had stopped by. I knew that my dream may have actually been real.
My parents sat down with us. They explained that very early that morning the doctors came to them. Patrick had taken a turn for the worse. They wanted to do an EEG to see what his brain activity was. There was no longer brain activity. There was to much damage from lack of oxygen. My parents signed papers for organ donation.
We were allowed back into the ICU ward to see him one more time. He looked the same as he had the day before. The machine making him take specifically timed breaths. What made today different than yesterday?
Probably the most vivid memory I have is this one. Leaving the hospital.
I don't remember the walk to the van. I remember Dad was driving, mom in the passenger seat. Their arms both just kind of hanging limp between their seats, and they were holding hands.
As we were pulling out of the parking lot my mom began to sob. My dad was softly cry to. I remember feeling like I was intruding. Like I shouldn't be there. I wasn't supposed to see this. This was the first moment that I saw my mom and dad not just as all knowing parents but as regular people. Struggling.
They didn't know how to navigate the loss of their only son any more than I knew how to process the loss of my only brother. The ride was oh so very quiet.
These days changed me FOREVER! I was 13. Patrick only 11.
I learned who my true friends were. I learned how to care for others who have been through loss. Not because I know how they felt but because I know how it made me feel.
This year it has been 20 years. 20 YEARS!!! So much has happened. So many things have changed. More joys, more trials.
I often think about what maybe would have been. How would my life have been different if this had never happened. Would I have met and married my husband John? I don't know that I would have. Because of the grief process I chose to change schools. Thus meeting and getting to know him. I don't think I would have made that choice if life had stayed "normal".
I often see Patrick's traits in my boys.
Logan is a perfectionist. He likes things to be done a certain way. He likes knowing every detail. He also wants to make sure that you know them to. He will correct you, even on the little unimportant facts.
Asher has a very dry sense of humor. He is very to the point and blunt. Things are cut and dry with him. He also dresses like I remember Patrick dressing. Shirt tucked in (not always anymore) and sock pulled up high.
Connor is Patrick's namesake. He looks like him. He smiles like him. He is joyful and friendly. He is ornery.
They are all 3 unique and fun. I think they would have loved Patrick. Patrick would have loved them. Patrick would have loved all his nephews.
Today as I reflect I am so very thankful for grace. I am thankful for the Christian family I grew up in. I am thankful for my parents and my 2 sisters. I am thankful for health. I am thankful that while time doesn't heal wounds. Jesus does.
I will admit in writing this I was taken back to that 13 year old girl. All those emotions welled up with in me. The difference is the sting of death is no longer there.
I very much look forward to heaven some day. Seeing Patrick and other loved ones again.
I love and miss you little brother.
