An Easter Egg

Two days ago, my granddaughter turned one.

Two days ago, my oldest daughter’s best friend, Bri, suddenly went home to be with Jesus. 

One is just getting comfortable taking her first steps.

The other got up to get ready for work, took those first steps here on earth, and then found herself unexpectedly walking with Jesus. 

Two momentous events on the same day.  One inspiring great joy, excitement, and hope.  The other conjuring great sorrow, disbelief, and hopelessness.

Unexpected  News

I was in the midst of packing up for eight of us to head south that night for Spring Break  when I got the call from a family friend that she’d seen a FB post that Bri was on life support at the hospital after being found unconscious in her room that morning.  I was told “it doesn’t look good”.  Life support so very rarely is.  No one knew what happened.  No one saw it coming.  I told my daughter, Syd, and she hit up hers and Bri’s friend network to see if any of them had any more answers.  No one did.  We all ended up heading to the hospital.  Hours later, Bri’s mom was able to tell me that Bri had suffered an aneurysm in her brain stem shortly after waking up that morning.   

There’s no coming back from that.

Hospital protocol demanded at least 24 hours on life support before letting her body go, but for all intents and purposes, the intrinsic things that made Bri, Bri were already gone, and her shell was just being kept in decent condition for her to help other dying kids elsewhere.

When You Can’t Fix It

All of us in law enforcement at some time or other must make death notifications.  Somehow, we need to impart the worst news imaginable to (mostly) total strangers, and then somehow leave them to deal with the aftermath without being able to “fix” anything.  It goes against every officer’s makeup to be in this role.  We’re protectors, we’re fixers.  We try to make things better, solve problems, and bring calm to the storm. 

We can’t do that with death notifications.

Telling Syd and all of her and Bri’s friends that Bri wouldn’t be waking up ever again is now   right up there in the top ten of my shittiest life moments. 

It brought me right back to every death notification I’ve ever had to give.  Having all of those swirling around in my head like a morbid carousel just made things so much better.  Yay for sympathetic trauma responses and cumulative PTSD.   

Re-living those experiences can suck you down a dark hole so quickly. 

We got home late and I got back into the business of packing.  Syd elected to stay home, for obvious reasons.  I made sure she wasn’t going to be left alone – Thank God for steadfast friendships, both hers and mine.  Making the decision to continue with our trip plans was so incredibly difficult.  Half of my heart wanted to stay home with Syd and Bri’s family while they waited for the inevitable conclusion to all this. 

The other half recognized that Syd’s younger siblings and their three friends who were vacationing with us didn’t deserve to have their trip cancelled because of another family’s horrible misfortune.  My husband had already left that morning with all of our luggage, electing to go halfway, hotel it for the night, then continue on the next day.  Syd was supposed to be my co-pilot, trading off with me so we could drive straight through the night, getting that 15 hour car ride done with in one shot and (hopefully) zero traffic jams.

Talk about finding oneself stuck between rocks and hard places. 

We left at midnight. 

There’s a lot of time for reflection when you’re the only vehicle on the road, all is dark, and all is quiet because everyone but you is fast asleep. 

There’s a lot of time to remember.  Both good things and bad things. 

There’s a lot of time to pray.  To cry.  To feel.  To pray some more.  To re-pack the bad things back in the mental box, maybe a little more orderly and compacted this time. 

Easter Morning

The sun came up, and it was Easter Sunday.  And I got to thinking.  What was it like for the disciples in the days after Jesus rose?  He was there with them, but He wasn’t.  He certainly wasn’t planning to stay.  Was their sorrow at His death just dragged out, as Bri’s loved ones was, waiting for those machines to get disconnected and turned off?  Or was it tempered, because they got to spend some more time with Him, ask him those last-minute questions, have those conversations with Him they used to think they’d have in the future?  The future.  Because we always think we have more time with the ones we love.  How bittersweet, to get that coveted “more time” with a loved one.  Maybe Jesus knew his closest friends and family would need that in the days, weeks, years, and suffering and persecution to come.     

Two Red Bulls, two enormous cups of coffee, one Java Monster, and a Pink Drink later I got us to Charleston, SC.  Then ate dinner and promptly fell asleep for 13 straight hours. 

Bri’s body was allowed to go into its final sleep just after I woke up.  Syd is doing ok.  I am doing ok.  Ok is okay with me.  But somehow I have to put myself back together enough to enjoy my husband, my other kids, and their friends for the rest of this week.  So it’s back to praying.  It’s back to finding joy in the now.  Giving thanks for what I have.

Father God, You are the Instigator and the Maker of all things.  You knew us before we were even a thought.  It’s Your will when we come to be on this earth, and when we are called home to be with You again.  Thank you for loving us.  Thank you for our time here on earth.  We praise You always.  Thank you for your grace and for giving us the hope and the promise that we’ll see our loved ones who’ve gone before us again.  Help us feel your peace and love until that time for reunification comes.  In Your most holy Name, Amen.         

-Beth