The Day that Changed Everything

For the last few days, I have had the thought that I needed to share my story. The story that changed everything. It changed how I viewed life, people, love, etc, but most of all, it changed me. This story took 2 years for me to even to be able to start to write down, and still is hard for me to talk about, and most of this story has never been shared with anyone. Hopefully, this will show you why I am the way that I am. Hopefully, it will show you why I am trying to be better, why I care too much, why I try to let people know that I love them, and why I know without a doubt, that God lives.

4 years ago

Thursday, May 26, 2011

We got to babysit Brigham for a little bit, and I was headed to my ward’s activity at the fish hatchery and I was frustrated because every time I would hand Brigham to Stacie so I could leave, he would start being fussy and cry. Stacie kept telling me to take him back whenever he did it, and when I would take him back he was completely fine. I was so frustrated because I was going to be late. (Walking out that door, was and still is one of my very few regrets that I have, but how could I have know what was going to happen?)

On Friday, May 27, 2011
The next day, around 5:00 in the afternoon, I was in my mom’s bedroom looking for ribbon or something by her TV. The house phone rang and I answered and my Mom was on the other end. She asked me if my brother and his kids were at the house. I told her no and she proceeded to ask me again, almost pleading, begging me to tell her that the kids were with me. Again, I told her no and she mentioned something about telling her it was a joke or Ben playing a joke. I asked her what was going on, sensing that there was something very wrong. (My mom was not acting like herself. It was like she was having a panic attack on the inside) She told me Ben was on the way to the hospital in an ambulance with Brigham. Briana had put Brigham down for a nap and went in to check on him, he was blue and not breathing. She told me it wasn’t good and told me to pray when I asked her what I could do.

I don’t know if I have ever prayed so hard in my life up until then. I hung up with my Mom and ran to tell my Dad that we needed to leave immediately to go to the hospital. I was so hopeful at this point, I  had a feeling that everything was going to be fine. I was in shock, nothing seemed to really register to my brain quite yet. While I was waiting for my Dad, my Mom called back. When the phone rang, I knew it was my mom. I answered again, this time, whatever strength my mom’s voice had with the first call was completely gone.  All she said was, “Ben called…Brigham didn’t make it”. These were the worst words that I could have ever heard coming from my mom. I heard the pain. I heard the fear. I heard everything through those few words. Before she could say anything else, I told her to stay where she was and that I would be there as fast as my car would take me. I couldn’t bear hearing my mom in any more pain.

I ran downstairs and met my dad in the front room, and I told him mom just called again, Brigham didn’t make it. We need to get to mom. I knew she couldn't be alone. I’m not sure who told my brother Jason, but I called my sister, Stacie, who was at work. I couldn’t bear anyone else getting hurt, so I didn't give Stacie the option of meeting us at the hospital. I told her we would pick her up at work on our way. I didn’t want anyone driving alone to the hospital being upset.

Dad and I took my car and went to mom’s work. She was waiting for us outside the building. I moved to the back seat so she could sit up front by my dad. We were just turning onto 2^nd street from BDO, when my mom called my aunt Cathy to tell her what was going on, but she didn’t answer, so she called my cousin Tiffany. My mom could barely talk. She couldn’t get any words out to tell Tiff the news, she couldn't say it, as if saying it made nightmare real. So she handed the phone over to me. I'm sure my words sounded empty and hollow as I talked with Tiffany, telling her what I knew and asking her if she could bring our grandma up to the hospital. I was completely numb.  I was still in shock, slowly coming to the realization of this nightmare. It felt like I was living someone else’s life. I was in a movie. Things like this don’t happen to me.

On our way to the hospital, we had to pick up my niece and nephew, Aubrey and Tyson, at their neighbor’s house and get the car seats. Mom told me to run and get the seats and as I jumped out of the car and headed to the house, I was stopped by a police officer who told me I couldn’t go in the house. I remember feeling dumbfounded. Didn’t he know that it was an emergency? I needed to get into the house. I needed the car seats. He sent in one of the officers to get the seats for me. (I was so in shock that I didn’t even fathom that the police would have to be investigating the death of my nephew. It wasn’t a crime scene! But of course, rules must be followed and I remember being a little offended that the police would even think that this was anything but an accident. Once I was able to think clearly, I was able to be grateful for them and the work that they had done.)

Because my car only seats five people and we still had to go pick up Stacie, we realized that we didn’t have enough room in my car for all of us and the kids. Ben and Briana’s neighbor, who was watching their kids, and who also happened to be a police officer, offered to take one of us to the hospital. I volunteered. My family shouldn’t be separated from each other. I chose to ride with a complete stranger so my family could be together. I got in his truck and I think we followed my car to Macey’s to pick up Stacie and then on to the hospital. He offered me a tissue and tried to make small talk about me and school. I couldn’t really say much.

We pulled up to the ER parking and Ben and Bri met us in the hallway. I looked at them and wondered why they were calm. We all walked back to the waiting room. I’m pretty sure it was a room where they let families grieve. It was a small pink-ish hued room with couches that lined the walls and tissue boxes. I think after we sat in this room for a bit, it finally hit me…The realization of what was actually happening hit me, and I didn’t like it at all. Aubrey and Tyson were in the room with us, running around, being busy as usual. I think if they weren’t there everything would have felt much worse, much faster. I remember looking around and everyone, including Bri’s parents. I remember seeing my dad cry. I remember looking Stacie in the eyes and both of us crying. Everyone’s eyes were puffy. But I still wondered how Ben and Bri were so calm. I don’t remember seeing them cry that day. Ben and Bri went out into the hall way and I remember hearing Briana sob. That is another one of those things that was incredibly painful to hear. It echoed into our room and broke my heart. But when I saw them again, it was as if it never happened.

Tiffany brought my grandma up and Jason came too. I remember Tiffany’s eyes were red and puffy from crying.

A nurse or a doctor told us we could go say goodbye to Brigham and that we could hold him if we wanted. I shook my head and didn’t move from my corner chair, next to the table with a box of tissues. I wasn't ready to say goodbye. I knew I couldn’t handle it, but my mom said that I should go hold him. My sister and I were the last ones as we walked down the long, echoing hallway. When I reached the room that he was in, I glanced in and saw him. I never neared the doorway. When I looked in, my mom was holding him. He was so pale. So lifeless. Brigham wasn’t in there. His body had been intubated and wrapped in a white and blue towel-like blanket. It didn’t look soft or comfy at all. I took all of this in, in a matter of a few seconds and after those few seconds, I ran, stumbling back to the grieving room. I couldn’t take any more. It was all too much. I couldn't handle it. I was not strong enough for this. I think Stacie followed me.

After that most things were a blur at the hospital. We got home and everyone went into their separate rooms and stayed there. No one talked. No one spoke. I don’t think I have ever heard my house being so loud with pain and sadness through utter and complete silence. No one was sleeping. We were all awake the whole night, soaking in the dark. My mom wasn’t snoring. Stacie didn’t have a tv on and my dad wasn’t walking around the house like he usually does at night. It was so loud and yet so incredibly silent.

The last thing that I wanted was to be away from my family, even though we didn’t even sit in the same room and I didn’t really want to talk to anyone either.Two days later Sunday came (May 29th), I was planning on going to my parents ward, but something kept pushing me to go to my own ward, I didn’t want to go there. My family wasn’t there, but I went. I never thought that going to church would be so hard...I didn't let any tears fall...only because I wiped them away before anyone could see.

 I went to church and I don’t remember any of the lessons. I looked up scriptures about death and about the death of a child, anything to bring some sort of comfort to me. I told people who asked that I was okay, but honestly, I wasn’t. I was dying inside. My mind was peeling away from my body and peeling away from everything around me, but I wasn’t about to let anyone know that. I had to be strong for my family. I had to be strong for my mom.

Sunday night my brother stopped by and helped me to understand a little bit more as to what was happening. I didn't tell him that I was struggling. I didn't tell anyone. I think maybe I was trying to be strong for everyone else, and I guess I figured that if I told everyone I was doing good, then maybe I'd start to believe it too. Ben shared one of his journal entries with me that night that helped me to understand a little bit more about Brigham and the Plan of Salvation.

May 31, The day before the funeral:
 Jared brought us cookies and asked me if I wanted to go see the last Pirates of the Caribbean movie. We had already seen it and for some reason, I went. I didn’t really want to go; I just wanted to do what I had been doing for the last week, which was stay home. I think he was just trying to show me that he was there for me and that he cared. We went and there were only like 4 people in the theater, including us. Someone was trying to call Jared, but his phone wasn’t working, so he took mine and walked out to make the phone call. This was the first time that I had been left alone, with no one near me that I knew. I felt so alone and I cried. I cried in the theater until Jared came back.

Funeral/Viewing day: June 1, one week before my 21 birthday

I had never seen such a tiny casket, and I never want to see one again. I looked at Brigham in the casket and it looked nothing like him. I knew he wasn’t there. It was almost as if it was someone else’s child in there. Ben gave the family prayer before closing the casket and some of us knelt. Ben asked if he could kneel and said we didn’t have to kneel…I fell to my knees. They pretty much collapsed from under me and I hit the floor.

Ben asked if I would be the chorister at the funeral. It was hard being alone, sitting in front of a bunch of people that I didn't know. I couldn’t sing any of the songs and the tears kept flowing during the hymns. Briana sang the song ‘Be Still My Soul’. I had never heard a song sung with such heart and spirit. It was incredibly beautiful, and that song still haunts me to this day. I can’t sing it. All I can do is cry, although I am getting better at holding back my tears when we sing it at church. It is a powerful song and very beautiful, but it brings back memories of the funeral and the pain and sadness that came with it.

While people were giving their talks (and I sitting on the stand crying in front of everyone, wishing someone was sitting by me), I felt someone sitting behind me and to the left one seat. A large hand rested on my left shoulder a few times. I turned around to look, but no one was there. I glanced behind me a few more times just to make sure. I have no doubt that it was Brigham. I never really thought about it until later, but it was an adult hand, not the hand of a child on my shoulder. I had never thought about him being older. He was just a baby to me. I had only known him as a child, and yet I knew it was his hand on my shoulder.

My dad carried the casket. This is an image that I can't un-see. It is burned into my memory.

It is the smallest casket I have ever seen...

Cemetery:

There is that tiny casket again…Ben jumped in the grave to set the casket down in it. A few of us stayed behind and watched the tractor dump dirt on top of the casket. That is also something I can’t un-see.  My grandma Baker was sobbing and saying that it just wasn’t fair and that it was "too final". I hugged her and told her it would be okay, even though I wasn’t sure I believed it myself. I also told her that it definitely wasn't the end. I don't know why, but I did. Maybe it was something she needed to hear.

I hugged Briana for the first and only time at the cemetery and I told her that I loved her. I remember her face when I said it. I think she was shocked to hear me say it.

Beginning to heal:

For a few weeks, I stayed home, some days I just stayed in bed. I was lying in bed one afternoon, just thinking and crying. Asking why and praying for peace. That was the first time I prayed to feel peace. As soon as I prayed, I felt calm, I felt like my mind and body were one again instead of the mess that they were becoming on the inside. While I was asking questions and begging for answers, I asked why. Why did this have to happen? I couldn’t do this. It is too much. Why me? When I asked why me, the answer came. ‘Because you were chosen.” It wasn’t quite spoken out loud, but it definitely wasn’t silent. Those words were not my own. At all.

 Because I was chosen? That was definitely not something that I would not have come up with on my own. I was chosen to go through this trial. I was chosen to be Brigham’s aunt. I was chosen, just as Ben and Bri were chosen to be Briggy’s parents. Just as my Mom was chosen to be his grandma. I was chosen because I could do it. I would be given the strength to overcome it. It was all part of the plan of salvation. That was the first time that I had felt that the plan of salvation was an actual plan. It was real. There really is a plan, and in that plan, I was chosen. I was actually picked specifically to be part of that plan. Heavenly Father knew that He needed a family that would be strong enough to endure the trial of Brigham returning back home and that is why He chose us. He knew that we would grow and be strong enough in the end. He knew that Brigham's passing would hurt, but it would also bring us closer to Christ.

Ladybugs:

I had just finished mowing my Grandma Baker’s lawn and noticed that she had some weeds in her flower garden, so I started pulling them out, enjoying the sunshine and the feel of the freshly cut grass on my bare feet. As I was pulling, a ladybug came and landed on my hand and as I looked down on this beautiful creature, I smiled and without thinking, said, ‘Hi, Brigham’. It was just another one of those moments when I knew he was just stopping by to say hello to me.

There have been a few other times when lady bugs have randomly showed up. I had one crawling on my arm in my bedroom one night in the middle of the winter. A while later I found that same lady bug in my bedroom, but it had died and I started crying. Other times, someone else randomly shows me that a ladybug has landed on them and it always makes me smile, just knowing that he is here and that he still cares about me, just to stop and say hi. 

Losing a loved one who is elderly is completely different than losing one who has yet to experience life. I have lost many people that I love, and losing Brigham was the most difficult. It was determined that Brigham died from SIDS. Basically, he stopped breathing and they don't know why. I will forever be grateful for the lessons that I learned from this hard experience. I will forever be grateful for those people who held me together when I couldn't do it myself and for those who stood by me as I fell apart. I am forever grateful for my family and for my Savior, Jesus Christ for showing me how much I have to be grateful for, and helping me to become stronger that I thought I could be, for overcoming my impossibles, and for never abandoning me, even when I deserved it.