It was about 5:30 am on Sunday, December 15th. Jacob had just been rushed down for a CT scan. Results of the scan indicated that it would be the last day of Jacob’s earthly mission. James and I were in total shock, barely able to breathe. As we tried to determine what our next steps would be, James turned to me and said, “Call Dad.”
James and I have put this blog together to help us heal. We also want to be able to read our thoughts and feelings in the future. It will contain some of our most painful moments. But, we also want it to contain the blessings that we felt through our darkest hours. This post is about the blessing of family.
When I called my parents’ home that Sunday morning, no one answered. I immediately called my brother who lives 15 minutes from my parents in Colorado. He quickly rushed to my parents’ home to deliver the news.
My father holds numerous titles, degrees and awards. He is truly one of the most accomplished and educated individuals that I know. He has always told his children that his favorite title is that of father. His actions have always validated that sentiment. That Sunday was no different. My father made the long trip to Utah and walked into Jacob’s hospital room that evening, just one hour before Jacob took his last breath. He remained by our sides the rest of week.
I am the oldest of five children. None of us live in the same state. It has always been extremely difficult to get everyone together. I knew that an unplanned trip to Utah just six days before Christmas seemed almost impossible for my siblings and their families and I was prepared to have many loved ones absent as we laid Jacob to rest.
One of my sisters and her three children had arrived in Colorado only the night before Jacob’s last day. She had gone to spend Christmas with my parents since her husband was deployed with the military and would continue to be so for several months. On Tuesday, she packed up my parents’ car with her three little children and she and my mother made the long drive to Utah. Once here, she worked tirelessly to provide photos to display at Jacob’s funeral, go shopping with my daughters for clothes for the funeral, clean my house, and take pictures of Jacob’s funeral. Through incredible circumstances, her husband was also able to be at Jacob’s funeral; although he would have to immediately return to Siberia to finish his deployment and miss Christmas with his wife and three tiny children.
My other sister had just moved to Chicago with her husband’s new job. We believed that the financial strain on purchasing last-minute plane tickets for them and their three children would prevent them from coming. However, they decided that they were not going to miss their opportunity to say goodbye to Jacob and offer us their support. Due to severe weather, their plane was stranded over night at one of their layovers. They were completely exhausted, but arrived just moments before the visitation and funeral on Wednesday. On Friday, the day after the funeral, all of our other family members left except for them. James and I were completely drained and were beyond exhausted, both physically and emotionally. My sister and her husband took our children for three days and fed and cared for them. They even took them sledding and swimming. They were able to be strong for our children when we were weak. They gave them what we were unable to give.
My brother from Colorado drove in with his family arriving the night before Jacob’s funeral. I will always remember leaning on my brother for support and feeling his strength during a particularly difficult moment. We had just been told that it was time to close Jacob’s casket and make the long walk down to the chapel. Having been at the visitation for several hours, I needed a moment in the restroom. My brother recognized that I was physically weak and offered to help walk me to the bathroom. Once we entered the hall, I heard the harp prelude music from the chapel and a flood of emotion overtook me. I seriously doubted my ability to continue with the arrangements. I knew that once I returned from my trip to the restroom, I would kiss my baby for the last time and close his casket. I had been dreading this moment the entire week and it was now right in front of me. My knees buckled and I couldn’t walk or breathe. My little brother put his arm around me and let me lean on him as he supported me on my errand. I desperately needed his strength.
My youngest brother and his wife are stationed in Texas and not only did they arrive for the funeral with their baby, but my brother returned twice in the next two months to help us. He was here to be the “fun uncle” when we celebrated Jeffrey’s birthday just three weeks later. He spent an entire Saturday, starting at 5:00 a.m., driving our children to their activities, watching sporting events, building a snowman and taking them on individual lunch dates. He was there as I decided to place Jacob’s coat, the blue coat that we brought with us for Jacob to wear when we picked him up in from China and that he wore until his last car ride to Primary Children’s, into a storage box for safe keeping. He held me as I held that little blue coat and sobbed until I couldn’t see.
My sweet mother is suffering from severe health issues. Traveling is difficult for her. However, she made the long ten hour car ride with my sister to be by my side. Having her support meant so much to me. After the funeral, we returned to the church for a meal prepared by our dear friends. Michael had enjoyed the meal and had confused a nervous stomach with a hungry stomach. Having overeaten, he went out to the church foyer and got very sick. I have certainly cleaned up a goodly share of children’s bodily messes in my life, but as I stood there looking at this one, I was stymied. James and I were so exhausted; we had no idea what to do. My mother informed us that she would take care of Michael and the mess and sent us home. I know that job was extremely unpleasant and I am so grateful that she took care of my sweet son when I couldn’t.
Our church has a slogan that it uses on TV and radio advertisements to promote the importance of families, “Family…it’s about time.” I believe that family relations are built when we spend quality time together, having fun and making memories. But I also believe that having the love and support of family during the most difficult and life-changing times is irreplaceable. When I recall the events of the week that we buried our Jacob, I remember that my family made unbelievable sacrifices to be there, quietly lifting, supporting, and loving. That is a gift for which I feel blessed beyond measure. I will also recall that when our precious son joined our family and was sealed to us, they were there as well. To me, the slogan “Family….it’s about time” not only represents the knowledge that we will always be there for each other, during both the good and the difficult times but also that our family is eternal. We are a forever family and our “time” together will never end. For that, I am eternally grateful.
