Devastated. Paralyzed. Blindsided.
These words don't even begin to describe how I have felt since finding out about Eric.
Two weeks prior to Eric's passing, I was taking a shower when I was struck with a thought:
What if one of your siblings were to pass away? How would you handle it? Would you still love God or be mad?
As
a stay-at-home Mom, I don't often get time to think and when I do have
time to think, I am too tired and tune out to the good old TV. But I get
thinking time when I shower, and this thought really struck me. I
thought, MAYBE it's my post partum anxiety. I seem to get super anxious
about life and death after all my babies, and I had a 3 month old, so I
chalked up the thought to Post Partum anxiety/blues. But not before I
got lost in the idea and fear of it. I remember thinking, what if? Who
would likely go? How? How would I react? I have never lost anyone
incredibly close so I had been blessed to never experience grief, so
would I be in shock, would I CRY?? Would I go into self preservation
mode and deal through this crisis like I do with other things: QUICK and
CALM and LOGICAL. I then self talked myself out of my anxiety. "It's
your WHAT-IF's. It's just anxiety. It's just fear." I looked at all
those around me and reasoned "Death of a sibling isn't likely. It's
likely to be y our parents first". Maybe this was the Holy Spirit
breathing an idea into my mind and heart that would prepare me for days
to follow.
It's been six months and I have avoided
writing about those days and the grief that followed. Partly because I
don't have time to write and process all the feelings when I have three
kids under the age of 4, but because I couldn't handle the emotional and mental beating. So I will
attempt to describe what unfolded and how I have processed.
It was April 7th. We had gotten a very late cold front, so it was unusually cold and dreary that spring day.
The
day Eric was found unresponsive, I had just finished texting Megan
(Eric's wife) about a design element I was looking at incorporating into
my home. Immediately after I texted her, she calls me and says "I guess
you didn't know, but they found Eric passed out (or something along
these lines) in his car and are taking him to the hospital." I was in
shock but immediately I went into panic mode trying to get dressed,
telling myself not to freak out because he could be fine, but wrestled
with the awful pit in my stomach that wanted to consume my entire system
and have me melt down immediately.
I knew I had to go
immediately to the hospital, regardless of how big or small the reason
for him being found in his car. I gathered the hospital information from
Megan as to where we needed to go. He happened to be in the Fort Worth
area which is literally an hour away from my home and equally just as
far from his home. Megan was at home with their newborn when she
received the call. She told me her dad was on his way to pick her up and
she would be heading to the hospital immediately upon her father's
arrival.
I was at home alone with all three of my kids waiting for Ricky to bring back some
lunch. At this point, Ricky was unaware of what happened. I immediately
started getting dressed as it w
when I received the call while I as around noon, (we drag our feet to get
dressed in our home on the weekends). I first made a call to my mother
in law to ask if she could rush over because Eric was in the hospital
and I had no idea as to his status. I then hung up and called Ricky to
rush home from picking up lunch because we had to leave to Fort Worth to
see Eric immediately.
Those 20-30 minutes of waiting
for my village to arrive were gut wrenching. Nobody had any information
as to Eric's condition since we all live on the far North side of the
Dallas Metroplex and Eric happened to be going to ONE job for the day
somewhere outside of Fort Worth. We later found out he was found at the
entrance of a storage unit in Saginaw, TX.
I had the
feeling in the pit of my stomach like I have never experienced in my
life. I was scared, I was anxious and knew every minute I had to wait
would feel like an eternity on top of the drive there. I had to pack a
diaper bag for my not yet 4 month old, and packed enough to be there for
the entire day. And I began to call my remaining siblings that I knew
probably didn't know anything.
God did put all things into motion that day, without a doubt.
That
morning hours before the call, Ricky happened to head out the door early to go buy a few
things in Dallas to transition our kids into new beds and to finish
setting up Isabella's room. And as fate would have it that morning, his
car radiator hose broke and he had to pull over about 10 miles from our
home. His father was at the lake and his mother was thankfully at home. I
kept telling Ricky that I could pick him up with the kids but he
insisted in my staying at home and allowing his mother to pick him up
since he was down the street from his parents' home. This is really the
first time his truck had a need for a repair and "broken" to the point
that he had to wait for a tow truck to take his car to a mechanic.
It
was a chaotic morning and Ricky literally had time to come home and
pick up a very late lunch for us. On his way to pick up lunch is when I
received the phone call. I can't dismiss the coincidence of having our
plans changed due to the truck breaking down and the "luck" of having at
least one of his parents in town. I truly believe that God's hand was
in the entire day. Had that not happened, Ricky would have been much
farther away and he would have had to spend additional time unloading
the truck before being able to take me to the hospital.
They found him passed out.
That's
what I remember hearing, though I may have interpreted her words
incorrectly. Maybe she said unconscious, I don't know. At this point, I
am not sure, but I remember riding in the backseat with my newborn while
Ricky drove and talking to Ricky about "finding him passed out is not a
good sign. It's got to be serious." And the entire ride I was thinking,
"maybe they found a tumor or cancer that finally was interfering with
some important functioning, so we would have an uphill battle". That was
the "worst case scenario" I was expecting. I was trying to prepare
myself for some bad news, but never did I anticipate how the next few
hours would unfold.Never did I anticipate that it was worse than my worst case scenario.
Minutes
from arriving to the hospital, my older brother, Alvaro, texted the
group and said he was the first at the hospital and that they were
cleaning up Eric.
Hearing that just threw my mind into
a whirl spin and I asked what he was talking about (because my mind went
into panic mode). Clean up? Why would they need to clean up?
And then Alvaro texted the group that they got his heart running again but he was still not awake.
I felt my world crashing. Never did I expect that his heart had stopped unexpectedly.
When I finally arrived to the emergency room, that's when I was told that Eric had been found "unresponsive" and that it took 24 minutes
to get his heart up and running. They weren't sure what was causing
it. We were told that his prognosis was not good and that we needed to
prepare for the worst.
Probably the most surreal
moments I have experienced. I was definitely in shock and I didn't know
how to feel. Alvaro (the realist) tried to encourage me to stay
optimistic and I turned around and basically said, I want to be
optimistic but I am also being a realist. Surely Eric would wake from
this. He had to. He was too young. And God couldn't possibly allow Megan
to have heartache so soon after her mother's death. No. Not possible.
Once
they transferred him to the Cardio ICU, the neurosurgeon gathered the
entire family into a conference room filled with windows from floor to
ceiling and chairs all around the room. He told us (as gently as one
can) that basically Eric's brain was so severely damaged from the lack
of oxygen for so long that he was certain that he had little brain
function left. I believe the term was hypoxia. We wouldn't know the
extent of damage or brain function until he woke up. IF he woke up.
The surgeon told us that we needed to think about "what would Eric want?" in terms of life support and organ donation.
Seeing
Eric in the hospital bed was hard; tubes coming out of his nose and mouth, all sorts
of electrodes attached to his scalp, so many machines at his side, the
sound of a ventilator pressing air into his lungs, the soft beeping
coming from the machines, all in attempt to provide us with some answers
as to what happened, what may happen, and what his body was doing at
that very moment.
It was hard to see my little brother in that condition.
I
was afraid to leave that hospital and to leave Fort Worth. I was afraid
that I would be at least an hour away from getting to his bedside if he
didn't make it, and I wouldn't be able to live with myself had I not
been close. When they finally decided to cool his body, they told us we
could not interact with Eric or give him any reason to move or wake.
They wanted to preserve all his oxygen for the brain and allow the brain
to heal without having to work hard to keep the rest of his organs
functioning.
We prayed for a miracle, and hoped that God would be gracious enough to grant us the miracle.
I
had to return home to get more clothes and pack a bag for my infant, so
as they cooled his body, I decided to rush back home and be back within
a few hours.
On our drive back, my husband
accidentally turned the radio and it landed on a Catholic radio station.
I listened intently and ironically they were talking about MIRACLES.
Surely, this message was for me! The host said that we ought to pray for
Miracles with EXPECTATION. We expect it...which is more than HOPING,
because we BELIEVE it WILL be done. So I tried to apply that to Eric.
And I prayed with expectation.
We returned to the hospital and I waited with hope that Eric would open his eyes once they were done cooling him.
That
evening we decided to get a hotel nearby to allow my infant to get
rest. We left very late and I finally got to close my eyes around
midnight. The minute I closed my eyes, I saw the image of Eric in the
hospital room, but not in his current condition, but of him standing and
peaking his head from behind the hospital curtain and giving me his
playful teasing smile. I immediately opened my eyes and new something
was not right. Within a couple of hours, my sister called and sobbed
through the words that we needed to rush back to the hospital and that
they think Eric was gone but we wouldn't know until they brought him
back to normal body temperature.
They almost called
code blue. Eric's blood pressure had sky rocketed sometime around 4 am
then bottomed out before it somehow regulated itself. But after this,
there was no more brain activity being detected on the monitor and we
were advised that as soon as he was warmed back to room temperature, he
would likely flat-line.
We called all his friends who
had just left the hospital, some back to Lubbock (5 hours away) and told
them he was probably gone and if they wanted to say goodbye, that this
would be the time.
They warmed him, but he never flatline. HOPE right?
Unfortunately,
they ran all the tests to determine if brain death had occured. And he
failed every test. His heart was in excellent condition (and continues
to beat on in someone else through organ donation). But his brain no
longer sent the message to his lungs to keep breathing. He no longer had
the brain function to support his life and the hospital was required to
call Time of Death.
Even with a Time of Death, I still
clung to the hope of a miracle. With organ donation, he would be "kept
alive" for up to 3 days until they roled him away into the OR. I clung
to the very hope that he would wiggle his toe, move his finger, blink an
eye, or even better, wake up fully. I didn't need a FULL miracle if
even the small one meant that he COULD recover even if 50% to his normal
state.
Three days of having to plan a funeral and hope
that it was all just "in case" he didn't wake, because God SURELY would
perform a miracle. He wouldn't have Eric enter into the hospital
exactly 1 year after his mother-in-law for no coincidental reason,
right?
Denial. It's a beast.
Friday,
we were informed that they finally were able to book an OR for 5 pm
that evening. A terrible thunderstorm was expected, with hail and
possible tornadoes. We had to drive all the way to Fort Worth and avoid
traffic on a Friday afternoon in downtown Fort Worth and hopefully make
it before a terrible storm. We saw the flag flown at the hospital in
honor of Eric's donation, but still I prayed that he would come to right
before the final moment.
As we drove into the
hospital, my sister and I, I went into a full panic attack and broke
down crying. This COULD NOT be the last time I would see Eric. This
could not be Goodbye. It just couldn't be.
All those days of even a
little bit of hope came crumbling down and I have never felt so awful
in my life. My heart was racing, my stomach in knots, I felt like
throwing up, I wanted to collapse on the floor and poor out every ounce
of water in my being through tears like the Niagra Falls.
I
was so tired of crying. So tired of hoping. So tired of waiting for a
Miracle but for it to not come: or come how I envisioned. I had to
accept God's will as painful as it was. I had to say goodbye to all the
time I thought we would have, all the memories I thought we would make
having our baby girls only a few months apart, and goodbye to an idea I
had envisioned.
But I knew that he was still a miracle to someone else
and that another family would not have to feel our pain because Eric was
their miracle. His death now had more meaning to it and the cause of
our grief would at least bring someone else joy and LIFE.
As
they rolled Eric away through the long hall that I had walked through
for days, we followed behind until they told us we could no longer
follow. We saw him rolled away, but I felt proud that he was giving
others another chance at life. But I was so heartbroken and in shock
that this was it. This was goodbye. I would never again hear him laugh. I
would never again get to get on his nerve for being a big sister and
telling him to put his damn phone down or to quit being lazy. I wouldn't
get to talk to him and guide him on how to handle his anger or sadness
with life's obstacles. We wouldn't get to brainstorm on our crazy
ideas. I would no longer get to shed tears of joy for all his life's
accomplishments.
My role as big sister changed that day.
Losing
Eric was like a HUGE part of me also dying. The part of me that only
Eric could bring out. I am not me without Eric having a vital role.
Sure, I was his sister, but we were friends and many times through our
life, we depended on each other. I have a LIFETIME of memories that
involve him, good and bad and some really funny. From childhood
playmates, to rivaling siblings, to us figuring out our purpose in life:
To Love and Serve the Lord and to lead others to Christ. And to both
loving the Catholic church together and sharing so many friends through
our time through college together.
I am beyond proud
of his legacy...and love that he was so loved despite his "boastful"
ways. Because behind some of those boasts, he really was a humble person
who loved deeply and wanted for people to know and love God above all
else (Even more than a possible Cowboys winning season).
May you be dancing with Michael Jackson before the heavenly King. May your light and legacy shine on
