Second, this blog has sort of become a journal of sorts. Therefore, sometimes there will be a post more for me to remember than for anything else. If you enjoy reading them, that's an added bonus. :)
I've known the Browns since I was three and a half and Michael was six. We moved across the street from them 6 months later, right after my brother died. Michael was in elementary school and I was still in preschool...and I would sit in front of the big window in our living room frequently and wait for that big yellow school bus to drop him off in the afternoon. I would wait till he ran inside and immediately go ask my mom if we could see if he could come out and play. :} I can remember her telling me to give him thirty minutes to breathe and let his mom see him... thirty minutes is an eternity when you are four! Then I started homeschooling in 3rd grade...and six weeks later, so did Michael. His sister used to babysit me...and now we're good friends. His brother used to terrify me and was the last person to still call me Katie...but now I think he's awesome. :} So his family was pretty much a part of my every day life from the time I was four until we moved to Kville when I was twenty two. We grew up with his mom and my mom doing school with us, taking us to piano practices, going on walks together, etc. We have done Christmas together for I don't even know how long. Even after our families moved, our parents are still only five minutes from each other.
All that to say that Michael's family is our family too. So when Mrs. Brown was diagnosed with PCA...that eventually pretty much turned itself into Alzheimer's, it was hard on all of us. It was not easy to watch my best friend's mom, who had always been so kind, sweet, funny, and gentle, disappear into a body that could do nothing for herself and a mind that could no longer hold the memories of family and friends. But through the years, Michael's dad was by her side. He would set her on the couch in the living room or in her chair and feed her and care for her. He is an incredible example of "for better or worse, in sickness and in health." And if nothing else, this whole time has brought glory to God simply by the example he has set by loving his wife.
I got an email from Michael's sister on Feb. 24th asking us to be praying for their family since it looked like her mom would be going home soon. After that, every text I would get from Michael made me nervous, although, really, I knew he would call with any important news or details. Then, that Friday, I went to mom's house for dinner with the Wilsons and realized I had missed a call from him - with no voice mail message - on the way over. I tried not to let my mind go crazy after leaving him a message telling him to call me back. An hour later he finally text to say that everything was fine and he had just called to say hi. :-p
A week later on Sunday, mom took dinner over to the Browns' house and we ate lunch together after church. It's always great to be together although that day the "when?" was in the back of everyone's mind.
Michael's sister and family came the next night and Michael took off school for the week. Mrs. Brown hadn't had anything to eat or drink since about Friday, March 5th. David and his family came Thursday evening, March 11th and got to see their mom/grandmother one more time. They told her it was ok for her to go...and she did, around 1-1:30am Friday, March 12th.
Michael called to let me know early Friday morning. After my asking how he was doing, he very sweetly turned the question around and asked how I was doing since "she was half your mom too." I told him I was fine at that moment...since he woke me up when he called (I'm glad he did...) and I was only half awake at that point. :} It wouldn't hit me fully till much later.
Friday I was of course with my kids all day. Saturday, I went and grabbed my other favorite girls (M's nieces) and we went to play glow-in-the-dark puttputt to give the grownups a little breathing room with only the three boys to chase after instead of all 7 kiddos...and to get the kids out for a while.
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This day always brings back memories. Some of which I myself remember. Others I have only been told about. Instead of describing that day, I am going to post an essay that I wrote in higschool...and again for a couple assignments in college.
Oct. 10, 1997
ARMS OF LOVE
Sunday, February 17, 1985, dawned bright and clear with the hope of good things to come. Little did I know how in a few short minutes my life would be changed forever.
Mom, Dad, and I were sitting at the breakfast table enjoying homemade pancakes with syrup oozing over them and a glass of cold orange juice to wash it all down. Mom looked at her watch and asked Dad to go check on my 17 - month - old brother, Peter, who was sleeping later than usual. The next sound we heard was Dad shouting and yelling, "Oh, no! Oh, no!" With a chill running down her spine, Mom rushed back, took one look at Peter's cold, stiff little body and the blood trickling from his nose, and ran back to the kitchen to call 911 as Dad started CPR. As she knelt on the floor, I clung to her, crying. My 4-year-old mind couldn't comprehend everything that was going on, but I knew something terrible must have just happened to make my parents cry.
After what seemed an eternity, the police and paramedics rushed in and took over the CPR, but in vain; Peter was gone. The paramedics soon wheeled him out on a stretcher. The police stayed to get more information and to give what comfort they could.
For a long time, Dad held me on his lap as he and Mom sat on the foot of my double bed. One kind officer handed Dad a wet washcloth to wipe off some blood had gotten on his cheek. Dad then handed me my brown teddy bear; a bear that would bring comfort in the days and weeks ahead as I feared the night and wondered why this event happened.
Now, years later, I understand that Peter died from Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS) and although I am sometimes curious about how it would be if Peter were alive, I know that God had his loving arms around the whole event. I can be content in the knowledge that because I have trusted in Jesus' death on the cross and dying for my sins, I will one day see Peter in Heaven.
The details that I don't remember myself are that the Browns came and took me to McDonald's for lunch that day. Michael and I had such a good time playing on the playground that I forgot all about what had happened that morning and the first thing I asked when I came home was, "Where's Peter??"
Because it was so long ago and I was so little, February 17th is not a sad day anymore. Just a day to remember my sweet, blue eyed, curly blond-haired little brother. :) As I'm writing this, I have realized that I don't actually own a picture of Peter myself. I will have to try to get one from my mom soon and post it.
