It’s not supposed to happen this way. The baby of the family is never supposed to go first, but we are part of a plan we just can’t understand. At least not now.Last Sunday evening. Awesome youth mass at church. The combination of K serving as Eucharistic minister, Kelli and the kids attending for the first time, the music and the message left everyone emotional with joy. When we returned home, there was a message from our niece Erica on the phone that Denise (T’s youngest sibling) had been rushed to the ER. Difficulty breathing. She’d been under observation for an hour at the hospital. They’d call back soon with an update soon. They did. She’d crashed. The doctors were doing CPR. We jumped in the car and rushed to the hospital, saying the Divine Mercy Chaplet on the way.
We pulled into the ER. Ann (T’s oldest sibling) and her family were sitting on the curb outside, crying. Ann stood up, walked to T, shaking her head. “We lost her,” she said. My heart was breaking as they hugged and sobbed. I knew what they were thinking. I knew their Dad had always told them to watch out for their younger brothers and sister. I knew that Ann had a dream a few years ago after their Mom had passed, in which she and her Mom were sitting together on a bench in the cemetery. “Watch out for Denise,” her Mom had told her. But even when something is beyond our control, even when there is no way we could have done anything differently or affected a different outcome—we still blame ourselves. It is a heavy burden to carry.
There was a blood clot in Denise’s lung. Erica said she’d had some dizziness and even blacked out the day before, but didn’t think much of it. With no insurance, she was hesitant to go get it checked out.
She was just 38. And alone. She’d been so happy being the youngest in a big family. Then, as lives go, her brothers and sisters grew up and moved out. Then their father died. Just a few short years later, they lost their Mom. Denise was married for a short time. She and I had both been pregnant at the same time, 12 years ago. I lost that baby at 13 weeks. Denise carried her little girl to full term, when the baby’s umbilical cord became wrapped around her neck as she moved into position for delivery. Denise delivered her beautiful little Ashley, but would never hear her cry or laugh. Denise lived in a small, furnished studio apartment. Twice, in recent years, she’d jumped on a bus headed for California without even enough money to stay there or get home, never leaving a note to say where she was headed. Later when we asked why, she just said “I just wanted to see California.” Sometimes now I wonder if she knew how little time was left.
So, last week was a long week. But if you have faith, you can see the little miracles amidst the
pain. For me, there was the reuniting of T and his siblings—and even laughter and funny stories. There is the reality check that comes with something like this—that forces you to consider what is most important in life. There are the hugs and “I love you’s” expressed freely, that ordinarily go unsaid. There is the support of people who like you—and, surprisingly, sometimes even from those who don’t. There is the ability to (once again) label those irritating petty things as ridiculous. There are the little angels-on-earth that reach out to you, desperate to comfort you in your pain. And there, crouching in the corner, just waiting for you … whenever you are ready for Him … is God. He knows your suffering like no one else ever could. He wants to remind you that although the journey isn’t always smooth, the landing is.
