I ended my last post to Quincy with the words, We couldn't imagine our lives without you. Two weeks ago today our lives were shattered. I remember it as if it were happening now. Sunday May 6th we were on our way home from an enjoyable vacation with great friends, our first trip without our beautiful darling Quincy. We got a text from a friend wondering where we were and he told us there was an bad accident in Provo canyon. We were just getting to the canyon and decided to keep going. We passed two ambulances and saw life flight and the terrible thought hit me as I said out loud, Wouldn't that be horrible if that was our family? We knew Val and Kathy were on their way up the canyon from a baby blessing to meet up with us to pick up Quincy. Brady quickly dismissed the thought saying that was a horrible thing to think.
About 5 minutes later we got the phone call that no one wants. A horrible accident, head on collision, life flight, one dead. I remember Brady's face as he asked, Was my daughter in the car? and the pain in his eyes and he asked, How is she? I knew it wasn't good as he closed his eyes in pain and put his head back on the seat. My heart sunk. My heart stopped. This wasn't happening, not to us. Speeding to the hospital and passing the horrific scene of the accident I saw my sweet angels car seat on the side of the road, fear flooding through me of the unknown. An image I will never forget. So hard we worked to get this little one here to this earth, an answer to so many prayers. She'll be ok, is what everyone kept telling me. And I believed it.We got to the hospital to find that Kathy had already passed and Q was being loaded into a helicopter to be transported to Primary Children's Hospital. We had just a few quick moments to see her and kiss her and give her a blessing. I was so horrified I didn't even hear a word that was said but was so grateful for that brief moment we had to bless our sweet baby girl.
The next 24 hours were the most tragic, exhausting and horrifying moments of our lives. We spent hours in silent waiting rooms, waiting for news that we didn't want to hear. During that time Brady's father Val also passed away. Something we were somewhat grateful for. He wouldn't have wanted to be without his dear wife Kathy. Our bishopric was at the hospital with us and gave Brady and I blessings before the doctor came in and I knew at that time that Quincy wasn't going to make it. The blessings focused on The Plan of Salvation and blessings that come from tragedies and that Brady and I would make it through this. Those were not the words I wanted to hear. I prayed and I pleaded and I begged with my Father to save my sweet baby girl. I knew He could do it, He wouldn't take all three. Not my baby too. But I wasn't surprised when the doctor came in with the worst news possible, the blessings had prepared us for this. Our sweet little girl was alive, but only because of the machines. Her skull and spine had been separated resulting in massive swelling of the brain, therefore leaving her brain dead. We were left with a choice. How long do we prolong this. When do we let her go. We made the hardest decision a parent should never have to make, to let her spirit free of her broken body. She looked so perfect lying in that bed, not a bruise or a scrape on her tiny, fragile little body.
As I cradled her in my arms for that last hour of her life, an honor my wonderful husband let me have, I couldn't believe this was happening to us. This was the one challenge on this earth I always said I could never overcome. Amongst all the sorrow and tears as I watched the life slip from her body I felt we had made the right decision and there was peace in that room. A peace that everything will be ok. A peace that we will see our darling little spitfire again someday. I have always known this, but it is a knowledge I now treasure more dearly.
As the next week came and went in a blur and funerals were planned, somehow I was ok. We were surrounded by family and friends and there was laughter and reminiscing and I felt like everything was going to be just fine. The triple viewing and funeral went beautifully and the support from family, friends and the community was and has been overwhelming. I cannot believe how much everyone has rallied together for our family. It truly is unbelievable. The love and prayers have been felt and I will never be able to repay everyone for their kindness.
But today, two weeks later, I am hurting. I am not ok. To be in this home without my beautiful baby is just what I never wanted to imagine. I am so horribly sad that I am physically sick and in pain. I wake up every morning realizing this is my reality and I'm not ok with it. I needed that girl so much more than she needed me. She kept me going day to day. Her perfect, flawless spirit was so strong and so alive that I feel dead without her here. I read about people who have lost children and they seem so strong, but I feel so weak. I need her. But as I sit here and write this, feeling so lonely and so broken, I realize that I do still have her. She will never leave me. I may not be able to kiss and hug her and dress and bath and feed her, the things about her that I know and love, but I can feel her. And maybe that's what I need more. I know that we are not in charge of this life and that I will somehow make it through this, but it seems impossible right now as I am buried in my sorrow. I know the only way I will ever make it through is to turn to the Lord, to let him carry me, which is not always easy to do as I am hurting and angry.
I received a beautifully comforting letter in the mail from our beloved Prophet Thomas S. Monson. In it he expressed his and Sister Monson's sorrow for our losses and counseled me to remember these words; "Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths" (Proverbs 3:5-6) These are the words I need to remember. I don't understand why this has happened, why a beautiful happy little girl was taken away from a family that loved and adored her, along with two kind, loving, wonderful parents. I need to remember that I don't need to understand. I just need to trust.
"I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you...Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you; not as the world giveth, give I unto you" (John 14:18, 27)