June 3, 2006...the day I told Cameron!

2:09 am I got a call from Sara's cell. It was a family friend, saying that if I needed to say goodbye, I needed to do it now. I told her I said all I needed to while I was there. I lay back down, thinking, it's coming. Anytime now, she'll be gone. I was right, but not in the way you think. Sara saw Mandelyn's spirit leave about the time I got the call, but her body didn't shut down. When Sara called that morning and was telling me how she saw Mandelyn…I was shaking because Cameron had drawn Mandelyn in that purple dress and all her curls. The last time Cameron had seen his cousin, she was in a green sundress and braids. I saw her lying in that hospital bed, head shaved. I believe Mandelyn left her mommia at the hospital, and instantly came to Cameron. In fact, he woke up June 1st this year telling me how much he loves it when Mandelyn comes and sleeps with him on his back. After hanging up the phone with Sara, my friend Diane called to see how I was. I was talking to her, keeping my voice down, when Cameron came up to me with a letter. He wanted to pray for Mandelyn again. I hung up the phone and proceeded to do the hardest thing I have EVER done in my life. "Son, come sit with me on the couch." I tried so hard not to cry, to be strong for him, I'm the mama, and it's my job. I told him that Mandelyn was hurt really badly in the accident. I told him that her brain was dead. I told him his cousin was going to die. He sat on the couch, rocking back and forth, looking down at his socks, pulling at them. It seemed like an eternity that he did this. I thought to myself, "Please just scream or something!" Cameron screamed, "God can't have her! I need her! She's my best friend! She's my best cousin!" and sank into my lap crying uncontrollably. We sat on that couch, crying. I had no words. None. All you could hear was sobbing. When he sat up, I explained that if Mandelyn stayed, she wouldn't be the Mandelyn he knew. She wouldn't be able to run, and jump, or even say his name. He's smart; he knows what the brain does. Our hearts, however, were the one's doing the talking that day. He asked me, "Does that mean God could take Dylan away from us?" Here this precious boy was putting the link together. I said, 'Yes, Cameron, it does." He never asked to see her. He never asked to go to the hospital. He just … was!

I waited for Mike to come home so I could head back to the hospital. I knew better what today held for me. I knew what we were expecting, if it hadn't happened by the time I got there. I pulled up, and saw Sara's Uncle Mike's truck in the parking lot. How could I look this wonderful man in the face? He is all about the kids, and took to Cameron the moment he met him! Mandelyn was 2 months old then. I walked in the hospital, more somber this time. I greeted the family and friends in the waiting room and went to Mandelyn's room. There stood her sister from Washington and Uncle Mike. I swear I didn't look him in the eyes. He hugged me and I wanted to die. Then, he asked, "How's Cameron?" Not, "Can you believe this?" or "How is Sara doing?" No, he asked about my son. The son I just had to sit down and tell him his "best friend" and "best cousin" was going to die. I don't even remember how I answered. All I know is I hadn't told that story yet, and just wasn't emotionally ready to either. We sat and waited for Mandelyn to be taken for her second brain death test. For any of you who don't know what this test is…it's barbaric to think you have to do it twice, with 12 hours in between! Whoever wrote that little procedure needs to sit at a hospital, with a 2 year old on her death bed, making the family wait out the inevitable! Just my two cents! I went to Mandelyn's bed side later that afternoon. I sat, holding her right hand, as best I could because it was full of needles and wrapped and such. I sat there telling her, "Mandelyn we all love you. I don't know if your mom is going to have the strength she needs to do this. If you have to go, we'll be alright. We'll be here for your mommia." Holding her left hand was her Papa. I remember thinking to myself, "I know he is telling her the exact opposite." He held out hope, bless his heart. He never accepted she was leaving, until the following day. Bless his heart; he never gave up on her. Mandelyn was visited by countless friends and family. And those who didn't make it to the hospital, called. I was in charge of handling the calls. I think that distanced me, in hindsight, from the happenings of the day, by telling the stories over and over again. At nightfall, one of Sara's friends came. She held it together while there, and when I went to check in on Mande, the doctor's called Sara away. Finally, we were told that Mandelyn's potassium level was so high, that if it were that high in us, we'd register brain dead, therefore the second brain death test was on hold. I just knew this was Mande's way of holding out for her grandpa in Washington. As Sara's friend left, the devastation of losing Mandelyn was evident, as her husband was practically carrying her out of the hospital that night. When I got home, I sat in my cozy, comforting, yellow chaise, which also happened to be Mandelyn's favorite spot, and broke down. Mike held me, both of us crying, and handed me a picture of her that had been sitting on the desk. Cameron was already in bed when I got home, so we put Dylan to bed together that night. Instantly he was pointing at the light in his room. He wouldn't quit and he wouldn't take his eyes off of it. I thought nothing of it, until about 15 minutes later, when I looked in on him, he was sitting in his crib, babbling at the light, now off, and pointing. I believe he was telling us Mandelyn was there to see her, "Baby Handsome." I went to bed completely crushed that night. What could I do for Sara? For Cameron? For my family? For myself? How would we survive this? We're family, but we're dysfunctional, just like 90% of America. Were we strong enough to come together and get through this? Time would only tell.

...I'll post June 4th tomorrow.

June 2, 2006...the day my world stood still!

This blog is a more than a week overdue. Sara said she's been checking daily for it, but it takes so much out of me to do this. With Cameron home, it's harder, as I sit here crying my eyes out, I don't want to upset him. He hates to see me cry, but here it is…

A year ago I was sitting in my church, Cameron's head buried under my arm, crying because the little girl in those pictures was no longer with us. Cameron took it hard; because there were A LOT of pictures of him and Mandelyn…they were, after all, "best friends" and "best cousins". Once in awhile I wonder how we survived last year. By the grace of God! By the grace of God!

June 2, 2006

"Tiffany, what's going on?"

"Who is this?" I asked.

"It's Micah, what's going on?"

"I don't know, what's going on?"

"With Sara?" Micah responded.

"Micah, I don't have a clue."

"You don't know?"

"Know what?" I asked.

"Sara was in an accident."

"Where's Sara?"

"It's Mandelyn. It's bad." The words didn't register.

"No, Mandelyn's at school."

"No, she was taken by helicopter to Loma Linda. She has severe head trauma."

I woke up that morning, thinking I needed to talk to Sara. ALL MORNING! Finally I called, but she didn't answer. I later found out she was being loaded into the ambulance when I called. After hanging up the phone with Micah, I called my husband. After hanging up with him, I called Angelique. My head spinning. Were the words really coming out of my mouth???

I was in denial most of that first day. The advances in medicine are so great, she'll be fine. They are overreacting…always with the worst case scenario and then they'll come in and say, "She's going to be fine!" Sara can't lose her. It's impossible. She was just here! She was just playing with Cameron last night. She'll be fine.

I got to that hospital, sat in a room with my family and friends. My Aunt, Mandelyn's Ga, came in and I could no longer live in denial. She wasn't expecting me there, I could see that in her eyes. When she looked at me, I could see she didn't want to say the next words that would come out of her mouth. Mandelyn wasn't going to make it. She fell to the floor, rolling around, crying, shuttering, a sight I'll not soon forget, if ever. I looked around the room, my brother was shaking his head, his wife visibly crying, my step-mother kept saying, "No! I want my miracle! Pammie, I want my miracle! I won't accept this!" Seriously? We're seriously saying that Mandelyn is going to die? Impossible! Isn't it? I have said that I blocked much of what Mandelyn looked like those days in the hospital. That was until around September/October, when they came flooding back to me like a TON of bricks. That little angel looked nothing like the night before when I saw her. In fact, my initial response to myself was, "Where is Mandelyn? This isn't her! Where is she? We have to find her, she's out there somewhere." After seeing Mandelyn, I called home. I called my husband to tell him, he was at work, the kids were at Auntie Angelique's. I told him to hold it together, because I wanted to be there to tell Cameron. I called Angelique, told her, and asked her to keep it together while my kids were there. Could they do this? Mike walked in to pick up the boys and Angelique had to grab him and move his face from the kids. I called because I knew I would not be able to see their reactions. I was already going to have to tell Cameron and watching my cousin, who is my sister in every way possible, live this was going to be too much! I couldn't handle my husband and best friend, other sister, too. Selfish on my part? Absolutely! Self-preservation? Maybe? I came home that night in no way, shape, or form ready to tell Cameron. In some ways I was still in denial…things could change overnight, right? I didn't talk about it much to Mike either. I just … was! Does that make sense?

...that's all I can post for today. I'll post June 3rd tomorrow.