Grief Through Rob's Eyes

Today is Saturday, February 2nd, 2013. It's the same day of the week of Elle's accident one year ago. I had tried to gear up for Monday, the 4th, (the date of Elle's accident last year) and Friday, the 8th, (the day she died) as important days to acknowledge our grief over her death. But, Saturday morning as I sat down with Rob and ate the scrambled egg and bacon breakfast he made me (because he's wonderful), it occurred to me that this was really the "day" it all happened one year ago.
 
As soon as I mentioned it, I was caught off guard, and the flood gates opened. I put my head on down on the table and tried to stem the tide. Rob picked me up and led me to the couch and held me as we cried together. 

Sometime later, he showed me a journal entry he had written six months ago that I had never read. He gave me permission to post it:

August, 2012

So it's been six months since Elle's death and I haven't done any journaling about my thoughts or feelings. I have never journaled very well, so it isn't unusual that I haven't written things down, but I have had a restless conscience about not recording my feelings on this. Another reason I haven't done it is because it is so unbelievably painful to relive it and have to think about her being gone—I have only been writing for less than a minute, and I am already crying, but that isn't unusual since I have cried every day for the last 6 months. I know it is cliché to say this, but there aren't words to describe how sad and empty I feel at times. There are times that I feel like I am so disconnected from what’s going on that I could be set on fire and wouldn't even notice it.

I am not sure what prompted me to do this right now, since I am on a plane going to Columbus, Ohio, for a business meeting. I actually just said a silent prayer asking for help in recognizing answers as I look to take a new direction with my employment, but here I am writing about Elle.

Ren has done a great job of detailing most of the accident and hospital stay, so I will mainly focus on the things I have been feeling.

When I got to Elle, I immediately took her and offered a blessing. I was so frantic and panicked that I couldn't talk. I remember starting the blessing, but I didn't know what to say next—should I ask for her to be healed? Should I ask for a miracle? I think I mumbled for a few seconds and finally remember asking that she be kept alive until she could get medical help.

Sitting with her on the street was awful. I just held her and tried to talk to her. Based on the fluids coming from her mouth I could tell she had a lot of internal injuries—I wanted so bad to take away her pain, but there was nothing I could do but hold her and tell her I was there and that the doctor was coming. Once the medical personnel arrived I stepped back and let them take over. When I got up, I saw [the driver] standing in his driveway, and I went over to him and gave him a hug and told him that it was ok—it was just an accident. I may have said other things, but that is all I remember. I feel really blessed that I have not had to deal with feelings of anger towards [him]. I know it was an accident, and I know [he] feels horrible—I can't imagine how I would cope if I was in his shoes. [He] and [his wife] have been so kind to us, and I hope they have known that we love them. I don't feel like I ever had to forgive them, because I never felt they purposefully did anything wrong.

The hospital stay was full of emotions. One day I felt like everything would be ok and the next I was sure that she wouldn’t make it. I couldn’t take all the emotional stress, so every day I prayed for peace and comfort about things, but it never came—or if it did, I was too emotional to recognize it. In the hospital I worried that things would be different if I had said the right words in the blessing, and I worried that I didn't have enough faith to heal her.  

I was so happy when she woke up, and I got to tell her that I loved her. Unfortunately her waking up just raised my hopes of a recovery, so when things got worse I just had further to fall. I wanted to be by her 24/7. I got up several times a night to go see how she was doing, and I never left the hospital.

On the 4th day of the hospital I got word from one of my best friends that through some connections he had that Elder Bednar would be stopping by the hospital to see us. He arrived before Ren and the kids got there, so I was able to get a blessing and talk to him for a few minutes. I was so distraught and sleep-deprived that I don't remember much, but I do remember that after he gave me a hug I said, "Tell me it is all true." He looked me squarely in the eye and said, "It's all true." I needed to hear that. I knew it was, but like the father who brought his child to the Savior to be healed, I felt like saying, "Lord I believe, help thou mine unbelief."

Several times in the hospital the doctors came to us and said that something wasn't going well and then told us they could try something else and asked, "Would you like us to try that?" I remember thinking— "Why are they asking us that?—of course we want them to try anything and everything possible." Looking back, it is probably because the medical team was trying to remain positive, even though they knew the odds of a recovery were very slim. By the time we had to make a decision about taking her off life support, it was obvious that it was the right thing to do. I think for me this was the time that I was really hoping for a miracle. I just wanted her to open her eyes—I didn't care what type of brain damage she would have, I just didn't want her to go. When they finally stopped all the equipment, I started to panic and wanted to tell them to turn it all back on. At this moment I would have been fine to have her be on life support forever—at least if she was alive, there was a chance for a miracle.

Sitting there in the room with her was awful. It was a mix of emotions that included guilt, despair, pain, loss, emptiness, and anger. There was nothing anyone could say or do that could make me feel better—I just wanted to stop existing, so I could stop all the excruciating emotions and feelings.

But life doesn't stop; it goes on and on and on. Not in a happy and positive way, but in a laborious and empty way. I get up each day and just go through the motions. I am not good at expressing emotion, and talking about Elle makes me physically and emotionally sick, so I close up as tight as I can and try to get through each day by ignoring all my thoughts and feelings.

I wish that by now I had some great insight or spiritual experience to share, but I don't and that makes me feel even worse.

I loved how she would sit on the stairs in the morning, how she would throw stuff when mad, how much she loved music and dancing, and how much she loved her brothers.

I loved how Ren would do her hair in different ways and how cute Ren would dress her. I loved having her lay by me in our bed or on the couch. I loved having her sit on my lap in church. I loved how she would tease Cam and bully him. I loved her walking on my back. I loved seeing her play sports with her brothers and dance and stunt with her sisters. I loved how she would dress up and put on make-up.

She was feisty, fun, emotional, beautiful, independent, and I was thrilled that she was going to be our youngest child.  

—Elle’s Dad