This is not the post I wanted to write. It has taken me over two months to even
gather myself together to write it.
Given my penchant for allusions to other works of art or literature that
are meaningful to me, it follows that the post I wanted to write is called: The Boy Who Lived. This is not that post.
After 6 weeks in the hospital, Thomas lost the
battle against pulmonary hypertension—high blood pressure in the right side of
the heart and lungs. He fought harder
and with more bravery than anyone I’ve ever seen. He came off ECMO after 27 days, and looked ok
for a couple days before his pulmonary hypertension, which had been mild,
started a downward spiral out of control.
I continued to work in Richland during this time, video
conferencing with Thomas’ physicians when I could. I continued to pray for miracles. I knew if it was God’s will, Thomas would be
healed. I learned to accept that, like
Abraham being willing to sacrifice his son Isaac, I had to be willing to let
Thomas return to God, sacrificing my own will to keep him. Once I offered my will, Thomas started trying
to depart mortal life.
I received a phone call from my wife to drop
everything and leave for Seattle immediately.
I went as fast as I dared most of the way, only to hit the rush hour
slow down outside of Bellevue. I
painfully crept along I-90 and discovered just before the I-405 exit that the
520 bridge was temporarily closed. Consequently
the traffic over the I-90 bridge to I-5 was stop and go at speeds of 10 miles
per hour at best. I constantly prayed that
I would make it in time. My wife later
told me that in the hours leading up to my arrival, Thomas’ blood pressure and
heart rate began dropping on several different occasions, and each time she
told him, “Thomas, you have to wait for Daddy to get here.” His heart rate would then come back up, and
his blood pressure would follow.
Thomas and I had about an hour together. I held him and sang to him and wept for
him. I kissed his little cheeks and told
him it was okay to go. I placed my hands
on his little head, and by the ancient priesthood authority of Melchizedek that
I bear, commanded Thomas in the name of Jesus Christ to return home to the
Father of our spirits. Immediately his
heart rate and blood pressure dropped precipitously and continued to trend
downward. We turned off the monitors and
unhooked him from the ventilator. He was
pronounced dead at 7:29 pm, July 17, 2013.
My wife and I left Seattle that night with heavy
hearts. The weeks that followed were
filled with tears for Thomas’ departure from mortality, joy that we were finally
able to see our other children who had been staying with grandparents for five weeks,
and relief that his suffering was over.
Thomas taught me much about life and love. Though a small child, he was a giant among
men. He was, as my younger brother so
perfectly put, “a little friend to all.”
The week after Thomas’ death, we were at a public pool in Utah where our
children were taking swimming lessons, and I saw a man with Down syndrome come
into the locker room. I did something I
never would have done before Thomas came into my life. I smiled at the man and said, “Hi, how are
you?” His response brought me
immeasurable joy: “I’m awesome! And so
is everyone else!” About a month later
our family was at a restaurant where we sat near a couple who had an adorable
little boy with Down syndrome. My wife approached
their table first, and I followed after helping our four year old with his
dinner. When this couple learned about
our loss, the boy’s mother asked my wife, “Do you want to hold my son?” She passed him to my wife, and I fought back
tears. These complete strangers offered
their child to us, for just a moment, to fill a need and void in our lives that
nothing else could replace.
I still lie awake most nights thinking about Thomas. The loss of this little boy born with a hole
in his heart has left a large crater in mine.
Today is his first birthday. I
imagined celebrating this day very differently.
I had hoped it would be a party for the boy who lived. I still feel his spirit near, from time to
time. One day it will be reunited with a
perfect body in the resurrection. Like
Christ and because of Christ, the author and finisher of my faith, Thomas will
live again. That glorious day we will
have a party for him, the boy who lives.