As I have gone through this trial of losing Parker, I have become so much more aware of the Lord's hand in our lives. It has humbled me beyond what I thought was possible- or I admit, needed. Before this trial, I knew that the Lord was a major part of my life but now I know that He is my everything. He is my all. I rely upon him. He gives me strength. He sits through my anger. He picks me up when I collapse from exhaustion. He even gives me the sense to not punch the wall, even though for some reason at the moment it seems like the most logical thing to do. Most importantly, He reassures me that Parker knows that I love him.


Parker's passing in itself is a testimony to me of the Lord's will and mercy. When you think of the timeline of Parker's decline, it all happened within a week. He got the flu on Sunday, went to the hospital on Thursday, and then was gone early Saturday morning. It seemed like everything that could possibly happen to him, did. The doctors had no explanation but assured us that there was nothing we could have done. He was getting the best care in the world at Primary Children's Hospital, and he still passed away. There is no logical reason as to why this happened. The only conclusion I can come to is that it was the Lord's will.  However, I can also see that it was not the Lord's will for Parker to go suddenly (relatively speaking of course). Parker did have some small miracles along the way that lengthened his time here. That is where I witness the Lord's merciful and loving hand. I think this extension of his time here was so we could say goodbye.


On Friday night, our family made plans for the evening.  Some people needed to decompress and go home to help cope with the situation, and my mom was going to stay here with Parker. My dad asked me if I was to stay or go.
It was the strangest thing- as soon as that possibility of leaving entered my mind, I heard, "No. You know what you want to do".

 
I just knew that I needed to be the person to stay there with my mom. I explained myself, said goodbye to the rest of my family, and fortified myself to face the situation at hand.

My mother and I prepared to hunker down for the night. My mom was just exhausted, and luckily she was able to sleep on the bed that was provided. I looked at the chair, and thought, "Well, maaaaayyyybe I could get some sleep". I had not slept at all the night before, and so it was almost tempting. But again, the thought came to me, "No. You know what you want to do".

So, I scurried back into the PICU, and waited for an opportunity to be by Parker.

The nurse saw that I was there, and kindly told me where I could stand. He quickly went and got me a chair to sit on so I could still be at the same height as Parker, but be a smidgen more comfortable. I was really grateful, and it was calming to just sit there, hold his hand, stroke his arm, and let the tears slide down my cheeks. I wanted to sit there for the rest of the night, but I again had the feeling that time was running short. The same thought came to me, "You know what you want to do".

I really wanted to talk to him, but it felt kind of awkward since the nurses were so close by. So I looked at his face again, and all concerns just melted away. He looked like he had just fallen asleep on the couch after a movie. His hair had fallen across his forehead, and so I brushed it back, smiled to myself, and started to talk.

Once during my conversation, I caught one of the nurses looking at me with tears in her eyes. I smiled, and thought that it was sweet. Strangely seeing her reaction brought some sense of reality to my situation, and it helped.

After about an hour, the doctor came to do her rounds. I knew that I was in her way so I got up to leave. Before I left, I looked at his sweet face leaned over, and whispered, "I love you bud", followed by a kiss on the forehead.

Later when I got the bad news and the impression that the rest of my family needed to be here, I went to get my mother. We sat there outside of the PICU, clutching Kleenex and simply overcome with grief. Suddenly, we noticed that something was happening. The Kleenex had these weird clumps, and we literally had tufts of white fluff all over our faces. We started to laugh, and I think it was what we needed- a defective box of Kleenex to avert our thoughts for just a second or two. I think that it also reflected a bit of Parker's humor; I have no doubt that he was there, crying and laughing along with us.

Fifteen minutes later, the situation became more grim as something was wrong with one of Parker's tubes. The nurse came over to us and explained what was going on, but my poor mother barely squeeked out, "Just get him through till my husband gets here- he cannot go until they come".
That hour was the of the longest hour of my life. Every time someone rounded the corner, we both glanced over with anticipation that was met with disappointment, and followed by a glance to the clock. We wanted everyone else to be there, and fast! My mother and I did not want Parker to slip away while our family was en route.

Lucky for us, Parker waited. Some may look at the timing of his passing as chance, but I see the Lord's hand directly in these actions. Parker waited to go until everyone said their goodbyes. He could have gone on Thursday, or any time after the initial heart failure, but he did not go until after everyone had said their personal goodbyes, and all of our family was there.