Nurse Bonnie’s theory is that the infection Brock battled last week in the hospital drained the last of his batteries.
We came home from the hospital Thursday, then spent a wonderful Friday together. For dinner, Brock craved and got a McDonald’s Big Mac (I don’t judge; I enable). This was the last thing he ate.
Saturday was a lazy day, with Brock sleeping and me writing/reading beside him in our bed.
At 11pm I tried to give Brock his last antibiotic pill of the day. He sat up, still mostly asleep, and his mouth couldn’t remember how to drink from a straw.
Or maybe he just didn’t have the energy to suck from a straw anymore.
Brock’s parents and brother came over and for the next four days we made Brock as comfortable as we could while his body gradually stopped working.
Unexpected Thing #1: the full house
I thought I would want to be alone with Brock at the end, although of course I would (reluctantly) share him with his parents and brother’s family.
But that is not at all how I felt this week.
After Brock’s parents and brother were here, I invited his best friends to come say goodbye (and just sit in the living room) Sunday. On Monday I invited more family, and then more friends.
Because so many of us shared the work of adjusting Brock’s position in bed and moistening his mouth and changing his sweaty pillowcases and wiping his forehead with a cool cloth, I was able to just lie beside him and hold his hand.
Family made huge meals, washed laundry, swept floors, and even cleaned our bathtub.
Brock was never alone — and sometimes his room was too full to fit anyone else. It was wonderful.
In addition to sharing the work, I felt like everyone was sharing the grief.
Unexpected Thing #2: the parallels
I’ve read a lot about dying and grief over the past few years, and often read that the birthing and dying processes are similar.
But holy cow, there were so many moments where Brock’s dying room could have been a birthing room.
At one point, Brock’s dad was timing Brock’s breaths just like a man times his wife’s contractions.
My job was to tell Brock whatever he needed to hear, and hold his hand.
Unexpected Thing #3: the final exam
I’d inadvertently been studying for Brock’s death for months. All of a sudden he wasn’t able to speak or even communicate with his body, and it was up to us to decide what he needed.
I knew exactly how to give Brock a back massage that wouldn’t hurt his tumour-y areas.
I knew his favourite sleeping positions, to alleviate his cancer-caused back pain and bony body.
I knew that he hated having his feet touched.
I knew he didn’t want to be in pain, but he also didn’t want to be sedated, so we avoided giving too much pain medication.
I already had a Brock playlist on Spotify, so we could listen to all his favourite songs. We sang aloud to Mr. Jones (his favourite song) and I think he smiled.
I knew his favourite movie was The Two Towers from the Lord of the Rings trilogy, so we watched that with a room full of family and I fast-forwarded over the Ent scenes because they bore Brock.
And most importantly: I knew what he needed to hear, or at least I hope I guessed correctly. For four days I had to rely on Brock’s eyes and rare grunts to guess how he was feeling. I figured Brock was confused about what was happening to him, so I explained over and over again that this was not another infection, this was the end of his life. Our job was to keep him comfortable and pain-free, and his job was to let go whenever he was ready.
I promised him that I would read the financial management book he’d given me, and that I would do my best to control my spontaneous tendencies and ask trusted friends and family for their input in my big life decisions. I promised I would stick to our annual Lego budget.
No regrets
I’m so happy we went to the hospital last week to deal with Brock’s infection, even though it was hard on him. It would have been much worse for him to die feeling flu-sick. Instead, he was just very very tired.
I’m grateful we had all the conversations we needed to, while we still could. I never held back. I asked him all the hard questions and we talked about everything, from how to raise Isaac to the memorial scholarship/bursary we planned to start.
On Friday, which turned out to be his last aware day, I told him I didn’t want him to die and that I couldn’t give him permission to die. (These are the sorts of morbid conversations we’ve had regularly since he was diagnosed!) And then I thought about it a bit more, and retracted my statement. I said that I didn’t want him to suffer and so when he was ready to go, I would let him go.
Aftermath
I was very sad immediately after Brock went, especially when I had to tell Isaac his dad had died.
But by Thursday I was blank. I think I’m still in shock, even though we knew he was dying. Two analogies to describe this feeling:
- I feel like I’ve just ridden a rollercoaster. The ride just ended and the rollercoaster has pulled up to the loading platform. The brakes stop us. I’m not ready to stand up yet — I want to talk about the ride, to reflect on that highest peak and the sudden drop. And I have no idea what to do after I stand up.
- I feel like an iPhone that’s just been factory reset. A blank canvas. No personalized apps or custom wallpaper.
I can’t even read the grief book I bought in advance, because it’s describing a kind of gut-wrenching grief that I’m not feeling. I’m just empty.
To help work through this numbness, I’m trying to downplay my final memories of Brock, physically destroyed by cancer, and bring back my memories of how he was for most of our 11.5 years together. That huge smile and his sexy ass. His quiet brilliance. His enthusiasm for new projects and the first strawberry of the season.
I loved him so much.
My heart is with you and Isaac and your families, Heather. What a brave thing you’ve been doing with these posts. So much love has been there, and it will never disappear, but carry you on into the rest of your life and Isaac’s, and play a big part in continuing to affect the world positively, as you have always done.
I’m so glad I had the honour of meeting Brock at Evy’s wedding. I could feel his gentle soul, and the love he had for you and Isaac.
I am here for you, and even if there’s nothing I can do but send you positive thoughts and love through the airways, please know that there’s a constant stream of it coming to you.
With Sincerest thoughts, feelings and love for you, B. Childs
You are an amazing person, wife and family member. Your story has been one of love and strength. You are an extraordinary role model for Isaac, relationships in general and our community. Love you and wish peace and love
??. You have been Brock’s angel ? and now he will be yours above.
This is an incredible piece of writing. My sincerest sympathies.
Tears are pouring down my face as I read this. Brock was so lucky to have you. You were so lucky to have Brock. Your United strength amazes me! Your bravery in sharing this journey will inspire and help many. Sending love and praying for God to hold you all in his hands to ease your pain.
So sad to read he has left us now, us but mostly for you and Isaac and family. I saw you and Brock at the Farm Market this summer. I felt joy even though he looked very weak, but to see him in community knowing he and you were pioneers in the organic farming, market stuff in the valley. Or so it seemed to me. May your writing be healing, thanks for the courage and gift you give by sharing your story. Much love to you and Isaac???
Thanks for sharing your heart with us Heather. You’re writing is amazing and I can hear your sweet voice when I read the words. You’re words are a gift to all of us that loved Brock. Love you!!!
My thoughts and prayers are so very much with you Heather! Every single night my 4 (very sweet) foster children and I do our bedtime routine and they remember to pray for you. We may not have been through the same experience but our hearts grieve with you and want so much to see you comforted. X0x0?
Heather your writings are amazing, and you two shared an amazing journey together, and Brock was a wonderful giving person. Having had the opportunity to watch him grow up with our kids, and grow into the man that was ecstatic to become a husband and father, I will never forget the family visits with Kyle and Chrissy…. God Bless you and Issac …we love you and Brock will forever be in our hearts.
All the best. Thanks for sharing
My thoughts and prayers are with you Heather! Thanks for sharing. Take care
Love to you Heather. You did good. An amazing wife to a brilliant passionate man.
Karen, Kevin and Kids xoxoxoxoxx
Heather, you don’t know me but I’m a member of Karen Graf’s team and just saw this fb post so I hope it’s okay with you if I comment on your intimate thoughts and feelings.
Your love for your husband spills off the page and as I sit here with tears rolling down my cheeks I want to tell you that Brock will always be with you. You see energy doesn’t die it just changes form and you will feel him near you; you’ll hear his voice inside your head and you’ll feel his love surround you.
Sending you comforting thoughts from eastern Canada. Phyllis
My heart is breaking for you and Issac, there are no words, I pray that you will find comfort and strength to help you through each day and that you will know that Brock will be right there with you in spirit, his strength and determination will be a testament to you and your son, much love and prayers Heather and Issac.
Thinking of you Heather and sending love.
Sorry for your loss. I went to high school with Brock, but I can’t say I knew him well. My memory of him is that he was a good soul and a nice guy. Be well.
My heart breaks reading your words filled with love and sadness Heather. I am so sorry for your loss. Much love to you and Isaac.
Heather I am so sorry! But what powerful words, and such a wonderful description of the heartache you were experiencing, but also of the strength that you posses, one of the many things I am sure Brock loved about you. Take care of yourself and Isaac. Jolene.
Such an amazing post, you are so brave and courageous. I lost my mom 6 years ago to cancer, I was 22 at the time. My mom was 43. We (my dad, sister and I) had to give doctors permission as my mom cried out in the critical situation that took her life to “just let me go.” Worst day of my life.
Grief is such a terrible thing to go through, but in time, you will see how it changes you for the better. Wishing you the best. And Thank you for your story. Xo
Heather, thinking of you and your family during this time. It saddens me to hear the news and for the pain you are going through. Brought me to tears reading about your journey. Wishing you moments of peace as you navigate the stages of grief. You are truley an amazing sister, daughter, mother and wife…..I’m glad I got to send time with you and your family this summer and see this first hand:) Sending love and hugs to everyone❤️Xoxo
My tears flowed as I read your sharing of the last few days of Brock’s life. Thank you for sharing your journey with Brock. So many people will be helped through your words. I am sad for you and your family that he is no longer in your life. Hope you have moments of peace as you go through the grief and mourning of your loss. My heart, thoughts and prayers are with you and all that knew and loved Brock. God Bless you and yours.
With Gratitude for your sharing
Daneve
Oh Heather, your writing is so descriptive and it is so very obvious how much you loved Brock. I can’t explain it, I’ve met you and saw Brock. I think I may have said two words to him, but I feel so very sad for your loss. My son, Michael, worked for you guys one summer and Michael brought home the largest zucchini I’ve ever seen from your farm!
I can understand you would be in shock right now and we all grieve in our own ways. Nothing can prepare us for the death of a loved one, nothing. God bless you and Isaac <3
Heather,this is beautifully written and so real.Should be required reading for all Med.School and Nursing students.You are to be applauded for sharing this most personal and heartbreaking journey.
Your strength to remain positive has amazed me. I could always hear you speaking to your son with such love and compassion through an open window or door. Once I had put two and two together and figured out who the people next door were, I was very sad. I clearly remember reading about the tragic news and your decision to sell your beloved farm. At this point not knowing either of you, my heart ached so badly, such a young family. I secretly admired Brock’s mini garden in the back yard. Especially the wild flowers! You and yours are in my thoughts and my heart aches for your heart. I wish you all the best when you recover from your state of numbness. Stay positive, but through the grief please remember to feel the feelings you will have, don’t push them away, acknowledged them and own them, for they will pass. I’m sure Brock will stay with you and Issac! Forever watching over you and showering you with his invisible love!
Hugs to you!
? The girl Next door
Love the picture of Brock. I was pleased he got to have a Big Mac. Your writing is beautiful and your last days together certainly filled with love and support. NIH hugs to you and Issac. Hug
Laura