The next couple of days seemed to creep by slowly. Our home was filled with dear friends, family and the sounds of Jeremy Brooke's little friend calling and leaving messages on the answering machine that rung out through the house. He would say in his little Forrest Gump voice, "Brookie, this is Jeremy. I was just calling to see if you were feeling better. I'm building us a log cabin and I'm going to take you fishing when you get better." It seemed like everyone just froze and listened when he called. He wanted to come see her and the teachers had asked numerous times to bring him but he lived with his grandmother and she was very old and backwards and was scared to let him go with anyone.
Timmy and I just stayed by Brooke's side, holding her hand, letting her know that we were there with her. Our hospice nurse stayed right there too along with Dr Fackler who had cancelled all of her patients to spend Brooke's final days with her. We were setting by Brookes bed talking when suddenly Brooke sit straight up in the bed. Brooke could never sit up alone so we all jumped up. She was having a seizure. One so violent that it had threw her straight up in the bed. I leaped on top of her and began to pray as hard and as loud as I could. Finally after what seemed like a good 10 minutes it stopped. We then realized that all of the swelling had gone out of her legs and feet and had traveled to her brain. We propped her up in the bed to reduce most of the swelling and prevent anymore seizures.
I could never ever express the pain I felt to think that Brooke would ever have to suffer. So far up until now she had just slept, she had no pain, and def no seizures. It was as if she was fighting so hard. Becky was there with us and I was expressing all of this to her of how she continued to fight and immediately she said, "Millie, that is all you and Timmy have ever taught her." I said "what do you mean." She then began to remind me of all of the times I had told Brooke to fight, and how strong she was, and how God did'nt teach her to swim to let her drown, and that she could do all thing through Christ who strengthened her. She said "Millie, she doesn't know how to stop fighting." That hit me like a ton of bricks. She was exhausted, her little body was wore out..and yet she was still fighting. Not for herself but for us.
Timmy and I knew what we needed to do. We sat down by her bed and held her little sweet hands. Hands so sweet that they looked like they were lightly covered in pearl dust. I began to tell her how that I knew I had told her all of her life to fight but now she could rest. I told her she didn't have to fight for mommy anymore because I was a big girl. I would be fine and Jesus would take good care of mommy and daddy. It was time for her to just rest.
That night we had very little sleep. My husband who as you know by now is a big jokester took the stethoscope we had used to listen to Brookes heart and put them in his ears and placed the other end on the bible. He said, "I need to hear from you Lord maybe this will help." About 5am, Timmy woke me up. He said, "Mommy Brooke woke up and when she looked at me I heard her say that she is tired." I jumped up out of the bed, looked at her and her little eyes were circled in black. Her hands were dusty grey and her lips the same. The selfish part of me wanted to just scream as loud as I could NO!!! You can still heal her Lord! There is still time... but looking at that little girl who had fought all of her life and was so tired...all I could say was God please have mercy on me...
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