Missing Brendan

We had a wonderful surprise this week when my twin sister and her family changed their flight plans and flew here this week instead of home from their vacation.  I'm grateful they could spend time with us -- I mean, the kids always remind us that genetically they are half-siblings. 

My heart was touched as I watched Marie grieve in her own personal way this afternoon.  Sad times come, and then they pass, and life moves on as usual.  When we were last at Primary Children's Hospital, I spoke with the social worker specifically about how to help kids Brendan's age cope with the death of their friend, cousin, classmate.  It's a tough age because they know enough to understand, but don't have enough life experience behind them to comprehend all that death entails.  Besides, they are at that magical age when kids believe that they are invincible.  So how do they mesh their invincibility with a friends death?  I was told it just takes lots of talking it out -- and parents do it best.

Tonight we had another special visit from Elder Larsen (of the Seventy) and his wonderful wife.  He was so gracious to come and spend a few minutes with us and share with us his impressions from when he gave Brendan a blessing a month ago.  Then they listened and let us share stories about Brendan.  It was nice to share and talk and laugh about the things we remember.  Here is one of the stories the kids shared:

Brendan was sometimes very particular about the way he liked his food.  When we had Norskies (crepes) he liked them rolled tight.  A few times he got after Rachel for not rolling them tight enough.  And they had to have just enough syrup on them -- not too much or too little.  Once, when he complained a bit much, Rachel told him he would just have to make them himself.  He realized he had been a little overly picky but gave Rachel a look like, "Do I look like I could do it myself?"  He did mention how he just likes things so particularly and perfect.

One other memory I had today was about Brendan's eyelashes.  From the time he entered the hospital, many, many comments every day were made to him about his long, lush eyelashes.  Now, Brendan has heard all about his eyelashes all of his life.  I thought he would pride himself on his beautiful eyelashes, but he never seemed grateful or impressed that they were noticed and pointed out.  After most of his chemotherapy treatments, Brendan began to lose his eyelashes.  Not all, but some.  Brendan found that if he just tugged on them, they would come out.  So he began pulling them out.  I begged him not to -- I wanted him to keep his lovely eyelashes.  But Brendan was glad to have them out.  Because then, he got a break from every doctor, nurse, tech, radiation therapist, social worker, and receptionist asking him if he realized how lucky he was to have such long eyelashes!  While he may not have been glad they grew back in -- thicker than before -- I was!