The following is an excerpt from my personal journal. I wrote this entry on Oct. 31, 2016, two days after my husband went missing, and less than 24 hours after I found out he was dead:
This is really happening. It's 3:00am and I was having trouble sleeping anyway, but when my two-year-old -- lying next to me in bed -- cried out, "I want daddy!" in his sleep, I knew trying to get back to sleep was not going to work.
Friday night:
B, the kids and I pick up K, our Japanese foreign exchange student. They drop me off at work and then go get tacos and call it a night.
Saturday morning:
I wake up at a friend's house (where I spend the night sometimes when I have night shifts, as my friend lives close to my job). I'm eager to get back with my family, especially because it's B's birthday, so I thank my friend and start off walking down the street so that when B is ready to pick me up, he can just find me on my walk. I needed some fresh air and exercise anyway!
After B, K, and the kids finish a hike with friends (as is B and the kids' weekly custom), they pick me up. I give B a bushel of balloons, but not before sucking some helium and singing "Happy birthday," eliciting from him a frantic, "Don't do that! You'll kill your brain cells!" I just smile and pass out balloons to the kids and K. Later, I remember B has a terrible fear of balloons. Haha, I knew I should have gone with flowers... After they pick me up, we go to the local farmer's market. We sample goods, pick out pumpkins and head home. B goes straight to napping, K and I carve pumpkins, while the kids play with the neighbors.
Saturday early afternoon:
When B wakes up, I'm already anxiously packing the things I'll need for work (I'm scheduled to work 3pm-3am and am going to crash at a friend's house again, since I want B to have the car to have fun with K and the kids). We leave the kids with a sitter, B and K drop me off at work, and then they head to the canyon to go long-boarding. Saturday late afternoon: I hear about a terrible longboarding accident in which a girl almost dies because she wasn't wearing a helmet. I send a paranoid "please wear your helmet" text to B and spend the next while chatting on and off with my coworkers about how tragic that girl's accident was and how sometimes, with head injuries, death is preferable to sustained life in poor quality. That coworker leaves after a while and shortly thereafter I notice the texts. Saturday evening: I see texts from my sister-in-law (the babysitter) and mother-in-law that say little more than that there is an "EMERGENCY" with K & B. I assume my mother-in-law is overreacting (she is admittedly over-protective at times), and that she probably hasn’t heard from B and is jumping to conclusions.
I wish that had been the case.
I call my mother-in-law and she tearily tells me that she is unsure of the details but that a deputy had come to my house and possibly told my sister-in-law that K is “deceased.” I quickly get off the phone with her to verify details. I explain to my coworker the situation, call my manager, and then head to a different office that I know is vacant this time of night. There, I call Officer T. Officer T confirms that K fell to his death at Bridal Veil Falls. Then he adds the unthinkable:
“Your husband is missing.” I burst into sobs, at which point the officer ascertains my whereabouts and tries to make sure I’m in a safe place. He’s going to send someone to talk to me.
Meanwhile, my manager makes her way to me as well to support me and to get me a ride since I don’t have my car.
I sit alone in the office, waiting for someone to arrive.
My manager arrives first. Soon after, Officer R arrives and we go to speak in a private office. He tells me that the police department received reports earlier that an Asian “man” (his age had originally been misrepresented) was found deceased at Bridal Veil Falls. Since my car was the only one there at the time, they traced it back to my address in Springville. They sent an officer there who met my sister-in-law. She explained who K was but also informed them that B had been up there too.
By the time the officer and rescue crew started searching for B, it was already dark (or at least getting there) and they were unable to find anything.
That was all the officer could tell me at that time. He asked if I had any information that might help. I explained what B and K’s plans had been and then I show him a selfie B had sent me of him and & K on a trail. He had sent it at 4:41pm, and I had responded, but not heard back after the picture text. As I told the officer, I didn’t think anything of not getting a response, because “you don’t just jump to the conclusion that your husband fell off a cliff” (my words to him).
The officer recognized the location as being at the top of Bridal Veil Falls and promised the search and rescue team would do all they could to locate B. He noted, however, that because it was so dark out now, it was likely little would be discovered until the morning, even with the helicopter searching with its light.
After our conversation, the officer kindly hugged me and encouraged me to consider all outcomes, not just the one where “both my mind and yours” may be going.
My manager drove me to a close friend’s house (family really). My adoptive family took me in and sat with me to wait for the victim’s advocate the officer had promised to send. While waiting, I readily received a priesthood blessing (LDS practice), from my pseudo father and brother.
The victim’s advocate arrived and updated me: no news.
She spent time with us, though, and explained what was going on and what to expect next. When it was ultimately recognized that no news was likely to come until morning, the advocate left and I was taken home, where my kids continued to sleep, completely unaware of the chaos swirling around them.
The only thing that helped me sleep that night was the hope of waking up to a new morning, in which all of this would turn out to just be a horrible dream.
Sunday morning (10/30/16):
I woke up feeling much more stable – which I had hoped would be the case, as I didn’t want to upset my kids. I was able to be there for them for the first few hours of the morning. And since a good friend of mine and my sister-in-law had spent the night, much of the morning was spent with the kids laughing excitedly and enjoying having two aunties in the house. Our “adoptive” family came to pick up the kids at about 9am, which was arranged because I didn’t want them there if I was to receive bad news. The search and rescue team had resumed working at 8am (of “just before”) and so by 9, I was starting to feel anxious again and it was a good time for the kids to go have a special day with our friends. (They still had no inclination anything was wrong and hadn’t even asked about B not being home, because they’re used to him frequently leaving for work/school before they’re up.)
The victim’s advocate had told me that she would call at the first sign of Brandon, but I had also been informed that if the worst had happened, the notification would be given in person, not over the phone.
I think it was only about 10am when my friend and her husband (who had arrived earlier), my sister-in-law, and I heard a knock on the door. When that door was opened and the only two standing there were the victim’s advocate and the officer, I knew bad news was our lot after all, but still had hope it wasn’t that bad. But my feelings were already disturbed by the fact that Brandon was not standing in my doorway with those two. They asked me to sit down.
Then they told me.
They found Brandon.
He was deceased.
I don’t think I knew what emotional pain was before that. I don’t think I’d experienced hysteria before that. The only words I seemed capable of were tortured cries of
“No no no!”
“Oh my God!”
And, of course, “Brandon!”
Brandon, my best friend. My one true companion, with whom I had often reflected that life seemed “too good” (which I happily expressed to him more than once). Brandon, whom I so often wait up for, even if it is just to see him for a second before one or the other of us falls fast asleep. Brandon, who has loved me since we were 7, who every single day of our life together kisses me and tells me still how much he loves me. Brandon, to whom no mortal soul who has walked this earth can compare in the slightest for enthusiasm for life, zeal for ideas, energy of spirit. Blessed, blessed, blessed Brandon.
My heart was utterly and completely wrenched.
After the sobbing subsided—or at least quieted—enough to hear anything else, the victim’s advocate and the officer explained the next steps: the medical examination, the selection of funeral homes, etc.
So here I am, the recipient of things that I have been trained to offer. Things are being explained to me that I have learned to explain to others. Surreal.
In time, the victim’s advocate and officer left to continue their investigation.
Sunday late morning/early afternoon: The victim’s advocate informed us when it was approved for us to go up to the falls, is I wanted. I wouldn’t be able to see Brandon’s body, but I could be in the area. By the time we got there, news had already spread and many of Brandon’s UVU friends and associates were gathered there, along with some media outlets. I sat in the back of my friend’s car until I felt collected enough to face this scene – this natural, scenic attraction that used to be so incorruptibly beautiful to me but was now decidedly corrupt.
I should mention that inbetween the conversation with the victim’s advocate and the officer and the time I was driven up the canyon, I received a few visitors in my home, who had been informed of what had happened. The officer had contacted my bishop [local clergyman/leader of my congregation] for me, so he and his two counselors arrived, comforted me by their presence and embraces, and then gave me the blessing that saved me from the bitter pain.
I won’t share details of that blessing here, because while all of this is highly personal for me, that blessing is sacred to me. Let it suffice to know that immediately upon receiving that blessing, I felt a tremendous weight lifted and truly learned the meaning of the promise that Christ removes the “sting” of death (Mosiah 16:8,1 Corinthians 15:55).
I felt an assurance of Brandon’s love for me and the Lord’s. And thoughts of my love encouraging me even when I can’t see him sustained me. These and thoughts of the plan of salvation and Christ’s atonement were my salvation and continue to be.
So when I sat in the parking lot at Bridal Veil Falls, although I felt it important to be there, I also kept feeling impressed that “he is not here but is risen” (Matthew 28:6). Brandon’s spirit was no more connected to that body than Christ’s body was connected to the infamous tomb.
His spirit was with me.
I have to believe that God is merciful enough to allow my beloved husband—who is covenanted to support me “in time and all eternity”—to tarry with me at this time that is surely much harder for me than for him.
I watched the rescue team, the neon yellow specks on the mountain, surround an area where I knew lay the body of my sweetheart. His beautiful body.
In time, they secured ropes and then I saw what I could only make out as a stretcher (but which made my heart pound because I knew who—or what—was secured to it) descend to the lower level of the falls, where another group of yellow dots received him. At this point, we were ushered down to the lower parking lot where Brandon’s friends had been sent earlier (leaving my two friends and I alone to witness the “rescue” of Brandon’s body).
I again hugged many people dear to me, but dearer still to Brandon. I returned to the refuge of my friend’s backseat, determined to remain until Brandon’s body was transported away from that place.
Many more conversations took place; many more feelings of love, comfort, despair, grief, disbelief; many more miracles of coming into contact with people whom I needed at just the right moment – all of this, even within the first few hours of that day. The medical examiner did eventually transport his body away. I watched the white, windowless truck drive past.
Written Later (1/7/2017):
Much more happened that day, which I may decide to share in the future. Having shared this much is something very odd to me, as I do not have a habit of sharing highly personal narratives with many, and much less with the public world. However, I have been so strengthened during this time by hearing others’ stories of facing the nightmare that is the death of a loved one. And so I feel somewhat compelled to be more open with this event than I would ever think to be. I do hope it helps someone. And I pray that whoever reads this will do so with a spirit of compassion, understanding, and really, hope.
And my hope is that the word “hope” adequately expresses what to me is more than a cliché, naïve, childish dream of wanting something you can never have. To me, hope is certain. It is patient and merciful. It is trusting completely that my life with Brandon is not over. It is changed. And probably not as drastically as it seems at this moment.
My journal entry from 10/31/2016 concludes with this reflection:
How grateful I am that our beautiful, albeit imperfect, relationship will not end at Bridal Veil Falls or anywhere else or anytime. I have spoken to Brandon all day, out loud and in my heart, pleading with him to continue to help me—with the kids, with life, with everything, just as he always has with all his heart, might and soul. And I know that the imperfections of our relationship in time (including this most recent one of now having to face the most “long distance” relationship imaginable) will be swallowed up in the perfection of exaltation, where “that same sociality which exists among us here” will continue in Heaven, “only it will be coupled with eternal glory, which glory we do not now enjoy” (Doctrine and Covenants 130:2).
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And for what it's worth...
Sunday evening (Oct. 31, 2016):
We still threw Brandon a birthday party.
-Mary