Talk given by Loretta at Sacrament Meeting, Holladay 12th Ward, Jan.21, 1979, after her return from 6 months in Israel, with the BYU study abroad program.
When I was in Israel, we stayed in these hostels in between three or four of the settlements. October 25th I woke up early in the morning and I looked out my window and I saw this little Arab boy herding sheep and an orange sky coming out over the hills. It was so peaceful. I couldn’t believe I was there. I was so glad to experience the beauty of that moment. I thought to myself, “What if today was the last day I was even alive on this earth?” I just sat there and thought about this.
Now, for a minute, I want you all to pretend that the Lord came to you today and said, “I need you tomorrow. Today is your last day to be alive on earth.” What would you change today? Would you change? Would you be different? You probably wouldn’t care about missing the Super Bowl. You wouldn’t care about your dress. You wouldn’t care about the trip tomorrow. You would care about being with your family and friends, the ones you love so much. Every breath you take you would want to hold it in your lungs as long as you possibly could. We don’t know what will happen tomorrow or the day after that in life.
When I was sixteen I had an experience with my brother, Todd. I am sure he didn’t expect what was going to happen to him. He was just married that year. He married an adorable girl named ReNae. In January that year I was a sophomore. I would like to read about six excerpts from my journal during that time:
Monday, January 27th, 1975. I came to the front door after basketball practice. I was feeling great after a good basketball practice, because I had played well. It was such a pretty night, so before I went in the house I just stood in my driveway a few minutes and looked at the stars, the glistening snow, and the moon lurking in and out of the clouds. Then, I leaped up our front stairs and I was about to burst in the front door when I looked in our large front room window. The longer I looked, the longer I felt my heart slowly sink to the ground. My mom was sitting in our big green chair uncontrollably crying. It took me a long time to get the courage to place my hand on that doorknob and step into our house. I soon found out that Todd, my older brother, has a big tumor in his chest. Todd cried on the phone when he told my mom about it. He’s scared too. He has to go into the hospital tomorrow.
Todd and ReNae Just came in the door. I’ll continue this later.
Later that night: So, Todd and ReNae came over tonight to do some laundry. ReNae was crying so hard, and I don’t blame her one bit. They have only been married for 6 months, and then to have something like this happen…. I’d be pretty scared too. I am scared. These tumor things are scary. It’s something I see in movies, not in real life. I don’t even know what to say or do. Todd said that Dr. Pingree was really optimistic about the whole thing. Todd doesn’t seem as worried now.
January 29th, 1975: Todd has Hodgkin’s disease. I haven’t the faintest idea what it is; I don’t like it though. I went to visit him in the hospital tonight. His feet were bright orange from some of the tests they had given him. Those tests made him so sick. I kissed him and he had such a high fever that I felt like I was kissing a radiator. I was really worried but Todd did his best to set everyone at ease. Even though he was so sick, he was cracking jokes and cheering everyone else up. I sure hope his is all right.
February 23rd, 1975: Todd went into the hospital again yesterday. He’s been going in and out of the hospital for a month now. He had surgery today and they took his spleen out, part of his liver and they checked his stomach. He was given an 80% chance of complete cure! YEA!!! That is wonderful! He said that once he gets in a wheelchair he would race me down the hall, when he feels better.
March 1, 1975: Todd has been having Kobalt treatments to shrink his tumor. Those treatments make him very sick, but he still remains happy and cheerful. The only indication I have that he is even sick is that he is so pale and very weak. Everyone says those treatments are really rough, but I guess they don’t affect Todd as much. He is so thin. I like it when he calls me his favorite sister.
April 21st, 1975: Well, Todd caught a cold and it turned to pneumonia. He has been in the hospital for a week, and yesterday he was moved to intensive care. Intensive Care—that sounds pretty scary.
ReNae’s mother called us this afternoon and told us that Todd had really taken a turn for the worst. We had barely sat down to dinner, and everyone went racing up to the hospital—except me—I just couldn’t. For a long time, I walked around the house in a daze. Then, for the first time in four months I allowed myself to cry. I sobbed so hard I thought my head was going to explode.
Tonight, Todd is still in intensive care, but he is doing a lot better. I sure hope he gets better.
April 27th, 1975: Now I’m not depressed, just a little weird. Actually, I don’t know what I am feeling. Hopefully, I will understand how I’m feeling if I get it down on paper. I went to see Todd today. He looked pretty bad. His right lung collapsed this morning, and he had this tube sticking out of his chest sucking out all of the fluid in his lungs. Sort of like a vacuum, I guess. He was breathing with his whole body. Every part of his body would struggle and shake for every breath he took. Instruments are all over his chest measuring his heart rate and other stuff like that. His heart was beating so fast that I couldn’t even count the beats. His body is so scarred up. He has had so many tests. His feet are still blue from the last tests. He has needle marks in both arms. He looks like a junkie. He is so pale. He is literally whiter than the sheets. And he was sopping wet from perspiring so hard. I can’t even comprehend the type of pain his is going through. I felt so helpless watching him suffer. Amidst all this physical agony, Todd’s spirit is flourishing with love. He took my hand—I knew he was glad to see me. And, then, I couldn’t believe it…he started cracking jokes! He told me how mad he was that they shaved off all of his steal wool—meaning the hair on his chest! After a while, Todd got a little serious, he squeezed my hand and said, “I’m glad you’re here, it was pretty scary this morning. I looked into his soft, loving, black eyes and didn’t say anything.
Then Todd said, “You are my favorite sister and I love you.” I swallowed hard and I couldn’t say a word. I lingered by his side as long as I could, then I looked into his eyes and poured out all of the unspoken love that I could to him. The love that only your eyes can give. Todd released my hand, and with all the strength I could muster—I made myself walk out that door. That might be the last time I will ever see Todd.
April 29th, 1975: There’s not much I can say. That was the last time I will ever see Todd, because he died last night. Todd died last night. You know the panicky feeling you have when you are at the bottom of a swimming pool and you run out of air, then you desperately struggle to the surface for one gasp of air? Well, that panicky feeling of racing for air—dramatized about a million times is what I feel, and it is overwhelming me. I don’t even know how to get air. This is torture. A mental torture that I don’t even know if I can handle. Our house looks like a florist shop. I’ve never seen so many flowers. But flowers on the outside won’t do any good when I feel like my insides have been ripped out and carelessly stuffed back inside. I won’t even be able to read this later on, because my tears keep smearing this ink.
Last night, right after Todd died, I went to pieces. I’ve never cried so hard in all my life. I had to be led out of the hospital. I came home and threw up all over the bathroom. Then, I laid in my bed and just shook with chill because I was sobbing so hard. I really didn’t think I was going to make it. I just lay there shaking hoping I would pass out.
Right now, I would do anything to see Todd. Just to touch him, or to see those big black eyes or his sparkling smile. I will never take people for granted again. You never realize how immensely you love someone. People are the most important thing. I want to stand-up and shout, “Love your brothers, your families, just love everyone.” I just want everyone to know that we never know what will happen, from one day to the next. I want to tell people to love as many people as they can, in all the ways they can, as long as they ever can!
I don’t think this dreadful feeling, this hell, will ever go away. I’ve got to quit crying. I think I’m going to throw up again.
That is the most severe mental and emotional anguish I have ever been through in my life. And I didn’t even come close to bleeding from every pore.
“Which suffering caused myself, even God, the greatest of all, to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body and spirit—and would that I might not drink the bitter cup, and shrink—Nevertheless, glory be the Father, and I partook and finished my preparation unto the children of men.”
--D & C 19:18-19
We can’t even comprehend the suffering our Brother has done for us. Each of us in this room had an elder brother, Jesus Christ, suffer, bleed and die for us.
While I was in Israel, I wrote this letter to a friend. I then defined my whole Israel experience and the realization I had over there:
“There are two events in my life that have had more impact on me that ever before. One is when Todd died. I never realized how important people are. They are the very most important, I thought. This quote was written in my journal many times. The second event is this Israel experience, and now I realize our relationship with the Lord is the very most important thing. My very existence would not be if it wasn’t for His unconditional love. Without His love, I wouldn’t have the love and goodness of other people—or any relationship with anyone.”
I am not the same person since Todd died, and I know now, that I am not the same person since Israel. This is the message that I leave with you. I realized in Israel that we are so unconditionally loved that we can’t comprehend it. I pray that each of us won’t take for granted the constant outpouring of love that each of us have within us. I pray that if today we had to answer to the Lord, we would be able to stand before the Lord and not be ashamed. This is my report form the Holy Land. I know this Church is true. And I say this in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.
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