One moment, everything appeared perfect. They were invigorated with bliss and the way life had progressed. Blessed. Perfection. Happiness. Nothing could disrupt this joy, or at least they thought. It was the next moment, the answering of a telephone, an abrupt turn, and four days that completely changed my family’s life. At the blink of an eye, everything was not perfect.
Tuesday, Oct. 21, 2003, around 7 p.m., the phone rang. My brother, Kyle, answered it and on the other side of the line, a man asked, “Can I speak with Mr. or Mrs. Marsden?” Kyle stopped my dad who was literally stepping out the door for meetings and handed the phone to him.
Dad accepted the phone call, concerned; he was informed that Daniel, one of my older brothers, had just been in a car accident. The voice on the other line instructed my father to come to the hospital as soon as possible, but to make sure somebody drove him. Dad was confused and asked questions, but he received no information over the phone. “We’ll be right there,” he said.
Without hesitation, he drove himself and met my mother at the hospital, but they had to wait until they could see Daniel. Mom and Dad were told what had happened, that Daniel had been induced into a coma, and that the situation was more serious than they had anticipated.
Finally, Mom and Dad were able to see him. They walked into his room and thought, “He looks perfect. Nothing seems serious and surely everything’s going to be ok.” What they didn’t understand at the time was that although he looked perfect on the outside, intense internal damage had targeted Daniel’s 17-year-old brain.
The next three days, my parents, doctors, nurses, Daniel’s friends, my brothers, and I waited as Daniel lay in a coma, hoping that things would progress. “We would watch his EKG signs, and some hours his brain pressure numbers were low. We thought he was going to come out of things and be just fine. Then other moments, specifically the mornings, his brain pressure would shoot clear up to 30 and 40 mm Hg,” Mom said. Anything above 20 mm Hg starts to cause brain damage, so our family continued to pray for some kind of miracle.
My brothers Kyle, Blake, and I continued with school the next two days waiting to hear any changes. The first day that we arrived back at school felt like waiting on pins and needles. Our focus and attention vanished. “I only stayed at school a couple of hours,” Kyle said. He wanted to get away as kids at school asked how Daniel was doing. Kyle then called my parents, who had my Aunt Kathy pick him up and drive him to the hospital.
“We finally started to realize that if Daniel were to come out of this, he would not be the same. We met with doctors and realized his kidneys, liver, and everything else began shutting down,” Mom said. Time moved forward, but nothing improved with his brain pressure. The doctors met with my parents again and offered to send Daniel to a brain institution in Seattle, Washington. After being on the phone with them, Daniel’s doctors were told that they could do nothing more than what was already being done. “It was the worst meeting I’ve ever been in. I was just sick,” Dad said.
That morning, Friday, October 24 at 3 a.m., my parents walked through the garage door of our home to discover every light on. They crept through the house until they came through their bedroom door. They observed my brothers Steven, Kyle, Blake and myself snuggled up with each other in their bed.
Mom and Dad woke us up and told us that Daniel would be taken off of life support and would soon pass away. Being seven-years-old myself, and my little brother being five, we didn’t understand what was happening entirely, but we knew it was a sad situation for our family.
My mom was holding me as we walked through the hospital entrance and passed the receptionist’s desk. I remember waiting for the elevator and asking my mom what was going to happen to Daniel. “Daniel is going to live with Heavenly Father. He needs Daniel, and we need to trust Him,” she said while carrying me.
At that moment, I understood that Daniel was going to die, and nestled my head into my mom’s shoulder as tears swelled out of my eyes. I was happy for him that he could live with Heavenly Father again, but I also didn’t want him to go because I would miss him.
We got into an elevator and traveled up to the ICU on the third floor. I remember the smell. There is a distinct smell which I refer to as “the hospital smell”; to me it’s a clean scent of fresh roses and hand sanitizer.
As my parents led my brothers and me into Daniel’s room, I remember seeing monitors reveal his vital signs and a long machine with a cord, life support, pumping air into his lungs. He looked so strong. He did look perfect as my mother had perceived, regardless of the injuries forcing his body to shut down.
Daniel always wanted to be a missionary and teach others about Jesus Christ. One of his favorite songs was one that we sang in primary at church. My family and I gathered around his bed and sang that song for him:
We'll Bring the World His Truth
“We have been born, as Nephi of old, to goodly parents who love the Lord.
We have been taught, and we understand, that we must do as the Lord commands.
We are as the Army of Helaman. We have been taught in our youth.
And we will be the Lord’s missionaries to bring the world his truth.”
We all went back to sleep in the waiting room until the time to meet with Daniel’s doctors. My parents wanted my brothers and me to be involved in everything, including this meeting; Grandma Marsden was there as well. They wanted us to know what was going on and feel included in any decisions. It was discussed that nothing more could be done. As a family, we chose to take Daniel off of life support.
Daniel’s internal body started to deteriorate. Friday morning, October 24, Daniel’s friends left school and swarmed to the hospital. They heard the news and knew that he would be taken off of life support. I remember a line of people that formed from his room down to the entrance of the ICU, and groups of five were allowed to go in and say goodbye to Daniel. “There wasn’t time to process anything,” my mom said. “We were worried about you and your brothers. We were worried about Daniel’s friends.”
Daniel’s heart and EKG signs were so strong; he just looked as if he would wake up. He always looked strong as he actively participated in sports. He thrived in basketball, and challenged others as a six-foot, jumping lefty. Even though his brain pressure and organs started to shut down, his heart continued to fight.
Daniel passed away 15 minutes after taken off of life support. My parents were in shock, but tried to comfort friends and family. My dad told me how he tried to handle his own grief as well as help his wife and children as they grieved.
“The worst thing in the world is burying a child. What I remember about it was the pain of my soul. I just hurt so bad. As a dad, I feel this sense to always protect my family, but it was like I failed. I couldn’t breathe in and out without it hurting,” Dad said.
My dad compared the loss of his father to the loss of his own son and said how three months after his father died, things felt better. He didn’t reach anywhere close to those feelings of peace until two years after Daniel died. “I think I hurt worse one year later than the day that Daniel actually died. I realized that I couldn’t wake up from a nightmare. I couldn’t figure out how to have joy in my life anymore,” he said.
He also mentioned how things that he thought were important before Daniel’s passing had become insignificant. He was unable to turn the TV on that first year. “We were pushed back into daily activities and going into public places. I was so emotional and felt like everyone was just staring at me. I wanted to hide from the world, but I was forced to keep moving each day,” Dad said.
It took a long time for my family to feel peace after Daniel’s death. Kyle couldn’t focus on school and became depressed. My brother, Adam, was serving a volunteer mission in Mexico for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints at the time and stayed out. He grieved with no family around, served others, and taught about Jesus Christ. It was three months later that his service finished, and he went through a different level of the grieving process while being home. My oldest brother, Steven, went back to work in Las Vegas and just wanted to come home and be with family.
Blake was only five-years old, but he still understood the situation and would try to comfort anyone he saw in pain. Very often, Blake would be found on Mom’s lap with arms wrapped around her, trying to comfort her.
While currently serving a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Toronto, Canada, Blake wrote to me:
Being a five-year-old boy, I felt God very close, and I felt peace. They always say that children are close to God, and in that time of my life I understood why. After Daniel passed away, I saw everyone struggling and the pain that they felt. During all of that, I just wanted to take it away from them, so I would hug anyone who was crying. Now don’t get me wrong, losing Daniel was hard, but immediately after he passed away, I felt a great amount of closeness with God. I knew that things would be okay. I knew that God needed me to help comfort those who were struggling with it. As time has gone on, I’ve gained a greater understanding that because of Jesus Christ my brother will live again. And because of Christ, we can be together as families for eternity. I’m eternally grateful for the sacrifices that he made. The Savior knows the pains we have felt and the pains in which we still feel. But, through Christ, peace and joy will come!
My family members each grieved in their own ways, but we all learned the importance of family, God’s will, and that death was not the end. Something that brought our family hope at this time, even though it felt like all hope had evaporated, was a CD given to us by a friend. It was a CD by a man, Kory Kunz, who sang about feelings of losing individuals he loved, his faith, and trials that he went through.
This CD was probably played in our house every day for at least one year. I remember one song in particular, “I Believe,” which felt like it was explaining our family’s situation. More than anything, though, it gave us hope that we would be with Daniel again, and that there was more after this life. The beginning verse and chorus says:
“It happened so suddenly. Suddenly I was taken away.
Before I could feel the pain, everything turned from night into day.
And I pray, ‘Please, let me stay with them.
I don’t want to leave my family and friends.
I can see them crying in their hands over me.’
But I believe, in a place where I will be,
After this life to wait for my family.
I believe, in a place where I will be
After this life to wait for my family.”
Friends and family provided incredible amounts of support. People brought meals to the hospital and to our home after Daniel passed away for weeks. Teachers were supportive, and so generous. I remember my dance teacher and my class putting random things together for me. My mom’s best friend came over and washed our windows. There were many acts of service that touched our family in small and simple ways.
One of our best family friends came to our house and asked for our shoes. This is normally a strange request, but he acted out of love that has touched my life to this day. I remember him taking our shoes and cleaning them. It was a simple act. I didn’t really understand this as a child. Why was this man cleaning our shoes? I thought that was so odd!
As I have gotten older, I have understood better the love that this man showed through a small thing. It didn’t take away the pain and the circumstance, but it added love, warmth, and compassion into my family member’s hearts. It gave us a glimmer of hope to keep going.
Another experience came from a family member, my uncle who owned a cabin in Island Park, Idaho. After Daniel’s funeral, my uncle handed a key to my father and told him to take some time as a family and get away from the world. He gave us the key to his cabin where we were able to spend time as a family and process all that had happened that week. Again, this gave us hope to keep going.
A family offered to babysit my little brother and me every Tuesday night as my parents had church meetings. They always provided games, crafts, and learning opportunities. This again, brought hope and allowed my parents to fulfill their church responsibilities.
Dad said, “It was almost two years out when I started to feel peace and joy after having a dream of Daniel. I was in a trailer which went over a cliff and hit the ground. All of the sudden, everything was dark around me. I heard Daniel. I would hunger to hear Daniel when he came in after his dates and say, ‘Hey dad, hey mom.’ He came into this dark place and said, ‘Hey Dad.’ He drew me out of the dark. We sat and talked, and it was very pleasant to be there. Nobody was really around. Then I woke up. This was the first time I felt any peace after he died. That was the first time I woke up without this heavy, dark cloud on top of me. That made a huge impression on me to help me keep moving forward. The scriptures and books helped me as well. This book I read called Jesus Wept had quotes of parents who have lost children, and again, it validated my feelings.”
This time for my family was heartbreaking. Everyone experienced pain in their own way. Everyone reacted to the loss of Daniel in their own way. It is unexplainable the days that came after Daniel’s passing, but my family pushed through it together. Many moments, it seemed like all hope was gone. Nobody felt hope, but ahead, hope creeped up on our family in small and simple ways. It came through others, and it came through our family. We have understood on a greater level what it means to have a Savior Jesus Christ, the opportunity to be resurrected, and that there truly is a Plan of Happiness and Salvation. We know we will be with Daniel again, and we hope and believe in the day when our family can embrace each other arm in arm. I know I speak for my family in saying that we are eternally grateful for the blessings of the temple. Those blessings are real, and not only for this time right now; they are ETERNAL. Though things weren’t perfect, hope in these blessings and believing Christ is what has gotten us through every day of these last 15 years.
