It’s 10:29am.
At this time 6 months ago, I was sitting on our old green couch.
Adam was sitting to my right, my best friend J was sitting to my left.
She was in my arms.
The hospice nurse had arrived a few minutes earlier and had confirmed, it was time.
The medicine wasn’t easing her symptoms of labored breathing anymore. It was time to let her go home.
Adam had put on some worship music, playing on his phone, as we took in every last bit of her. I remember not wanting to blink and quickly trying to clear the tears away from my eyes so my vision of her wouldn’t be blurred. We told her how proud of her we were and how much we loved her. And told her she would be home with Jesus soon.
It’s 10:40am now. The time she got to see Jesus and be wrapped up in His arms. The time she was free of her broken body. The time my heart broke, again.
I haven’t stopped to remember during the time in a while. I think I’ve kept myself busy subconsciously, but today I came at a stand still where I wasn’t sure what to do next. And, I noticed the time.
I think Jesus brought me here to this place in time to remember on purpose today. I don’t really know why? They’re really hard memories. And sometimes I feel mad at God that I have to live with this kind of a memory. But, I find some comfort in that -like I mentioned before-it’s agony He knows. He watched his child take his last breath too.
It’s 10:46am now. J reminded me to hold her my favorite way. So I lifted her body up to my chest and let her head fall on my shoulder one last time. It didn’t feel the same though.
I can’t wait to hold her that way again.
I don’t remember how much time had passed, but next they came to take her body away. This part was excruciating. My whole body was weak when I handed her to Adam to give to the strange man in the black suit. J held me up. It felt like someone had cut out my heart and given it away to a stranger. I know that sounds dramatic, but it was dramatic. I think its moments like this that word was made for.
I might regret posting this one day, or maybe in a week, or an hour, or a minute. We’ll see. I resisted coming here for a good 20 minutes as I was watching the clock tick closer to 10:40. But, I thought I could cry alone with my memories or I could cry and make something from my pain this morning.
May it never ever be wasted.
6 months closer to you, Brooklyn Bear.
-Brooklyn’s Mommy
Hull Family Story 
Please be assured the moment was not wasted. Your precious daughter, your words….have touched my heart deeply. Praying for you and Adam today especially.
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Sending love and hugs to you today, Corrie! Thank you for sharing what’s on your heart, it lets us know how to pray for you and Adam.
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Oh my gosh. Tears. I’ve never heard you tell all of these details. Thank you so much for sharing. This breaks my heart in whole new way. Love you guys.
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Corrie, I have to say that I am in awe of how honest and strong you are. When I lost my mom, I couldn’t be as honest as you are now. I still don’t know if I have the courage to share everything, and I know for sure that I didn’t have as much faith as you do when my mom left to be with God almost 6 years ago. I do remember writing one post about the day she passed. What I did leading up to that moment, the moment we asked her to keep breathing, and everything that followed. I even wrote that I wasn’t sure why I was writing that post or if I would keep it. It felt good but odd at the same time to be that vulnerable publicly. I ended up deleting the post because I didn’t want to be reminded of it. Now, I wish I kept a copy or left it up. Although those memories are still as vivid, sometimes I’d like to reread it, but it is already gone. Thank you for sharing, thank you for being so strong, and thank you for showing how amazing faith can be.
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Abby didn’t want to eat lunch today, and evrytime I put the spoon in her mouth she spit the food at me. But you make us all grateful, even for those times. Many of us take those things for granted, but these posts will never let me. Thank you Corrie. I have a feeling you have a lot of little embraces coming your way and will we keep you both in our thoughts and prayers.
Hug each lots today so you can feel Brooks love!
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Speechless. I will be praying for you and Adam during this difficult day, the days before today, and the many days to follow. Much love to you both.
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Sobbing as I read and reread your words. Thank you( which feels so small and insignificant) for sharing.
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Corrie-you don’t really know me. I met you once at the Pottery Barn outlet in San Marcos. I grew up with Adam though, and because of this connection, I have been following your journey. I’m thankful you’re blogging. Thankful you’re being so real in the middle of a pain I can’t understand. Thank you for letting us glimpse what a real, authentic relationship with Christ looks like: the good, the bad, the fear, and the joy.
I’m praying for you today, and every time I see your sweet husband put something on Instagram. You, Adam, and Brooklyn have reminded me that our God is alive. Praying for renewed joy.
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So tender and so raw. Thank you for allowing us to share in this with you. Been trying to type other things to share here but can’t make it work. I’m not as good with words as you are. Please just know that we love you guys so very much.
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