As a parent, I fill out many, many registration forms for my three children. Every time I sign them up for something whether that is Vacation Bible School, camp, gym class, or a team sport, I am asked to list the name and phone number of an emergency contact. Thankfully no one has ever needed to call an emergency contact regarding my children. Either they've been able to reach me, or there has been no need to contact anyone. Wednesday night a little after 10pm I received my very first phone call because I was listed as someone else's emergency contact. In August 2018 my brother, Maurice, moved to Philadelphia. There were many factors he considered when he selecting where to pursue his Ph.D. He had the amazing fortune to have THREE prestigious institutions offer to fund his Ph.D. - NYU, the University of Pennsylvania, and the University of Texas at Austin. One of the many reasons he selected Penn was because I live in Pennsylvania. We both found comfort in the idea of living in the same state. I have always had a good relationship with my brother, but we had
been in contact with each other far more frequently over the last three years. While our mom was alive, she kept in touch with each of us individually and then sent daily emails that kept us abreast as to what was going on in our sibling's lives. Her passing in July 2016 forced us to reach out directly to our siblings more regularly. The last 2.5 years my brother has frequently called me, emailed me, or texted me just to chat or whenever he had a decision to make such as should I take this course or that course. It's not surprising that he had me listed as his emergency contact, but it was VERY shocking to hear the words no sister wants to hear about her 35 year old brother.
My phone almost never rings after 10:00pm, and I very rarely answer a call if I don't recognize the phone number. I did pick up immediately that night. The last time I had heard from my brother was Sunday afternoon. He didn't always immediately respond to texts, but it was unlike him to go that many days without responding to a message on Facebook's Messenger. I called Wendy on Wednesday evening around 6:15pm and told her I was worried about Maurice. I asked if she could tell if Maurice had been on Facebook. There had been times in the past that he had retreated into a time of solitude, but even during those times, he'd still click like on pictures and posts on Facebook. When she realized he hadn't been on Facebook since Sunday, our anxiety levels skyrocketed. I kept telling myself that we were probably worried about nothing, but there was a tightness in my chest as I feared something was wrong. At that point my "worst case scenario" was that he had been hospitalized and didn't have access to his phone or iPad, and that was why we hadn't heard from him. The reason I thought he might be in a hospital was because he told us on Friday that he had another episode of fainting. He sent us a picture showing the injuries to his face from falling when he passed out. We urged him to go to the doctor. He did so that afternoon. She had some bloodwork done and gave him a referral to a cardiologist. She thought it was most likely a cardiological issue. Her second option was something metabolic (which could be detected from the blood work). If nothing came from the bloodwork and cardiology appointment, then she was going to have him see a neurologist. When I didn't hear from him, I thought maybe he passed out again and had gone to a hospital. I had urged him to go to the ER if he had another episode.
While I was at choir rehearsal on Wednesday night, Wendy called the campus police and asked them to do a wellness check of Maurice at his apartment and also check with the local hospitals to try to locate him. He didn't respond to their knocking the first time they went to his apartment. Wendy suggested that maybe he was with friends since this week was spring break at Penn. I said that typically when he had any free time, he liked to play a video game. I logged onto Steam, and saw that he was not active. He was listed as being "away." I sent him a message through Steam since he hadn't responded to my text messages, phone calls, or messages I sent through Facebook. When I saw the phone call was from the Philadelphia area, I figured it had something to do with Maurice. When the police officer began to introduce two other individuals who were taking part in the phone call, my heart began to race. When you realize a chaplain is calling you, it's NOT good. However I still was in shock when they told me they had found his body in his apartment. I remember screaming "NO!". I am usually asleep in bed before 10:00pm. I thought surely this is a nightmare. This can't really be happening. I wanted answers. I wanted more information, and they were unable to give it to me. They couldn't tell me when he died or the cause of death except they said it appeared to be a medical cause not foul play. They began asking me questions as far as what did I want done with the body, when was I coming to Philadelphia, etc. I said I needed to talk to other family members and would call them back the next morning.
Paul ran to me when he heard me screaming during the phone call, and when I told him the news he had the same shocked and pained expression of NO! on his face when I told him the news. He sat on the couch and held me tightly as I called Wendy. Since she had been the one to call the police, I thought she should be the next person to know. I called Wendy. She had been the one to call me in 2016 and tell me our mom had passed away. Now I had to tell her that our brother had joined our mom in Heaven. We determined that she would call our Dad while I called our sister, Yvonne. It can be hard to reach Yvonne since she lives in Turkey, and I wasn't sure what time it was over there. Thankfully it didn't take many attempts for me to reach them, and it was close to the time they would normally get up in the morning. After that I called my Aunt Janet, left a message asking my Aunt Tina to call me, called a cousin on my mom's side in Indiana because I don't know my Aunt Lucene's phone number, and called my dad's cousin in Pittsburgh. Yvonne called one of Maurice's best friends in Maryland who is also a pastor (Mark). Mark was going to call some of Maurice's closest friends as we wanted them to find our personally rather than via a public avenue such as Facebook. I sent some private messages on Facebook to people in that church whom I also thought it would be better if they found out personally. I attempted to go to bed at 1:00am, but I couldn't sleep. My mind would not stop racing. I finally fell asleep a few hours later, and even though I slept only 30 minutes I definitely felt a little better when I woke up. The next morning my Aunt Tina called me back, and I delivered the sad news one more time.
We were told the autopsy information would be available after 1:30pm on Thursday. We hoped to learn the cause and day of death, but that information is not yet available. We might find out within the next 18 weeks once the heart tissue and toxicology reports come back. It seems they are leaning toward it possibly having been a cardiac problem. He was found lying on the floor on his back. He wasn't bruised so it doesn't seem like he fell down. Maybe he was feeling faint or having heart palpitations and that caused him to lie on the floor. I hope with all my heart and soul that it was as painless a process as possible for him. I know the Holy Spirit was with him, but I also hope that he didn't feel lonely at the time. On Friday I had told him I was wanting to go be with him when I heard that he had fainted, but Paul was in Kentucky on a business trip, and it takes 3 to 3.5 hours for me to drive to Philadelphia. Had I known what I do now, I would have taken the kids so we could have seen him one last time. When Wendy and I go to Philadelphia tomorrow to clean out his apartment we are hoping to find his will (so we know if he wanted to be buried or cremated) and also so we can possibly determine the day he passed away. It could have been as early as Sunday night or as late as Wednesday. I'm hoping that we can figure it out as we look at his phone, iPad, and computer. It is disconcerting not to know what day he died. This week was spring break at Penn. If he had passed during a week that classes were being held, his absence would have been noticed earlier. Unfortunately the years that he lived alone (in Brazil, Texas, and now in Philadelphia), this was his worst nightmare - that he would die alone and the stench of his body would be what caused people to realize he had passed away. In hindsight, I wish we had called the police earlier than Wednesday, but I know that he is in Glory now and it doesn't actually matter how long it took for his body to be discovered. I only care because that was something that troubled him when he was alive. I know his spirit went to Glory immediately.
I hope that his death was sudden and that he wasn't lying on the floor alert yet unable to get help for an extended period of time. I do realize he was spared a long agonizing illness like my mom experienced for 6 months in 2016. An unexpected death means the process of dying was quicker and easier for him than the battle with cancer my mom bravely endured. However for the family and friends I think unexpected deaths are harder to process emotionally. I actually was praying for God to take my mom to Heaven because it pained me to see her suffering. I never prayed anything like that for my brother. I keep thinking this is not happening. It feels surreal. My brother couldn't have died only one month after he turned 35, but he did. I'm sure it will eventually sink in. From July 2016 to the present I have trusted that God had a good reason for taking my mom to Heaven what seemed "early" to me. Considering she lived twice as long as Maurice, it feels odd to refer to her death as early, but many people do live beyond the age of 71. With Maurice's passing, I now see two possible "reasons" that maybe it was a blessing that my mom passed away at the age of 71. Not that I think I can understand the mind of God!!! First, I am picturing my brother embracing my mom in Heaven. I a sure Heaven would be an amazing place to be for my brother even if my mom wasn't there, but it just seems to me that it makes Heaven an even better place to be since he could be reunited with his mom whom he missed oh so much. Second, I cannot imagine my mom going through the experience of outliving one of her children. I am not saying it's been an easy week for our Dad, but in my opinion, it would have been a million times harder for my mom. I know the Lord would have helped her though it if she had to walk that path, but I am very, very grateful my mom didn't have to experience the agony of having a son die in his 30's.
I realize this is going to be a long post, but I feel the need to write a sort of tribute to my brother. I am not sure if I'll give a eulogy next week mostly because I am doubtful that I could get through it without sobbing. And I have too much to say. It would be too long of a eulogy. So here goes.
Dear Maurice,
I vividly remember when Dad told us that Mom was carrying you. I was ELATED. That news was better than any birthday present or Christmas gift anyone could have given me. I remember Mom got very, very weary of the little song I loved to sing around the house that had very repetitive lyrics "Mommy's having a baby, Mommy's having a baby" repeated over and over. It was not a creative song, but it showed that I loved you even before you were born. My teachers were flustered when I came to school the day after you were born because I only said "Mommy had a baby!" and they wanted to know your gender, ha ha! After three girls, Dad finally had a son! Dad didn't have any brothers, and he wanted the Harton name to continue.
The last few weeks of your pregnancy were very difficult for mom. I was afraid she was going to be in a car accident due to driving while having contractions. Thankfully that didn't happen. Once you were born, we discovered that your skull shape was the reason she had such a prolonged delivery. I loved you and thought you were beautiful from the moment I saw you, but I know that your unique face caused you emotional heartache your entire life. Even the last time I took your picture in November 2018 I saw you adjusting the fox scarf so less of your face would show when I took your picture. When you were young I remember thinking that it seemed to me you had the worst of both worlds. Most adults have the good sense not to make comments, but because adults misinterpreted the situation, you got comments from them as well. I think of someone like the boy from Wonder (a movie you said you couldn't bear to watch given how strongly you could relate). It's expected (unfortunately) that kids will make comments, but you dealt with not only teasing by children but also adults saying things like "why are you angry?" when you were actually happy. To avoid these comments I remember how when we were standing in line at the grocery store, you would hide your face in my skirt. I am certain you are no longer bothered by your appearance in Heaven.
When I came home from school I couldn't wait to hold you and take care of you when you were an infant. You were my resume that enabled me to begin being paid as a babysitter for other families. Can you believe I was paid less than $1/ hour for caring for multiple children? Times have changed! I loved it when you called me "Mommy," but Mom was NOT happy when you called her "Ruth." As a middle schooler I thought it was hysterical. I think you did that in part because I was taller than Mom, and also because I cared for you in some of the same ways that she did. I had a very strong mothering instinct. Even at that age I longed for the day I would become a mom, and so I got a bit of practice with you. Because I had already reached my full height (5 ft 6 1/2 inches), mom eventually wouldn't let me push your stroller because she grew weary of strangers assuming I was your mother. When Dad was doing pulpit supply in Pennsylvania one Sunday, a woman in the nursery actually had the audacity to accuse mom of lying. The woman made a comment about it was sweet that the Grandma (meaning Mom) and Mom (me) were dropping you off. When Mom said that she was the mother of both of us, the woman responded "yeah right." Yikes! Again I thought it was funny, but mom certainly did not. I totally understand her response as I have already received similar comments when people have assumed I was the grandma of my children. After mom passed away, I loved how you called me frequently when you had decisions to make. I loved being your big sister and a sort of second mother to you. Most siblings have some spats and such, but that wasn't the case between you and I.
You were such an intelligent person. I remember how we discovered that you had taught yourself to read prior to the age of five. You were reading the Bible verses in Cubbies that were to be memorized. Your teacher had no idea she should make it so you couldn't see the words considering most three and four year olds are not capable of reading Bible verses independently! I remember the LENGTHY letters you wrote me when you were 6-8 years old while I was in Ohio from 1990-92. My roommates were stunned when I showed them the lengthy letters written on lined notebook paper that my young brother had written - particularly when they saw that portions of the letters were in German! I remember in 1989-90 when I was attending college in Maryland that when I got home from school you wanted me to explain what I had learned in my classes that day. You were only five years old and we had conversations about what I was learning in my chemistry class. That was the class you wanted to hear the most about. It's no shock to me that you excelled in your Master's degree program at UT Austin, and I believe with all my heart that you would have completed your Ph.D. at Penn if the Lord hadn't called you home before that could happen. I loved hearing about all the amazing feedback you got in January when you spoke at the conference in San Diego. I admit I feel sad that you were not able to continue your research as you received feedback from others who invited you to speak at other conferences (in places like Australia!), publish articles, write a book, etc. You were a brilliant author. I still have your thesis saved on my computer. I feel badly that I hadn't finished reading it yet, but I will keep my promise and finish reading it this year even though you have already gone to Glory. The last time we heard from you was Sunday afternoon, and on that day you sent your sisters your answers to a take home exam. Again we were all impressed at your knowledge and also writing skills. I believe you would have been a fabulous professor or archaeologist or a tremendous asset to a museum had your life been long enough for that to happen.
You were such an empathetic and compassionate person. You were compassionate not judgmental. You loved with a fierce love. You were a great listener. I knew without a doubt you absolutely had my back. I know I thanked you, but I'm not sure you will ever know exactly how much it meant to me. That is just one of the many ways that I feel a void in my life right now with your passing. You were fabulous with children. Your creativity and skills with drama were an asset when playing with your nieces and nephews. You were a fabulous uncle. I wish they had more years with Uncle Maurice, but I am thankful for the memories that they do have. Ian cried his little heart out when he found out you had gone to Heaven. Last August we inherited some of your stuffed animals and some of your paintings that you had done in high school. The paintings are on the walls of our living room plus all three kids each have some on the walls in their bedrooms. We had enjoyed these for months, but now that you have passed they are even more special to us. Similarly, your beloved stuffed animals that were hard for you to part with are also even more treasured following your passing. Ian renamed your former tiger "Maurice." He has been sleeping with "Maurice" the tiger and a plush heart that Mom gave him in 2016. He finds comfort in sleeping with two plush items that were given to him by his Grandma and Uncle who are not with us anymore. Ian says he thinks about how you and Grandma loved him while he snuggles with them.
You had many diverse interests. You weren't really into music. You were delighted when Mom let you stop learning to play the piano. You weren't really into sports (watching or playing them). You loved animals. The fact that your email address had an animal in it (
jaguarundi) is not a surprise. When you started college you first planned to get a degree in entomology. Foxes and peregrine falcons were two of your favorite animals. I loved the way you decorated your apartment with fox things and your fox scarf that you were wearing when we saw you last in November. You had a lengthy life list of birds you had seen over the years. Although your interests expanded to include history, when you were younger you weren't too impressed with my vacation plans because they included too many historical tours (places like Monticello) and not enough birding outings. Your spotting scope was one of your prized possessions. Math wasn't your favorite subject, but you loved science, art, drama, and history. You preferred ancient history over modern. You knew so much about SO many different topics. Blew. Me. Away.
You loved playing games whether that meant Minecraft or the Wii or playing role play games. I remember how excited you were when the professor at Penn asked you to do an analysis of the accuracy of a video game that was set in an ancient time. Playing a video game for your doctoral program? A combination of two things you loved! Because you never married, your friends were even more important to you. You had many friends, and I'm hesitant to list their names as I know I'll omit some important ones, but you were in several weddings as a groomsman or best man. I know you referred to your D&D group as your "found family." I am so thankful that you had many deep friendships. I know that it's not just your family who are really grieving your loss. I'm thankful that you were able to make a trip to Maryland last month for your birthday. I had no idea at that point it would be your last trip to Maryland. Although you loved to play, you were also a hard worker. You put in an incredible amount of hours studying each week while you were in graduate school.
You loved the Lord. I am so, so, so grateful that I know your destiny was secure. I know you are with Jesus and with Mom. I miss you something fierce, but at least I know I will see you again some day. When I found that you had passed one of my first responses was that I wished the Lord would return as SOON as possible so that I wouldn't have to wait too long to be reunited with you and Mom. Life on earth can be very hard. You are freed from the emotional pain that we all go through here on earth.
You were very affectionate. "Physical touch" was definitely one of your primary love languages. From a young age you loved having your back scratched, and that was still true in 2018. I can still picture you climbing on Mom's lap even when you were much taller than her. I am hoping my kids will be like you and still want to hug me when they are teenagers and adults.
You loved to follow traditions. You loved to have rainbow sprinkle cake and frosting (or was it called Funfetti?) for your birthday. You were the one to pass out the Christmas gifts. We missed you at Christmas this past year. It wasn't the same without you. I only remember two Christmases in your whole life that we weren't together - your first December when you were in Brazil and 2018. Now that I know it was your last Christmas, I wish even more that you had been here, but that's water under the bridge. Speaking of Christmas traditions, I was the one who took you shopping each year, and you insisted that we visit the same stores every year in the same exact order.
For many years you struggled with breathing issues and sleep apnea. Our cousin, Brent, was the one who made the first comment which lead to that diagnosis. It was imperative that you sleep at a certain angle which meant for several years you slept in a reclining chair rather than a bed. I find comfort knowing that you are no longer struggling to breathe or dealing with apnea. If there is pollen in heaven, I am certain it won't bother you like it did here on earth. You also preferred cooler temperatures, even though you chose to live in Brazil and Texas, ha ha! I am certain that whatever the temperature is in Heaven, you are perfectly comfortable. You had urological surgeries when you were young, and both of my boys had that same surgery. You and I both are sleep walkers. Like Dad, you dealt with acid reflux and had modified your diet and lost 50 pounds recently to reduce these issues.
I'm sure as soon as I hit "publish" on this post I will think of many more things I "should" have included, but this will have to do for now. I am eternally grateful that there wasn't any conflict between the two of us when you passed away. We talked for almost an hour on Friday night. Had I known it would be our last conversation, I would have talked for many more hours. I am very grateful that the last three words we said to each other were "I love you." The last thing you typed to me on the FB messenger on Sunday afternoon was an affirming statement about my interactions with my children. When Mom passed I knew the last time I talked to her it was the last time I would talk to her and so I was able to say whatever I wanted to say, but I didn't get that opportunity with you because your death was unexpected. I do remember saying many positive things to you over the years, and so I just have to hope that you knew exactly how much I loved you and how much I admired you and how proud I was of you. I'm grateful we visited you in November. I was looking forward to seeing you again in May, but instead I'm driving to your apartment tomorrow morning to clean it out. Heartbreaking. I am so grateful that the Lord gave me you to by my baby brother. I wish I had more years with you on earth, but I'm thankful for the 35 we did have.
I will always love and miss you. I can't wait to give you another hug when I join you in Glory some day. Give mom a hug for me.
Love,
Ruth
