Lost

Thirteen

October 3, 2017. Four weeks and six days since Brock fell into his second coma. Three weeks and one day left for him to wake up.

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Five of us were at home once again and four of us were doing what we have been for the past month or so— watching Shaytard videos. They were being played on the TV and we were all snuggled on the couch together, remembering each and every moment that was filmed and the moments that the viewers didn't get the chance to see.

We were informed by Brock's doctor last week that Brock had a 15% chance of survival. He told us that going into a coma for so long is extremely unhealthy and it is very rare for someone to wake up after being out for so long, especially at Brock's age. We haven't given hope completely, but it's starting to fade as the days pass. We all know deep down that even if does wake, he'll have difficulties in the future. We know that he's a fighter, but I don't know how much longer his little body can fight for. But I need him to wake up. I need him to keep fighting because Brockules is my superhero and I don't know if I can survive without him.

We had been visiting the hospital less and less and we had stopped having a family member there 24/7, not because we've given up, but because everybody needs rest. We needed to normalize our lives a bit more. However, since the doctor told us the news, mom and dad have been switching off staying there for the day. Just in case something happens.

I looked up at the screen, I had spaced out once again. I've found it harder and harder to focus these days. I always find my mind wandering. But anyway, the screen was playing the video of Daxton's birth. I can't believe that that was almost four years ago. Dad was at the hospital with Brock tonight. Mom was finishing cooking dinner while watching the TV with us. Gavin was playing with Daxton on the floor in front of the TV. I was sprawled across the couch trying to focus on school, but failing. Willow was sleeping.

Mom called us all into the dining room to eat and placed the food in front of us, the sound of Daxton's birth video blasting in the background. Tonight's dinner was chicken and mashed potatoes. I sat down next to mom and Gavin sat across from me, with Daxton by his side. The head of the table had an empty chair, usually occupied by dad. Next to me was also empty, where Avia always sat. On the other side of Gavin was Brock's seat— also unoccupied. The huge dining table that was once so hectic and full was now quiet and seemingly empty. Our small family of four sat and ate. Making small talk about our day, the old vlogs and occasionally, someone would mention the four people we were missing from our household— dad, Avia, Brock and Savannah.

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After dinner, Gavin and I were helping mom clean up when her phone rang. I was closest to mom's phone, which was playing music while we cleaned, and read the caller ID that read  Shay❤️. Dad. I didn't know if it was good or bad. I handed the phone to mom. She picked up.

"Hey babe," she said happily.
She didn't say anything for a while and left the room. I tried to ignore it and convince myself that everything was okay, but deep down, I knew it wasn't. Something was wrong. Gavin and I continued to clean the kitchen. In silence.

Ten minutes later, mom came back. Her face was red and she was crying. Crying the way she did when Avia died. She didn't need to say anything, Gavin and I knew. We ran over to mom and hugged her. And we started to cry as well. We just stood there in a giant hug. Crying. No words needed to be said.

"Daxton!" Mom called after a bit, her voice shaky and her breaths uneven, "get in the car."

She went to get Willow and buckled her into her seat. No one said a word the whole ride there. No one needed to. Daxton was still unaware of what was happened, but understood that something was wrong, so he refrained from saying anything. Willow was still asleep. Gavin was next to mom in the front. I couldn't see them, but I could tell that they were both crying. I was too. I couldn't bare it.

"Room 208," mom said when we arrived.

We entered the room and dad was sitting there, his head in his hands. I could hear his cries. He looked up at the sound of the creaky door. His face was covered in tears and his eyes were red. I went over to him and sat in his lap and cried. Gavin and mom came over and wrapped their arms around me and dad. Our whole family was a mess. We sat around dad, all crying. Mom was the first to break free. She went over the the hospital bed and whispered something to Brock. She came up to us.

"I think you should all go over and say your goodbyes," she said.
We nodded and I went over first. I looked at him. He was lying in bed. Peaceful. Lifeless. Pale. Limp. Dead. I kissed him on the head and whispered to him.
"I love you Brocky," I whispered.
Nothing else needed to be said. He knew how much he meant to me. He knew how much I missed him. He knew that I loved him more than anything. He knew that he meant the world to me.

I was taking this easier than Avia's, for sure, but it's not because I didn't love him. I loved my little superhero to death. I didn't want to loose my little brother. I didn't want him to join Avia, but I've come to the realization that everything happens for a reason. It's truly his time, I know he is no longer in so much pain. He's safe now. And my little Brocko's final words were "I'm a fighter." And he sure was. Brockules Butler would always be my little fighter.

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Author's Note:
I didn't know that I could get that emotional. You learn something new everyday? Love y'all so much! (Don't ask why I just said y'all...) New update soon! I promise. - L