A tribute to Brittany

[A Real Happening]

As a young girl, I wanted life to to be normal. Now life is normal, and it is not "special" at all.

Growing up, my family was blessed with great specialness. This special package came in the form of epilepsy, weekly seizures that plagued the life of our sweet sister Brittany for twenty-eight years. But through that specialness, Brittany rose above the trials to truly teach all of us how to be better individuals in our own lives. Through the specialness of Brittany, we were lifted to greater heights.

Ten years ago today, Brittany was called home. Her mortal body was freed from its unique challenges. Now to commemorate that anniversary, I have composed a short glimpse into the grand mortal life of Brittany Lee Allred.

Memories:

1. She adored children. Brittany was a magnet. She could spot a child in any situation, and then work her magic to connect with that child. As life went on, it was very painful for her to know that she would not enjoy those blessings of marriage & children in this life (due to her seizures and the limitations they caused). Now when I'm disappointed about something grand, when I don't feel like I have access to some of my expected blessings of life, I reflect on my sister, Brittany. For she understood better than anyone what it is like to have righteous desires, but to have them unfulfilled in this life.
2. Horror movies could have learned from Brittany. After hours and hours of seizure activity, Brittany would reach an awful zombie status. Then the real terror began. She would wander aimlessly through the house (and she usually reached this status after having a series of difficult nights where my parents had also had sleepless nights in carrying for her). One particular rough time, I was nominated to assist. Since Brittany and I shared a room, the idea was to tie a string around my wrist and attach it to the bedroom doorknob. If Brittany tried to exit the room, the string would alert me. Problem is I did not wake when she departed. She walked right out the front door and like a zombie aimlessly moved through the neighborhood. It was the scariest thing. The entire family took off searching through the dark streets. We didn't know if we would find her, or if we did, what condition she would be in. Sadly these awful searches occurred more than once (but only once because of my hand attached to the doorknob scenario.) Sometimes the searches were in the day, other times at night. They didn't happen tons, but the few times they did happen, there was such fear in all of us, it was a period you just don't forget. Others in the community would help us search, and it seemed like hours before she was found. Nevertheless, and THANKFULLY, she was always found.
3. She loved Christmas. The season would arrive and her face would light up like a child's. She shared her innocence and it shone on all of us. Even though she had been told, on several occasions, the truth about Santa - she continued to choose to believe. She made the holiday season incredibly fun. Some of my most cherished memories occurred two weeks before she passed away, where her, my mom and I were busy enjoying the holiday season. It is no wonder Brittany chose to slip home during this appropriate time of year.
4. The last two years of her life, I saw her vulnerability. I saw it in a way I had never seen it before. Many a times she had injured herself during a massive seizure. She had more than her share of scars and stitches. But after I had returned home from my mission, she had two episodes that really impacted me. The first one she hit her head on the marble bench attached to the fireplace, where blood flowed from her head and stained the light colored carpet. The second time, I came home to find a note that my mom and her were at the emergency room. I rushed over to learn that she had had a seizure over the dishwasher while she had been unloading dishes. The corner of the open door had hit her as she crashed down it. The fall left a tweaked dishwasher door and another requirement of stitches for Brittany. Every since I could remember, I had been one of the females in our family who took my turn on bath duty. Brittany could never be left alone to bath by herself on the chance a seizure would suddenly seize her. Now after all these years, I understood. And I began fervently praying that she would not suffer a horrific death due to the danger caused by her epilepsy.
5. Even though by birth, I was the youngest sister, due to the cognitive damage caused by the seizures, Brittany took the place as my little sister. I had an older sister who I looked up to and admired greatly, and then I had Brittany who I watched over and carried for. I had a great responsibility to assist her with so many needs. However the moment she passed on to the next life, I clearly knew she had regained her status as my older sister. A very wise, strong, and courageous sister, who now watches over me.
6. One of my greatest joys was having her volunteer at my work during the few months before she passed away. She LOVED to come help me. I was the Retail Manager at the dinosaur museum at Thanksgiving Point. I would have her come help me sort inventory into categories or place price stickers on items. She enjoyed it so much, and would work long and hard. She amazed me. She was very good at her tasks as long as I made sure that the correct price labels had been given to her to stick on the items. Otherwise she would use what ever price labels she saw. So I tried to be very careful, especially since my staff knew I got "upset" if they mislabeled inventory. Numerous times I had stressed the importance of being aware of what they priced. However soon after Brittany passed away, jewelry showed up in the display case with $0.50 candy bar labels, and candy bars showed up with $60 labels. Those mismatches, after her death, served as a little humorous reminder of her eager service, and the purpose she had felt while working there.
7. When I returned home from my mission, Brittany became my best friend. While I was still adjusting to normal life, plus adjusting to my family's move to Utah from California, and feeling a little unsure of where I belonged, Brittany was there to help. It was with her that I felt safe. Due to circumstances we got to spend lots of time together and I cherish the drives we took. Sometimes we would stop and get ice cream, and sometimes she would talk and sometimes I would talk. It was during this time our relationship grew into a very prized connection.
8. Brittany could make me laugh. Her humor was unmatchable. When I least expected she would spring a joke on me or do something comical, and the closer we grew as sisters and friends the more I valued the special way she could make me laugh.
9. Roughly about a year before she passed away, she underwent an operation where a magnet was placed near her heart. The idea was that when seizure activity began, an external magnet would be run over the implanted magnet and the charges would interrupt the seizure activity. As Brittany prepared for this surgery, she was so optimistic. Desperately she wanted her seizures gone so she could live a normal life. The night before the operation, I asked Brittany if she was scared, and she confided in me she was. It was a very humbling experience to watch her prepare and be so very, very full of hope. After the procedure, the implant did seem to improve some of the seizure activity, but not to the level we had all hoped. Nevertheless we did become dependent on that magnet. Often my mom, Brittany, and I would be seen in public and at the slightest movement of seizure motion my mom or I would go into the panic "Where's the magnet?" "We need the magnet." "Get the magnet." I have since chuckled of what we must have looked like to strangers - a group of women obsessed with finding a magnet.
10. Brittany loved her extended family. She lived to visit her grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins in Utah. She had a connection with each one of them. But once our Grandma Allred passed away in 1994, Brittany was never the same. Then our dad passed away in 1995, and all Brittany wanted to know was "When is Jesus coming back." Her faith had taught her that the Second Coming would come which would free her from her seizures and return her loved ones back to her. As the days, weeks, months, and years passed on and several other close family members passed away, Brittany's plea for when Jesus would return became more urgent. She wanted us to tell her WHEN. "Brittany, we don't know when." "But tell me when," she would say. "Brittany, no one knows when." She would then push us, "Guess. Just guess." Sometimes she moved to desperation, almost anger, because we refused to tell her when. Once I was reading scriptures and offered to read them out loud since we were sharing the same room. As I read, I wondered how much she understood. Until I hit the part of Christ saying, "Behold I come quickly." I skimmed over those lines, finished the chapter and shut the book. But Brittany didn't miss a beat. "What did He say?" She insisted I repeat what I had read. She was constantly watching for the Savior.

I used to believe that someday, Brittany would thank all of her family for taking such care of her in this life. Instead I have since learned that we all have great cause to thank her for what she has done for us. Her specialness has altered all of our lives - as long as we don't forget her.

Thank you, Brittany. Thank you for the life you lived, for the lessons you taught us, for the example you shared, and for the purity and innocence of your heart. Your specialness blessed us all.

Tonight especially, I'm grateful that my parents, my other sister, my brothers, and I all got to share in the magic of what made our family not normal - but rather extraordinarily special.

I love you, Brittany.