That night, before they went their separate ways to get some sleep, they posted the invitation on Facebook, hoping that somebody, even if it was only a few people, would be willing to take the time away from their finals to sing to Emily. They told everyone that they intended to record it and post it, and also that they would send it to us to play in Emily’s room on her seventh birthday. The day after they arrived home, one of their friends, Nick Hope, made a happy birthday banner for Emily. Becky and Ariana unrolled that banner in front of the student bookstore, encouraging passersby to write happy birthday messages on it for Emily.
That afternoon, Becky and Ariana gathered up the banner from the bookstore and made their way to the HUB, and their jaws dropped. They had expected they’d see some people from THON and more from PRSSA, plus a few others, but the whole place was full. The HUB is a big open space with a long, wide stairway leading up from the main floor, where Ariana and Becky planned to unfurl the banner. A balcony where students gather to eat and to study wraps around the open space. The whole floor of the HUB was jammed with students and there were hundreds more crammed onto the balcony, ready to sing to Emily.
The two girls stood at the top of the stairs in awe.
“This is going to do it,” Ariana said to Becky. “With so many people here, how could this positive energy not get to Emily in Philadelphia? All this love from all these people who support her.”
“You have to get real about this,” Becky said. “She’s not going to make it.”
“She’s absolutely going to make it!” Ariana shouted back.
“The priest came and gave her last rites!” Becky shouted.
“And she’s still here! And he said there could be a miracle!”
“You and Tom, you have to get off of your cloud and back to the real world,” Becky said.
So there they were, two girls whom everyone knew as best friends, who had only come together because of Emily, standing in front of hundreds of people at their student center screaming at each other at the tops of their lungs.
Off at the edge of the crowd someone started to sing “Happy Birthday,” and the strength of that song grew as more and more people started to join. Becky and Ariana looked up from their argument and grabbed their cell phones to film the moment. Even if it was still in doubt whether Emily would make it, these students at the HUB were not going to let that stop them from wishing and praying for Emily.
At around the same time Becky and Ariana were coordinating the idea for the birthday sing-along in the HUB, my brothers were arriving back in Philipsburg. Jim was so exhausted that all he wanted to do was go home and get some sleep. He hadn’t seen his family in days, and he knew he was scheduled to work the next day. He just wanted to slip into bed and try not to think about what was happening with his niece. Both he and Greg were pretty sure it wouldn’t be long before they were back on the road to Philadelphia to support me as I watched Emily die. Maybe there would be a moment—and it wouldn’t be too long—when I would have to decide, as Jim had told me to do, that I had to let Emily go. Unthinkable as that was, against everything they knew about me, they knew that they would be there to support me if it came to that. Their mood was the same as the one that had colored the car ride home for Becky and Ariana.
Just before they got to Philipsburg, Jim got a call from Big Jim telling him he couldn’t go home, not just yet. Some people were organizing a vigil in support of Emily at Cold Stream Park and Big Jim wanted someone from the family to provide an update on Emily to whoever showed up.
Jim does not enjoy public speaking and, anyway, this was about the last thing in the world he wanted to do that evening, but he said yes. When he and Greg rounded the driveway into the park, their jaws dropped. There were hundreds of people along the shores and more crammed into the amphitheater at the back of the area around the dam. There were policemen and firemen, as well as large church groups, Girl Scout and Boy Scout troops, kids from surrounding schools, guys from our union and our job, and people from our family church of Saints Peter and Paul.
Jim knew his voice would never project loudly enough for all these hundreds of people to hear, so he asked Gary if he could borrow the loudspeaker from the patrol car. Gary handed him the microphone and he stood with his feet in the floor of the patrol car so all the people who were there for Emily could see him.
He started off slowly, talking about how Emily was fighting, but it was a big battle, and the battle was a tough one for a little girl to win. He talked about her in the intensive care unit and how the monsignor had come to perform the anointing of the sick.
Back in Philadelphia, I don’t know what came over me at that moment, but something whispered to me that I needed to call Jim,
