His lifeless body slumped in the beaten Adirondack chair. My very meaning of life gone before my eyes. All senses seemingly disappeared. Doing my best to drag him to the ground so CPR could be preformed. Feeling the crack of his ribs beneath the first compression. How long was he there? How long had I been trying to bring life back into his body? I remember the police officer helping me roll him over to clear his airways and taking over compressions for me. I never heard the sirens of the ambulance or any other emergency crew that arrived. He was taken from me and whisked away. I would not see him again until he was an icy shell of a man laying on the hospital table. Holding his frozen hand I kissed his forehead one last time and said my goodbyes.
This was the last interaction I would have with my husband. He never knew I was there and his death was so quick that I doubt he had time to think of anything either. That night became hell on earth for me. How could the man who played with me as we kissed goodbye in the morning be gone now. How could it be that I would never get to sit next to him at the dinner table again. So many why’s and what for’s ransack my thinking. Nothing I could have done would have brought him back, it was his time. And while the memory of that awful night still haunts me I try to hold on to the good times and cherish all the wonderful times we had. He would not want me to focus on the ugliness of his death, but on what made us laugh. Tomorrow is a special memorial for all Organ and tissue donors. Through his death he was able to help one hundred people. It is a remarkable thing what science can do. So while my heart grieves I also celebrate his life.