“BLUNT FORCE HEAD AND CHEST TRAUMA”
I read the words on the death certificate and tears sting my
eyes; I catch my breath. My chest tightens up and the room starts to spin. “So,
this is how they will say you died,” I whisper to an empty room.
I can still see how you died. I can still see the look in
your caramel-brown eyes as you slid past me and over the edge of the granite
cliff. I can still see the dark red blood pouring from the back of your head
onto the stone side of the mountain and onto my shoes. I can still see your
eyes swollen shut as you bled from your nose and your mouth. I know how you
died. It continues to haunt me every night.
Yet, I must remember
how you lived. You lived with so much gusto. You crammed as much living as you
possibly could into every moment. Sometimes it annoyed me. “Can’t you just sit
still and read a book?” A ridiculous request, I know; but sometimes it was
exhausting just watching you live. However, you were an excellent salesman. You
sold me on life and love. We laughed and
cried through every quest, always searching for the next adventure. You taught
me to be brave. You taught me how to live fully as if every day were my last.
But most importantly, you taught me to love—to love God and to love you.
I will miss you as long as I live; yet, I live in hope that
one day we will be reunited. God holds me tightly in His ever loving arms as He
ever so gently carries me through this nightmare. The ache in my heart is
unbearable. My whole being yearns for you. Still, I am thankful—thankful for
the years we shared, thankful for the father and husband you were, and thankful
for God’s guidance in our marriage.
Yes, you died violently and early. Yet you lived
passionately and abundantly. That is what I will commit to memory. That is how
I will remember you.
