November 28, 2007…this is a day that forever changed our family. The night before, Bob and the kids had talked about a ball game. He had taken vacation that week and didn’t want them to go. They really did want to go and there was some discussion as to whether or not they would be able to do so.
I got up that morning and got ready for work. Bob was going to send the kids off to school and then work on the yard until it was time to pick them up. At about 10:30 that morning, I called home and asked if he wanted to go to lunch. He said we might later that week but right now, he wanted to get the yard done. We told each other “I love you” and hung up.
Little did we know that these were the last words we would say to each other.
That afternoon when Bob wasn’t there to pick up the kids, they decided that they could go to the game. Thank God for this decision!
About 5:30 that evening, I arrived home from work. Bob’s truck was in the drive but nobody answered me when I walked in the door. I wondered what was going on but thought Bob’s parents might have come by and went somewhere with him and the kids. So, I called his mom and she answered. Ok….they hadn’t come by. Where could they be? I looked out the window and saw the tractor in front of the shed. Odd.
I went outside and, as I did, I could see our dog Shadow lying on the rock alongside the tractor. Odder still. Why wasn’t he moving? Then, I saw Bob lying next to the tractor. My heart sank and I ran to him. I dropped to his side. I couldn’t find a heartbeat or feel his breath. As I sat by his side, I realized I had left my cell phone in the house. I ran back for the phone to dial 911 and then ran back to my husband —phone in hand. I was panicking. Although I had been trained in CPR, I asked the person on the phone to guide me as I was struggling to think. Breath, dammit, breath! You can’t leave me dammit! In my mind, I knew that I was too late…but my heart just would not accept it as I tried to breathe life back into my husband’s lifeless body. I had to just be missing the heartbeat. He HAD to be breathing and I just couldn’t hear it.
Paramedics came and tried to revive my husband. I started to think about my kids…where were they? Why weren’t they home? What happened to them? I grabbed someone and showed them pictures. I wanted my kids. I needed my kids. An officer kept trying to calm me down and said they would find them. After what seemed like an eternity (though it was just a few minutes), I was told that they had found my kids and that someone would get them and bring them to the hospital. The paramedics loaded Bob into an ambulance and I was put into a car with someone to get me to the hospital. I called some family and a friend who let others know that we were headed to the hospital.
The kids were enjoying the basketball game when the police entered looking for them. When dad hadn’t showed up, they thought he had changed his mind and decided they could go to the game. The entrance of the police had the kids scared…their backgrounds (all my children had been adopted from foster care) had taught them that this could not be good. Thankfully, one of the moms at the game left with them so that they would not be alone. I am forever grateful to that mother who helped when I could not.
When we got to the hospital, they ushered us into a small room. Distraught, I sat there and waited as his parents and family, my mother, friends and our Pastor arrived at the hospital. We sat and waited….and prayed…and waited…and prayed…..and waited. It seemed like an eternity that we were sitting in that room. Finally, my Pastor asked me if I wanted him to find out what was going on and I said yes. Soon, Pastor came back and told us that Bob had left us. The tears started to pour.
Sometime later, the doctor came to tell us the news. My husband was officially pronounced dead at 6:30 that evening. He seemed upset when he discovered that our Pastor had already given us the news. Later, I would think about that. Who did he think I would want to hear that from? The man responsible for guiding my spiritual journey in life or the man who could not save my husband? Obviously, I would prefer it from my Pastor.
As we were processing this information, some medical staff came into the room and tried to talk to me about organ donation (in front of my children!). Furious, I led them out of the room and let them continue the discussion. If they had handled this discussion in a better manner, I probably would have allowed it; however, their manner so frustrated me that I denied their request. Then, I was ushered into a room with a police officer and doctor who informed me that, due to my husband’s age, an autopsy would be performed. In shock, I signed the necessary paperwork and then returned to my family.
My journey as widow had begun.
