When a Beautiful Day Makes You Want to Cry

On April 8, 2011 I got the best news of my life. I was pregnant!! My husband, Randy, and I married at 19, but wanted to wait to have children. Finally, just over four years later we were expecting. I could not wait to tell him. I wrapped the tests in tissue paper and put them in a big box and went up to his work. Of course, he was right in the middle of something, but was able to pull away to see what in the world i could need. I never just showed up at his work. He guessed what was in the box before he could even get to the tests. The look on his face was priceless. It was a mix of childish fear and his first beam of a father's pride. He stared into space for a little while then looked at me, smiled, and said," Okay, let's do this!"

The next few months were filled with absolute joy! We bought our first home, found out we were having a little girl, he got a great new job, and we began to work on the nursery. I was 25 weeks pregnant when we decided to plan a "baby moon". Randy was a huge Dallas Cowboys fan and he had not been to the new stadium yet. We decided to schedule it on the weekend of October 1st. We would have our 4D sonogram that morning and then head to Dallas where we would have a nice dinner, relax, and go to the game the next day.

Randy had been working in the field for nearly a week prior to our trip. They finally finished that Thurdsay so he wanted to let loose with some friends. I went shopping for maternity clothes with my mom that evening so Randy went to dinner with his buddies. I decided to stop by our firends house (where he was hanging out) to spend a little bit of time with him before heading home. being so close to my thrid trimester, I was very tired all the time so I was usually asleep when he made it home. He was unusually affectionate that night. He was always very loving towards me, but he hardly left my side while I was there. He held me, hugged me, rubbed my back and belly, kissed me, and told me he loved me countless time. Looking back, I am so glad that he was so loving. At around 11:45 PM on September 30, 2011 my precious, handsome, strong, hilarious, and loving husband kissed me goodnight and told me that he loved me for the last time.

I had not even made it when when i got the most horrific phone call any wife couls imaging. "You need to come back. Randy had an accident..." The words almost didn't seem real. Randy was a jokester and i was praying that he had put his friend up to playing a cruel annd very funny joke on me. Unfortunately, he was not. When i got back to the house I saw my husband laid out in the front yard. Paramedics and friends were working diligently to bring him back. They tried to stop me before I could reach him, but I somehow got past them, even at 27 weeks pregnant. I fell to my knees by his side. I talked to him as if he were actually listening to me. I told him that he needed to wake up. I told him that I needed him, that our daughter needed him. I took his lifeless hand. I kissed it and placed it on my belly, just hoping that the life inside me could spark life back into him. It was all in vain. He was gone. My parents had pulled up by that time and ran to them screaming," He's dead, daddy! Randy is dead!" I collapsed. Everything went into slow motion. I watched his friends walk in all separate directions, hands on their heads, crying, screaming all in disbelief that they had just witnessed the death of their best friend since grade school. The next time I looked back in his direction all I could see of him from under the white sheet was his tennis shoes. My husband was gone. I was a pregnant widow at 24 years old. This was not the life we had planned.

Instead of seeing our little girl and heading off to a fun, relaxing weekend in Dallas, I was planning a funeral. I was writing a eulogy. I was gather pictures for a slideshow. I was commemorating the all too short life of my husband, my world. It was a blur... It was a heartbreaking, world crushing, "how am I going to survive this" blur. The breeze that blows today is much like the one that blew on the day that I walked around the cemetery picking the perfect place for him to be laid to rest. The sky was clear and oh so blue. The temperature was perfect. The breeze was so refreshing and the approach of fall was apparent in all of my surroundings... Much like it is today. Football is on the television; just like it was the few Sundays before his accident.

It has been almost a year since I last heard Randy tell me that he loved me (except in old videos), a year since he touched my belly and talked to our baby girl, a year since he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in for that perfect last kiss. Our daughter just turned nine months old and she is her daddy's mini me. She acts like him, she looks like him, and she is the absolute most perfect reminder of the man that he was. Everything is different now. I sold our home, quit my job, and I am now back in school. I have had so much support from family and friends and they are the only reason that I am able to pursue my dream of finishing my education and becoming an English teacher and a writer. I try to prepare myself for triggers that my reignite my grief. They happen often, but I am usually able to catch them so the blow isn't so painful. But this time of year is going to be difficult. The smells, the cooler temperatures, football season, the holidays. They are all grim reminders of the pain and the loss that overtook this season last year. I honestly fear what the next few months will bring. I so long for this time last year when I shared in so much joy with the man that I loved the most.