10:59 pm, May 20th
It was not a normal night.
Gabriel’s birthday was the next day and the house was buzzing with the
hustle and bustle that comes on the eve of a boy turning seven. I filled goody bags for Gabriel’s class
party, while Chris jokingly told me to save the Laffy Taffy for him. It was a warm spring day, but not too warm,
so we threw the football around in the front yard, then snuck off to admire the
gifts we’d gotten Gabriel for his big day.
Tomorrow, the 21st, I was planning to knock off work early so
we could take the kids to the park and Chris could rollerblade with Gabriel and
his new birthday skates. We’d go for hot
fudge sundaes. A low key seventh
birthday filled with family time.
The night progressed and Chris spent a couple of hours on
the phone with his best friend, watching hockey together, while I worked in the
same room. The Rangers and Lightning
were in a grueling game three and while regulation wound down, Chris and Mike
said their goodbyes. By this time, I was
ready for bed but Chris said “just stay up for overtime hon, it won’t last long”. I agreed because I loved how excited he got
watching hockey. The announcers went to
one last commercial break before overnight, and in that instant, Chris
collapsed in the floor.
When something like this happens, the mind plays weird
tricks. I thought he’d fainted, and was
worried that he’d hit his head on the coffee table. I tried a few times to wake him, but
confusion quickly turned to worry as I called 9-1-1.
The operator was calm and instructed me to free his
airway. Count his breaths. “He seems to be breathing fine”, I said, “but
I cannot get him to wake up. Please
hurry!” 1, 2, 3, 4…..his breathing seemed OK but he was wheezing and still
completely unconscious.
I left his side to answer the door as I saw the paramedics
arrive, then watched in horror as they rushed to Chris and immediately began
CPR. “Oh my God, he was just breathing! This cannot be happening to us, our baby
turns 7 tomorrow!” In retrospect, that was such a weird thing to say, but like
I said, the mind plays tricks when it cannot handle reality.
I helped the paramedics while timing their CPR, then became
really panicked when 1 minute became 10 minutes. Please God, please don’t let this really be
happening. Please let this be a
nightmare.
11:52 pm, May 20th
Chris is gone. Life
will never be the same. What am I going to tell the kids? Gabriel will wake up in the morning, excited
to be a seven year old, and I have to ruin his life.
Sophie has lost her soul mate. The one person in this world who not only
gets her sense of humor, but has the exact same one.
And I have lost my partner, my best friend and my husband of
11 years.
This is the story of us.
