08/10/2026
24 years goes by in a blink, yet the details of the day are so vivid like it just happened. Beautiful, sunny day. I was at Walmart with the oldest. She was almost 2 y/o. I'm in the check out line. My receipt said 12:10 pm. I head home to find out about the accident which had happened within a minute or two of us checking out. He was gone before I got home but we didn't know it yet. We prayed, got in the car, headed to New Jersey and hoped. We found out he was gone while in the car, stuck in traffic, only half way there. The rest of that ride was excruciating, silent against my wishes, but respecting those I was with. It was a study of human behavior in the moments following unexpected and heartbreaking grief, while stuck in a car still hoping and praying someone made a mistake. They did not. When we saw the New Jersey State Trooper waiting at the underpass to es**rt us to the hospital, we knew. I'll share someday about the moments in between walking through the ER doors and going upstairs to see his wife and daughter. The halls were lined with his fellow officers and friends who came up to mourn with us. I was nervous smiling and talking with them which, I found out, was apparently how I always handle grief. But, finally, I went to the restroom to catch my breath. A single restroom where no one could see or hear and it was there that I could finally let out what was held in for that entire car ride and through the halls until that moment. I remember the tile walls and cold floor on a hot August day. It was oddly comforting to feel the coolness as I sat there processing what I just lost. I remember a distinct moment as I was praying and trying to absorb that he was gone. And I thought these words; "but would you really want to bring him back here, now that he's in glory with the Lord". I was immediately comforted and realized he has the better portion. That may sound odd to some, but it is the fact of our faith in Christ that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord, 2 Corinthians 5:8.
I rested in those words through to this very day. Yes, I miss him dearly. Yes, I think about who he would be today. And yes, I wonder how people would be had he not gone. How I would be if he was here?
We went on to the hotel and I remember looking out the window across to New York where the Twin Towers stood just a year before. The skyline was odd. Empty of a presence that stood resolute for so many years and how it would never be the same again and realizing that our lives were now void of a presence that stood tall for for us for so many years. It was another defining moment in this grief journey that has left an indelible mark on my life, but has also become a tool to help others facing their own grief journey. Over 24 years many tools have been collected in that grief toolbox and I am personally glad that God has given me the wisdom and strength to use that toolbox rather than leave it closed up, unused, collecting dust. Shared grief is far better than solitary mourning. I won't forget that restroom that became a prayer closet or that skyline that reminded me of how tragedy changes our view forever. 24 years passed by quickly, but also plays back in slow motion and I hope I never forget all of the in between until I can see Ronnie again, in glory.
