I could think of a million reasons why you couldn’t die.
Our daughter wasn’t old enough to ride a bike. She needed you to teach her. You needed to see her go to Kindergarten and graduate from high school. You needed to scare any boy she brought home. You needed to walk her down the aisle when she got married.
You still had more to accomplish in your career. You wanted to write a book. I still hear about how much people miss your knowledge and expertise.
We had a cruise booked. It was going to stop in Aruba. We had so many other cruises we wanted to go on. Except you didn’t want to go on an Alaskan cruise, but I knew you would eventually give into me.
All the other places we were supposed to go to. You wanted to go to Texas and attend a high school football game because you loved Friday Night Lights. You wanted to go to San Diego and see all the Top Gun sights. And you wanted to go to Branson, Missouri. I still don’t understand why you wanted to go to Branson, Missouri so badly. Even if it’s the Nashville of the Ozarks. I didn’t want to go, but eventually I would have given in.
We were supposed to have another baby. Our daughter was supposed to be a big sister.
You needed to meet your best friend’s new son and all the other babies that have been born since you have passed. It still hurts my heart to think that they have all been born into a “post-Bryon” world.
Some of the reasons that I didn’t want you to die were self serving. You always took care of everything. I didn’t know how I was going to do it without you. I was pretty helpless before all this happened. I wanted things to go back to normal.
I had to be strong during this trauma. I found out I was much stronger than I ever knew. I wanted you to know how well I handled everything. I thought you would be proud of me.
But the major reason I didn’t want you to die was because I wasn’t done loving you.
We only got three anniversaries. We celebrated our first and third. Our second anniversary was nine days after our daughter was born and we forgot to celebrate it that year. I remember we were lying in bed and you said “Hey, it’s our anniversary today.” We never could have known that we would only have three anniversaries. Maybe we would have found a way to celebrate that anniversary if we knew we were only going to have a few.
I thought about all the stupid fights we had. I thought about all the times I got annoyed with you over stupid things. I thought about all the times I didn’t appreciate all that you did for me. You couldn’t die because I needed time to prove that I could be a better wife.
We were always so busy, caught up in our day to day lives. I didn’t take the time to show I loved you. We can’t get that time back.
I wasn’t ready to let you go. I wasn’t ready for you to die. I wanted a chance to do it better. I wasn’t done loving you.
You held on for five months in the ICU. You survived septic shock many times. Your organs shut down and you kept fighting. No one can say that you didn’t fight. You fought until the bitter end.
I knew you were fighting. After sitting by your side for five months, I know you fought harder than anyone else in your situation would have. Most people would have given up. You didn’t want to be done. You wanted to accomplish more in your career. You wanted to have more time with your friends. You wanted to raise your daughter.
And maybe you weren’t done loving me either.