His last words to us were, “I love you guys.”
I woke up on September 14, 2006, and as it sometimes happened, Andy, my husband wasn’t in bed. I went to the couch to wake him up, but he wasn’t there. My heart started an awful, heavy thudding.
I went upstairs to his den, where I found the door closed. I called his name and tried to open the door, but it was blocked……
and I shoved my way into a nightmare.
Andy, my hilarious, hard-working, 36-year-old husband, was lying face down on the floor. His body was the obstacle. I screamed his name and shook him…his skin was cold.
I ran downstairs for the phone and couldn’t find it. I ran back upstairs, and it was beside him. I called 911…I said, “I think my husband is dead!” The operator asked if I could do CPR, but I couldn’t turn him over.
I ran downstairs to unlock the front door and heard Mason, our just-turned 3-year-old, call for me.
I called mom and dad. A kind neighbor came over, and I put baby Mason in his care.
Firetrucks, first responders, Chaplains and Andy’s cousin was the first family to arrive. I sat on the floor in the corner of the kitchen sobbing.