07/16/2026
Life is short love hard and live life to the fullest!!
11 years ago today, I kissed my husband for the very last time. Of course, I didn’t know it would be our last goodbye.
I was flying to New York City with my blogging friend Jennifer for a blogging conference. After I checked my bags, I looked outside and saw Mike standing at the curb talking to an airport employee. I ran back out the doors, threw my arms around him, and gave him one more kiss before heading through security.
That simple moment became one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever been given.
That day, I landed in New York and talked with Mike and the kids several times. Before I went to bed that night, I called home one last time to tell them all goodnight.
The next morning, Jennifer and I wandered through Chinatown. Mike had been wanting oolong tea for quite some time, and living in our little North Carolina town, it wasn’t something we could easily find. I stumbled across a specialty tea shop and bought him an entire pound of it. I was so excited. I immediately called home because I couldn’t wait to tell him what I’d found.
My daughter answered the phone.
“Daddy’s still sleeping.”
I looked at my watch. It was around 10:30 that morning.
I laughed and said, “Go wake him up.”
I heard her knock on the bedroom door.
Nothing.
She knocked again.
Still nothing.
So they walked into the bedroom. Mike was always a heavy sleeper.
Our kids were just 5, 14, and 15 years old.
For a moment… there was only silence.
Then I heard my daughter quietly say, “Mommy… Daddy is blue and cold. I think he’s dead. Do I call 911?”
I collapsed.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t even find the words to speak.
We hung up so they could call 911, and I stood in the middle of New York City absolutely wailing. I kept hitting redial over and over, waiting for their phone to be free while they spoke with the dispatcher.
Jennifer somehow managed to get me off the streets of New York, back to the hotel to gather my things, and to the airport. I was in complete shock. I was having such a severe panic attack that I was making sounds I didn’t even know a person could make.
Eventually, one of the paramedics got on the phone with me.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am. We tried everything, but he’s gone. Is there someone who can come get your children so we can remove his body from the home?”
Everything after that feels like a blur.
Delta got me on the first flight they could. My friend Tina rushed to my house get my babies.
It was the kind of nightmare you keep waiting to wake up from.
But we never did.
Tomorrow somehow marks 11 years since Mike passed away. He was 33.
Some days it feels like it’s only been two weeks.
Other days it feels like ninety years.
He is still missed beyond words.
The hardest part is knowing my children still carry the trauma of that day. My son was 5 then and thankfully does not remember that day but my daughters were young teens at the time & they do. 💔
But if there’s one thing losing Mike taught me, it’s this:
Life is incredibly fragile.
Tomorrow is never promised.
So hug your people a little tighter. Tell them you love them every chance you get. Make the phone call. Take the picture. Spend the time together. Don’t save the good moments for “someday.”
Love the people God has placed in your life with everything you’ve got, and make sure they know it.
No matter what life throws at you, keep looking for your joy.
I love you all, my friends. ❤️
