Even the man in the moon is crying

It's funny how things that seem important one day, can seem irrelevant the next. I have always loved college football. I have always loved the Clemson Tigers. Any Clemson fan, knows how the Tigers can drive you crazy, raise your blood pressure, give you a heart attack and fill your body with excitement all at the same time. This year, like many Clemson fans, I was so excited about the upcoming season. But now I sit here, with the game starting in less than 10 minutes and I could careless about football. Football seems so irrelevant to me right now. The first game they lost was the day Michael was buried. Any other time, I would have been so upset, so emotional, so frustrated with that football game. But instead, just hours before, I attended a funeral. A funeral where I was the guest of honor. A funeral that I thought I would possibly have to attend, just not for another 50 years.

Today was a good day at work. I have a feeling that work is going to be my saving grace. Which is ironic, because the whole reason I started working at Sonoco was so Michael and the boys could live in Hartsville. It was my idea, I pushed it and I wanted the easiest thing for the man I loved and his kids. So it's hard to think that just 6 short months ago, the only reason I moved and changed jobs was for him. And now he is gone. Every reason I am where I am, is because of Michael. But I know God has a plan for me...and there is a bigger reason to why I am there. And there is a reason for everything and I have to trust in God and keep my faith.

Despite having a good day at work, this afternoon has been hard. I drove down the road he wrecked on. It's not uncommon. I have stopped many times and stood in the spot where he died. I have picked up pieces of his truck and random things like bolts that came out of his toolbox. I keep all these small pieces of him trying to hang on to every last thing that surrounded him.  I stand there sometimes, in this field and think...there are 1000 ways he could have survived but reality is he didn't. I know it may be weird, but I have to visit this place. And I have to look at pictures of his truck and stare at the mangled mess that was left of it. I have to do this to remind myself this is real.

I have walked the tracks his tires left many times. I try to imagine what must have been going through those final moments. I know it all happened so fast he probably didn't have time to realize the severity of what was happening.

He didn't die alone as someone he knew happened to see the wreck take place. I am thankful he wasn't in pain when he died. I know he didn't know he was dying. His last words were, "get me outta here buddy." And he took a few deep breaths and the was it. In this spot. He died holding the hand of a guy he knew. And while it may seem crazy for me to revisit these spots, it just helps me cope with the reality that he is gone. It is like a double edged sword. I stand here and know this is where he took his last breath, but also this is the last place he was alive.

 I will never forget the pain I felt as I drove up to see his truck flipped and knowing he was inside. I will never forget the panic as someone came up to me and said, "there was nothing we could do for him." I will never forget that sinking feeling in my heart when I realized what just happened. I will never forget the feeling of not being able to breath. Hearing the EMS yell, "She's hyperventilating, we need oxygen." The shock of my body locking up and not being able to move my hands and not feeling my legs. All while strangers and by standers stood by and looked on. I was there, all alone, with no one I knew, discovering my husband had been in a fatal wreck. These memories will never leave my mind. It replays like a bad nightmare over and over.  So I visit this spot now, and feel the calmness that was not there that night. It's just a spot in a field, but it will forever be the last spot where Michael was last alive. The last spot he was alive and breathing. The spot where God called him home. And that is where the peace comes from. Despite all the chaos of that night, I find peace in knowing God saved my husband in so many ways from dying a slow, painful, fearful death. Yes, there are a 1000 ways he could have survived. But he didn't. And Only God knows why.