Don’t let him be badly hurt! I prayed. But at the hospital, a doctor told me that Gary had a severe head injury and needed surgery.
After the surgery, I was allowed to see Gary. “I’m here!” I choked.
He squeezed my hand, and I filled with hope. But by morning, his condition worsened and doctors induced a coma to reduce the swelling in his brain.
I brought the boys to see him. “Daddy’s on a machine to help him breathe, so he can’t talk,” I said. “But you can talk to him.”
Hearing the boys plead, “Please get well!” I couldn’t contain my tears.
Six days after the accident, the doctor told me, “I’m sorry … Gary is brain-dead.”
As grief tore through me, the doctor asked if I’d considered organ donation. Gary and I had never discussed it, but I thought about the kind of man he’d been. Always ready to help, he’d volunteered at church and chopped firewood for neighbors during a snowstorm. I knew what he would want.
