At 3:31 am the doorbell rang.

I didn’t understand why all these people and not Grant were here at my door in the middle of the night. I’d texted Grant an hour ago when I learned that they found him. I wanted to let him know how much we loved him and missed him while we waited for the helicopter to pick him up. I knew he would eventually get the text. I wanted my words to be there waiting for him.

Who were these men? I recognized the first officer, he was the one who came when we made the call. They started, “This is officer 1 and officer 2. This is the medical examiner and this is the counselor from your church, that’s when I noticed the counselor from my church.

Why on earth would they wake up someone from my church at this hour! Why would they all come now instead of just dropping Grant at his truck? I’d fallen asleep, happy that they’d found him. I’d had 1 hour of sleep. Uh oh I thought, when this happens in the movies, it’s never good news.  Why wasn't Grant here?! They asked to come in.

My body was already going into shock. I’d seen this in the movies. They’d say, “Ma’am, have a seat,” right before the officer told her that her husband had been killed.  My mouth had already gone dry, like it was full of cotton. I could feel my eyes desperately begging him not to tell me what I knew he was about to tell me.

I could feel my body sitting down against my own instincts, urging the conversation onward with the information that would change my life forever.  Then he spoke: “We found Grant. He’d had an accident and didn’t survive.”  ‘Didn’t survive,’ swam through my brain… “Yeah?” barely came out of my mouth.

I just sat there, because I already knew. He looked at me. The police officer repeated, “So we’re clear, your husband had an accident and is now deceased.”  “Yeah, I know,” I barely said, quietly my eyes looking at the floor.

I remember seeing the tile, the different colors and variations in each one. The patterns of it paused and briefly distracted my attention as I followed the line of color. I had never noticed this color variation. I couldn’t process. I couldn’t listen. They, this was making it all more real.  I had no words to say. I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t know what to think. No emotion came, the switch had flipped and the connection was gone, just shock was left.

I had no plan, no rehearsed words, no practiced dialogue, no mechanism to cope, no neural pathway already there to tell me what I do now, how I respond, what I say, what I was supposed to feel now. I wasn’t thinking anyway, the racing thoughts short circuited. My soul was settling, like after an earthquake. The unsteady, unsung, undiscussed shivering of what was always solid before those words.

Then I thought… my boys don’t have a dad. How can that be?

Grant… how could you leave our boys?  They need you. 

Then… I thought who am I going to have sex with?

I can’t not have sex anymore.

What am I going to do without a dad for my boys and no more sex? That combination is unfathomable. Those were my first two thoughts as what I already knew was now confirmed in my physical reality. It was no longer just a nudge from my spirit or his. Now it’s reality. Strangers are sitting in my living room in the darkest hour of the night, giving me the darkest news of my life. My body began to shut down.

Can we ask you some questions they tried? I blankly said yes. They began to ask general questions. Things I knew the answers to. I could answer these questions without thought. His full name, birthday etc. After a few of these questions, I couldn’t sit there anymore. Everything inside of me was about to come out, even in my pants. I tried to hold it. I couldn’t. I asked to be excused for a moment. They said yes, of course.

I got up and ran to the bathroom. Everything I’d eaten, drank and thought came out of me into the toilet. I was cleaning myself out.  I couldn’t handle having all this inside of me. I had a bigger meal to chew on and it was more than I could handle. Something had to start the process of getting this all out. It was all just too much.

My body was finally empty but still convulsing, nothing more would come at that moment.  I didn’t know if it would later. I didn’t know how to go back into that room with 4 men I didn’t know. Strangers mostly, who had just ripped my life from me with the information they gave me. It was too much.

I cleaned myself up and stood up. I washed and walked back into my family room where they all remained. I sat down again and answered all their questions, not a tear, hardly an extra sound. My voice was calm and even. In the face of catastrophe, I sat and assessed. I looked at the counselor from my church. He had 4 little boys like us, close in age to ours. The look on his face must have been what I should have looked like. It’s what I felt inside. Maybe even what I looked like on the outside. I felt sorry for him, that he had to be here, that he was away from his 4 boys. He must be putting himself in my place. What a terrible thing to do. Don’t do that I thought. It hit close to home I’m sure.

We talked for about an hour. They didn’t have much information for me. They found him on the side of a mountain. I had thought he was at the top of a bluff with no cell reception and had run out of gas. The helicopter would land, he’d jump in, embarrassed, but willing to take the ride home. He’d call me and I’d be annoyed at my long night and make him watch the kids while I took a nap.

My mind was still back on the bluff. No, they said it was on the ground and I could walk to it. They brought up that there was a video device that was still in the possession of the police dept. They would let me know all of what they found soon, after it was catalogued and investigated. I was so confused. Grant couldn’t die. He was infallible like a superhero. He was my own personal super hero.  He would always come back with some crazy story of how he defied death today.

Not once had I ever worried about him when he told me these stories. Strange to me now, that that was my reality then. He did like to dramatize a bit, so I knew it wasn’t quiet as scary as his story told in the tones of his voice. He’d never even been hurt, not once. Never a serious injury in his life. He was careful though he always pushed the boundaries. He never crossed or broke them, just tested them to their safe max.

He lived, we lived a life of exhilaration, but not stupidity. How could this have happened? He knew EVERYTHING about flying, air, winds, clouds, altitude. He had been a commercial airline pilot for years. He couldn’t have died by accident. Were there bullet holes? Did someone shoot him out of the sky? Was he over land someone didn’t want him flying over so they shot him down?

That’d make more sense to me. All these questions swirling around in my head suddenly, all while my body, heart and mind were shutting down to normally functioning life. I could feel it. What was happening to me?  They asked if I needed someone to stay with me. No. I didn’t.

They all offered their wives to come over and sit with me. No, I don’t want an extra and unknown woman in my house while I felt this way. I don’t want any extra entertaining to do, a habitual response that would kick in and drain whatever energy or power might possibly be left in me. I couldn’t. It’s too sacred, too painful. I only want to be around the one person I trust with all my whole self. That is me. I need to be alone right now.