Seven years ago this date fell on a Sunday. It was our 41st Anniversary but we didn't do anything special. Our relationship was special every day. Dave and I went to church where we were eucharistic ministers. After church, we went to our local Publix for supplies. South Florida was getting ready for a hurricane and we saw several friends at the store. I remember we discussed driving up to Tampa to ride out the hurricane taking aim at the Naples/ Ft Myers area.
Instead of heading to Tampa, we went home with our supplies. Dave spent the afternoon boarding the windows to protect the house. Between putting up boards, there was football to watch and that night the White Sox won the second game of the World Series. We had a nice steak dinner since we didn't know when we would be able to cook after the hurricane. Little did I realize how prophetic that was.
That evening Dave had a phone call from his sister Pat and another from an old friend and co-worker. Nothing in the events of this day could possibly indicate how very awfull the next day would be.
The next day I woke to find Hurricane Wilma doing her best to destroy our house and Dave laying on the floor of our bedroom. We had no power but we did have phone service. Dave was unresponsive but the storm needed to pass on before I could call EMS. Finally I could call 911 and they came immediately. After it was determined that Dave needed to be transported, they had to figure which hospital could accept Dave. When the ambulance I called a friend and asked for a ride to the hospital. Dave was in the emergency room and still unresponsive. X-rays showed severe head trauma with massive bleeding in the brain. Since the operating room at the hospital was unusable (hurricane damage) Dave was transported to Lee Memorial Hospital in Ft Myers. After meeting with the neurosurgeon, with a discouraging prognosis, I decided not to have surgery attempted. Dave and I had discussed this part of our lives and I knew he wouldn't want this kind of life.
The plan was that I would come back the next day and make that hard decision. I never went back to the hospital. Late that night I got a call from the hospital that Dave had died. The day was over and it was time to mourn and move on.