A year ago today, on a Monday, I woke up at 6:15 — or more accurately, our cats Jonesy and Emmy woke me, requesting breakfast. I fed them and made cappuccinos for Anne and me in our London and Paris cups. Before heading out for work, we talked briefly about dinner plans. Kate was away at Camp Colman, so it was just the two of us. I told Anne I loved her as I walked out the door. It was an ordinary morning.
It was also the last conversation I would ever have with her.
At 3:30 that afternoon, as I was finishing a meeting, I received a call from a number labeled “Medical Services.” It was Harborview telling me Anne had been in a serious accident and had severe head trauma. She was in the emergency room, and they were trying to stabilize her and understand the full extent of her injuries.
I left work immediately for Harborview and didn’t return home until the following evening. By then, I understood just how grave her condition was — and that the Anne I knew, that we all knew, was likely gone.
Today, on the anniversary of the accident, the memories of those ten days have come back into view, though I’m trying not to dwell on them too much. I’ve had a year to learn how to live with this, yet there are still days when the tears have to flow. I’ll have more to say on August 14, the anniversary of Anne’s passing. For now, I want to convey how much I appreciated the love and support that came so quickly in those first days and over the months that followed. It helped.
A collective hug to everyone who knew her, loved her, and misses her.
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