Dear James,
It feels like I’ve tried to express this more times than I can count, yet the words always seem to escape me. I can’t believe it’s nearly been a year since I lost you. So much has happened, yet it feels like time has stood still in many ways. The memories of our last moments together, both as a family and just the two of us, remain fresh, as if they occurred just yesterday. I can still picture you in your favorite shirt and cozy sweatpants, watching me from the doorway of our bedroom while I stood by Lily’s room. I remember encouraging you, telling you what a fantastic job you were doing and assuring you that you would start to feel better. As I made my way down the stairs, I said “I love you,” believing that you would soon feel better and life would return to normal. I had no idea that our lives were about to change in such a profound way just a few days later.
April 3rd continues to haunt me. I think about that day often and find myself questioning everything, wondering if I could have done more. I recall how you asked for water the night before, and I promptly brought it to you. I even texted you to let you know it was waiting at the door, but when you didn’t reply, I assumed you had simply fallen asleep, as the doctor had said your tiredness was normal. Now, I realize how wrong I was.
I wish I had gone back up to check on you – maybe I would have sensed something was wrong and sought help sooner. It was only when I went to get Lily that I heard you struggling to breathe. Once I understood the gravity of the situation, I acted, but part of me regrets not having done something sooner. Walking into our room with the oxygen tank, the look on your face as I approached is etched in my memory. You were so disoriented, and I felt utterly helpless. As they carried you down the stairs, I remember mouthing “I love you” while holding Lily. I’m sorry I didn’t come to hug or kiss you; I genuinely believed you would be back home with us after receiving the care you needed. Had I known that was our last moment together, I would have acted so differently.
Darling, I know you would reassure me that there’s no need for apologies, but I feel compelled to say I’m sorry. I believed I had everything under control. I regret not telling you I was feeling unwell, wanting to shield you from worry, knowing how selfless you always were. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to hold your hand and ease your fear. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m sorry you had to face your final days alone, away from those who loved you most. I regret that we won’t be able to share in Elsie and Lily’s growth together. I wish we could have traveled to all those places we dreamed about. I’m heartbroken that you didn’t finish those plans for our home—the place we envisioned together. Above all, I’m sorry I never answered your last question: “What if I don’t make it?” A year later, I can finally answer that: Elsie, Lily, and I will miss you more than words can express, but we will persevere. You believed in my strength and resilience, and I will carry your story forward, ensuring your memory—and that of all COVID victims—lives on. I will advocate for awareness about the impact of COVID on young children like Elsie and Lily. I will establish a support group for young widows and widowers affected by COVID, and I will ensure that Elsie and Lily know what an incredible father you were, how much you loved them, and how fortunate they are to have had you in their lives. Your legacy will endure, and you will never be forgotten.
I often think about our last FaceTime call nearly a year ago, which feels poignant since it was on the anniversary of when you proposed. You were heavily sedated, yet I know you could hear my words. I reminisced about that perfect day and reassured you that I would choose you all over again. Even now, despite the pain of losing you, I would make the same choice, knowing the love we shared. When you passed, I hope you understood the depth of my love for you and that I was honored to be your partner in life. I will always wish for more time together, but I cherish every moment we had. Our dreams will still come to fruition because I know you are with me as I navigate life, and I plan to fulfill our hopes for Elsie and Lily in your honor.
I think of you and miss you every day. Thank you for being a part of my life, for your unwavering support, for all the laughter and joy we shared, and for the incredible memories we created. Thank you for the love that brought Elsie and Lily into this world. Most importantly, thank you for loving me so deeply.
You always reminded me that “Tomorrow isn’t promised.” I will honor your spirit by cherishing every moment as if it were my last.
I love you, David. Always and forever.