‘He’s a sick guy.’ The good news of the Gospel is that Christ did not come for the healthy, but the sick. Should we remain in a place of constant neediness for the Gospel, we can be assured that He will meet us there with grace one day at a time, until we meet in heavenly restoration and are made fully healthy and new, once and for all.”
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“My life took a dramatic turn – on Paradise Lane of all places. This road is the last road my husband would drive and the first place I would have to face a new life. A life I did not choose, one I did not want, one that brought unimaginable pain, sadness, and fear. More emotional, physical, and mental turmoil than one human should not have to bear.
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What happened at Paradise Lane? It is quite the story. It all started with a pregnant woman, an episode of a sappy TV show and a man dancing in a child’s birthday party hat. This is how my day started, one very unseasonably warm Minnesota day in November – the Saturday after Thanksgiving. One would never guess that by the end of the day I would find myself returning back to this same room where laughter and joy once filled the space, to now a room filled with immense anxiety, uncontrollable pacing, and pure and utter heartache.
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You see Andy was a man of great interest and hobby – and it drove me crazy. Ever since I met the man, he had this quirky trait that continued the entire 10 years we were married – from learning to play the harmonica, marathon running, ordering designer shoes online, beer making, origami, gardening, growing loofah’s, conquering the rubix cube – literally you name it he tried it. His current hobby was photography and paddle boarding, which he loved to do on our beautiful lake in the small town we lived. So that day in November, he decided to venture out on the lake one final time before winter set in.
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I was pregnant with our third child at the time, and my hormones had gotten the best of me that morning, as I sobbed watching the above-mentioned sappy TV show. He always loved to make me laugh and smile. He was the funniest man I had ever met. I’m pretty sure he married me to have a permanent audience to all of his jokes. It worked – I always laughed with, at, and about him. So of course, my last memory of him is dancing in a child’s party hat that my 6-year-old son had received from a recent birthday he attended. His dance was a success; I chuckled and rolled my eyes as he danced across the room, trying his best to make me smile before he left. In fact, this was the last memory I have of my dear Andy. I wouldn’t change it for the world. This is who he was and this was who we were – always laughing, always teasing, but most importantly, always sharing our love for one another.
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Hours began to pass since he left earlier that morning. We had plans with friends later that day with our children (9 and 6 years old at the time). So as time went by and still no Andy, I decided to call him. I picked up my phone and called Andy – no answer. At the time I wasn’t worried. A half an hour later I tried calling again. Still no answer. Not worried yet. Eventually, the ringing stopped and the calls started going directly to voicemail. It was very unlike him to not answer, and for his phone to now be dead. It was around 1:30 and I started to worry. I told myself at 2:00 if he was not home, I was going to drive over to the lake and see what was taking him so long. 2:00 came and went.
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2:45, anxiety started to go in overdrive. It was not like Andy to be gone for so long, to not answer his phone, especially when we had plans later in the day. 3:00 came. No Andy. I threw on one of Andy’s jackets and told my daughter to watch her brother. I tried my best to be as calm as possible for my children. They didn’t suspect anything was wrong. I tried to push my anxieties out of my head, but I was shaking and crying as I drove to the lake.
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I made a left turn onto Paradise Lane which was the road that lead to our local beach access. I pulled up and saw our car. The car we bought together earlier in the year to prepare for our new baby boy. Then it was as if my worst nightmare, the worst moment, had now become a reality. I pulled past the parking lot and my husband’s car and drove on the little gravel road that was adjacent to the lake. And I saw it. The paddleboard, far from shore… empty.
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‘This isn’t real, this isn’t real,’ kept repeating in my head, as I paced and tried to process what to do next. ‘Andy is going to be so angry at me if I call 9-1-1. He is probably on the shore somewhere taking pictures.’ Time felt still and in fast forward all in the same moment. I grabbed my phone and called 9-1-1. I started screaming his name, ‘ANDY, ANDY, ANDY,’ as I frantically looked on the shore line that was covered in trees, shrubs, and fallen leaves. I hear the sirens roaring, coming in my direction. It felt like the makings of a movie, except I was the lead character in a new horror show, which was my life.
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As I paced and waited for help to arrive on the scene, I began making phone calls. First to my neighbor, and asked her to get the kids. I don’t know exactly what I said but something to the effect of: ‘Andy is missing… and the kids, can you get the kids?’ She had her husband get my children and she fled to my aid. When I saw her, we hugged and cried. Later she told me all she could hear me repeating over and over is ‘I don’t want to live without him, I want to die, I want to die’ as I knelt in the grass opposite of the shore.
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