I did not realize it at the time, but when I kissed my wife Inga good-bye that morning in 2006, I would never see her alive again. She was on the way to compete with other Bridge players. I had just parked my car in the church’s parking lot and was walking to the parsonage. She was already in her car getting ready to leave.

I could have just waved to her. We had been married 17 years and didn’t need physical contact to communicate our feelings. Sometimes I believed our body language said it. Instead of waving from the end of the parking lot, I decided to walk over to her car and give her a kiss. When I was close enough, she rolled down the window. I put my head in close to hers and gave her a kiss with feeling. I didn’t consider for a minute that I was giving her a final good-bye kiss.

Later that morning, I received a phone call from another player informing me that Inga had collapsed. The friend did not know how serious it was, but thought she should at least let me know. Then she said, “I am so sorry.” This puzzled me.

I found out Inga had been taken to a nearby hospital, so I immediately got into my car and drove to it. I wasn’t really sure what to expect, but none of the possiblities were good.  She had complained of a headache that morning and I urged her to seek medical help. She refused because she had been dealing with several physical issues with none of them turning out well. She was exhausted from all the “help” the medical profession had given.

When I walked into the Hospital’s Emergency Room and told the receptionist who I was, she said the doctor wanted to talk to me. I was ushered into a small waiting room where I mulled over what the doc might want to tell me. I feared a brain tumor, but what the doctor finally told me was Inga died from a burst brain aneurysm. The coroner told me she probably died within 30 seconds of the rupture.  

The grief from her sudden loss was mind-numbing bringing on wave after wave of difficult emotions.  I have almost no memories of the early days or the funeral.

One thing the experience reinforced in me is how important it is to show and tell people how you feel because you never know how much time you will have together.

Several years ago, singer songwriter James Taylor had a song with these lyrics “Shower the people you love with love. Show them the way that you feel.” I have made these words my goal for all my important relationships like Cindy whom I married several years after Inga’s death. We never part without saying “Love you” or “I love you.” She now has her sons telling her the same at the end of each phone call.

I am so glad I didn’t just wave good-bye to my wife that day. I walked over to her, gave her a kiss and told her I loved her.