Our Why…

On December 20, 2023 at 3:30 p.m., a call was received from a Colorado state trooper. Initially, it was assumed to be a prank, perhaps a joke orchestrated by Lynn and a friend. However, it soon became clear that this was a grave situation; there had been an accident, and Lynn had been transported to a local hospital in Sterling, Colorado.

His driver's side steer tire had blown, precipitating a catastrophic event. As he approached an overpass, the tire failure caused him to veer into the guardrails, resulting in his truck rolling over. With full fuel tanks, one was likely punctured, igniting a fire.

He sustained third-degree burns over approximately 80% of his body, with only his chest and most of his face spared. Tragically, everything inside the truck was lost—his wallet, phone, and wedding ring.

The local hospital did not have a burn unit, so Lynn was heavily sedated, and life flighted to Swedish Medical Center in Denver, where they have a Level 1 burn unit.  The outlook when he arrived was not promising and the first 24 hours are the most critical.

He held on.  It appeared that he had some fight left in him.  Some days the nurses commented that he was helping them during dressing changes by lifting his leg.  There was hope.  Then the infection from the chemical (diesel fuel) burns seeped in and took hold.

Circumstances took a drastic turn for the worse on January 7th. The infection had escalated, and the medical team was preparing him for a bleach cleanse. Only a few moments were spent with him before they needed to begin. The doctor’s prognosis was grim, advising to prepare for an extended stay if necessary.

Back at the hotel a call came through around 2:45 a.m. The doctor asked if I would authorize a do-not-resuscitate order. The answer was no, insisting there needed to be more time to see him before making such a decision. Heading to the car only to discover that it was snowing in Denver, which delayed the departure as snow had to be cleared from the vehicle. The drive felt to take forever trying to get to Lynn.

Upon reaching his room, they had already been working on him for half an hour. I nodded to the medical team as I rushed in. The doctor called the time of death, and I collapsed onto Lynn’s chest, releasing the most anguished cry I have ever emitted. It was 3:31 a.m., on January 8, 2024.

Life changed in an instant—nothing felt right. This started a journey—of an unknown destination marked by a grief I could never have imagined and yet, here it was. The journey of learning how to rise out of the ashes, learning to live life while full of sadness, anger, fear and loneliness.