Trying to find the air

How will she go on? How will she get up in the morning? He was her everything, and she was his. How can she possibly exist in a world without him? They were always a pair, one never traveling far from the other. I cannot think of a single race or event where I saw him without her?

What is the worst part of the whole story? The cruelest point of it all? The fact that he was only 46? Horrifying. The idea that he was seemingly so healthy? Shocking. The simple way in which he gave so much to the Triathlon community with no fanfare? Selfless. The grimest detail for me is the understated that we all are aware of. His loving wife never got to say goodbye. She came home to the horror of it all. She had to pick him up off the floor and plead for him to answer her. Of course he never did. She will have to relive that moment of terror for the rest of her young life without him. He will not be here to comfort her. He didn't make it.

I am empty when I read his contact information posted on the website as the Club president. I am numb when I read past emails from him in my inbox over wetsuit correspondence. I am so utterly sad when I think of how little I ever told him what a wonderful job he did and what an amazing person he was. I am defeated to think of a world of Aquathlons without him standing at the finish, quietly encouraging people to keep going. Mostly, I am so lost when I think of what to say to her, his widow. There really are no words. How can any of us be as sorry as we want to express? How can we even pretend to be compassionate enough to try to understand her torture?

How will we ever move forward and be normal in our events and training without him? I cannot comprehend this yet. How will she ever move forward and be normal in her life and routine without him? I cannot bear the thought of this now or ever. Does time really heal all wounds? In this case, I dare say no. Time may numb the pain, but every little memory will tear at the seams of the wound and threaten to reopen it again. The very thought of how thoughtless and pointless this death was, how we all feel so ripped off as a result of a life cut short, there are no words.

I feel as if we are all holding our breaths, waiting to exhale and wanting to take another breath, but we are not really sure how? I liken it to swimming in the sea and suddenly losing direction. We are all swimming together, in unison, wanting the same thing, loving the workout, surging ahead. Suddenly, he is gone and we are not sure of the direction in which we should go? We lost our team captain who was leading the pack and I am starting to panic and sink. I want to just give up and forget the swim entirely. I am trying to find the air to breathe as I tread in one place, but it seems futile. The stroke is not working and the swim now seems silly.

This is how I feel, so far removed from him. How will she ever even get back into the water?