Thank you

I've shared over 150 stories and can no longer remember what I've shared. My thoughts consume on the daily, some days I have the right words, while others I can't formulate a sentence.

Today, I've had time to think and reflect on the last 21 months. I for sure thought it would get easier over time, it seems to get worse. My hope for a brighter future with John becomes dim with every passing day. The negative thoughts outweigh and consume any positive I've had.

There's a few things I think of often, and I'm not sure if I've ever shared them. I know I've expressed not remembering much after the guilty verdict. Maybe a handful of things/thoughts. I remember coming home and showering, putting comfy clothes on and going to his house. I remember sobbing on the couch until I passed out. I remember checking MCJ inmate record to get his booking information. Yet every time I checked, it wasn't posted.

Verdict was read around 12:45pm on February 28th, 2024. At 2pm, 4pm, 6pm, and 9pm, he wasn't listed under booking. That night I went down to the jail with a friend of his to put money on his books. I got home and checked the website again, and nothing. His name wasn't even listed. I went to bed that night hoping not to wake up.

The next morning, I got a text from a friend that confirmed my thought from the night before. John was in the hospital for a suspected overdose. That week is still a blur.

Two months later when John was able to finally use the phone, we talked about that week and what happened. He didn't tell me much and I didn't pry. We talked nightly, each night I'd ask him questions about his hospital stay. I asked him why he refused medical treatment, his answer, broke me.

He was alert and oriented when he went to the emergency room but refused medical while there. Twenty-four hours later he was in ICU on a vent, the family never notified.

Back then I tried telling him the positives of this horrific situation, he didn't want to hear it. I asked him if he remembered what happened and he said, "no but the guy in the cell with me told me when I came back what happened".

John was blue, not breathing, to this day we still have no clue how long he was like that. All we know is a deputy found him, performed CPR and once that didn't work he called his TOD. Then God sent an angel (older nurse) over to the deputy. She had Narcan, and according to the other inmate she said, "uh huh we aren't giving up on him yet". While John wishes they would have, I'm obviously glad she didn't. I forget how much Narcan it took to bring him back, but they shipped him to the hospital once they got a pulse.

He refused medical treatment while there, his body blew up, and his organs were failing. Twenty-four hours later he was on a vent.

He has little recollection of being on the vent, but did remember the doctor and nurse coming in to check his vitals. The doctor encouraging him to take the medicine and telling him God's purpose is bigger than this. John decided to take the first dose of meds.

That night he was given a "sitter". He says a younger girl who shared the same birthday as him. He told me she would pray for him and felt bad for the situation he was in, but even she explained God is bigger than this. John continued to take his medicine.

After 8 days in the hospital John was sent back to the MCJ with no clothes, and a "turtle" vest. They wouldn't allow us visits or calls, but at least he was alive.

I prayed the first night God would protect him, and I've prayed every night since. I think of those nurses, and that doctor often. Wanting so desperately to reach out. I don't know if they'll ever see this, or if they'll ever know how grateful I am for them.

This gentle man is the one you saved, those words spoken will forever be cherished. Proverbs 19:17 "Whoever is kind to the poor lends to the Lord, and he will reward them".

Forty-five days until 2026. How did this year go so fast? It's hard to believe it's been two years since John's trial. That's two years, 730 days, 104 weekends without him.

While I appreciate the 3 visits a month, it doesn't come close to the time we once spent together. I miss him, every freaking day of the week.

I can't figure out what season hurts the most. The fall/winter months were spent in doors with movie nights and plenty of junk food. While the spring/summer were spent outside in the garage or nighttime bike rides. Every season there's a memory, a what-if. None of which hurt less.

I was 190lb when John took me for my first bike ride. I thought I was a big shot riding the back of Harley with my love. The sound of the engine revving, my hair blowing in the wind, and the soulful music he had on full blast made me forget the troubles of life for a little bit.

I wore black leggings with an off the shoulder, oversized shirt with lips on the front, and my black checkered vans. My man had a pair of jeans on, his black boots, and his Harley cut off.

I had to beg for that ride, I always thought it was because he didn't want to be seen with me and when I finally confronted him, he said "you're a single parent if something happens to you your kids won't have anyone". It took me 16 months to convince him to just take me around town. I'll never forget that ride.

I'm not sure many people will understand the void you have while missing someone who is physically here, but not. John always says, "you might have mourned me for a few months, but you would have eventually gotten over it, now you have to suffer forever".

I think about those words often and get emotional when I do. Exactly 21 months ago we almost lost him. That whole week is still a blur. I remember begging God "save him, I can't lose him".

When he came out of ICU, I knew God did that. I prayed for days over that man and the treatment team who worked on him. John refused the medical in the emergency room, and a day later was in ICU on a vent. He had a doctor come in with his nurse, both religious and encouraged him to "fight", that God wasn't done with him yet.

Once he was admitted he had to have a "sitter". John said she was late 20's early 30's and her birthday was the same as his. He said "she prayed with me, over me, and encouraged me to keep going". He couldn't remember her name but talked about her often. I knew, if John was bringing her up, she had to of made a difference in his life.

The nurse in the jail, the doctor and the medical team who spoke God into his life, the lady who sat with him and got to know him, I don't know who you are, or if you'll ever see this. I think of you often and pray for you daily. You saved someone who was lost but loved, who would have been missed deeply, but cherished. You have no clue how important those words were to me, and obviously him. Thank you doesn't seem enough....