I don’t really believe it either. “I wish I was lying. I wish this was a bad dream, but it’s not. He . . . he . . .” My breaths come in small bursts as I struggle to inhale. This is too much. “I saw him h-h-hanging f-from the bathroom beam!” I scream and sob hysterically. “I’m not lying! I’m . . . I’m . . .”

The officer that sits beside me grips my shoulders and instructs me to inhale slowly. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. I repeat this process until I’m not on the verge of a panic attack.

Angie cries with me, letting out her own sounds of devastation. We clutch each other and mourn the loss of a man we love.

Twenty minutes later, just as Angie and I have settle together and calmed into quiet weeping, the paramedics appear on the staircase. A black bag lies on the gurney, holding the man I planned to grow old with, the father of my children, and all the hopes of the life I’d imagined. No more dinners. No more kisses. No more laughs can be shared between us. Because he decided he couldn’t. And I don’t even know why.

We have a beautiful home, stable jobs, smart and healthy kids. I’m so confused. I keep waiting for Todd to walk down the stairs and tell me it’s all going to be okay.

I stand, staring at the blackness that fills my view.

The emptiness drains the parts of me that were once so full. It takes over the hope I once had, making it black and ugly. They wheel him out as I crumple to the floor. Angie rushes over to me, enveloping me in her arms, and holds on.

“I’m so sorry, Pres.”

“I’m sorry, too.” I release her and know what I have to do now. “I have to go get the boys.”

“Oh, God,” she gasps, covering her mouth. “What do they know?”

“They know something’s wrong and it’s about their father. I have to go get them. They’re probably terrified.”

I manage to pull myself up as the last police officer lingers by the back door. He walks over as I squeeze my arms around my stomach. “Here’s my card, Mrs. Benson. If you need anything, please give me a call.”

I nod and close my eyes. I need for this to not be real, but he can’t do that. “Thanks.”

Angie’s hand rests on my back. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Please,” I say and she heads to the couch. I hear her moan break free as I walk the officer out.

“I can stay here if it’ll help,” he offers.

“I appreciate it. I don’t think anything is going to help.” I grip the card in my hand as a lifeline. “How do I tell them?” I ask this man who is a stranger. I need someone to tell me what to do.

“I wish I could tell you, Mrs. Benson. I don’t know that there is a right way.” He looses a sigh. “I’ve made too many notifications, and it’s never easy. Just be honest, and be there for them.”

“Thank you, Officer . . . ?” I realize I don’t know his name. This man comforted me for the last hour, and I don’t even know his name.

“Walker. Michael Walker.”

“Thank you for your help, Officer Walker. I don’t know how I’m going to do this alone. I’ve never been alone.” As the word leaves my lips, it hits me. Alone. Yeah, I have the boys, but my husband is gone.

“We’ll tell them together,” Angie says from behind me.

The officer nods, gets in his car, and we head over to do the last thing in the world I want to do—tell the boys. I look at Angie, whose face is covered in black streaks. She loved her brother so much. He had so much love and support around him. So many people to talk to, and he chose this? I can’t get my head around this.

I wipe my face and then knock. Mrs. Malgieri opens the door. Her hands fly to her mouth as my eyes close again. “Oh, Presley.” She pulls me into her arms. “Please tell me he’s okay. We saw the lights and the boys said something was wrong.”

I remove myself from her embrace. If it’s hard to tell her, it’s going to be pure agony with the boys. My face falls as my eyes close. “Are the boys here? I-I . . .”

“I’m so very sorry, honey.”

This is going to be the first in a long line of apologies. “Thank you. I need to talk to them.”

“They’re watching television, but they’re very quiet and scared.” Her eyes fill with sorrow.

I hold my breath, trying to stay strong. “Thank you for keeping them.”

Logan must hear my voice, because next thing I know, he’s barreling toward me crying. “Mom, I saw the lights. Where’s Dad?”

I crouch down, grip his hand in mine, and see Cayden standing behind him, unmoving. “Cay, come here.” I extend my other hand.

He shakes his head as I battle all emotions I’m feeling. I have to be strong for them. “Cayden,” Angie says from behind me, unable to stop her steady stream of tears. “Come here, buddy.”

He heads into his aunt’s arms. They’ve always had a special bond, and I’m grateful she’s here for him. I look at both of them and decide right then that I can’t tell them everything. I don’t want to lie to them, but I have to protect their hearts. If they know this was his choice, I don’t know that they’ll ever recover. How could he not think they were worth living for? I won’t let them feel that.

“Boys.” I struggle to speak. “Your Daddy . . . his heart . . . it . . . it stopped . . . the paramedics, they tried so hard but they couldn’t . . .” I inhale slowly and deeply, trying to compose myself before I completely shatter their world. “I’m so sorry, babies. I’m so sorry, but Daddy went to Heaven.”

Logan’s arms drape around my neck as he sobs. I rub his back, trying to soothe him. I can no longer hold inside the agony I feel. I sob. We hold each other and he soaks my shirt. I look over at Cayden, who’s being comforted by Angie. He cries and shakes his head back and forth.

Logan pushes back, balling his fists. “He was upstairs! He has to be okay, Mom!” He shakes his head. “He . . . he’s . . . he’s strong, and the doctors need to try harder!”

“They tried, buddy.” I attempt to pull him into my arms, but he moves so I can’t grab him. “Th-they tried . . . so many times.” I fall apart as I watch my son grapple with the truth.

“Try again!” Logan screams as he rushes out the door and across the yard. “He needs help!”