by Holle Abee

Created on: April 22, 2009   Last Updated: May 05, 2009

My life was good. I had a wonderful husband, Buddy, who had built my dream house for us. Our only child, our daughter Jean, had recently married and was living in another town. Buddy and I were just settling into it being just the two of us when the unthinkable happened just after I turned 39.

It was a Friday. Buddy and his brother owned a fertilizer plant, and during slack times, Buddy had been building a horse trailer for our favorite niece, Holly, so that she could bring her pony to our house from time to time. He usually got home a little after five, but that day he had almost completed his labor of love, so he stayed late at work to put the finishing touches on the trailer. He couldn't wait to surprise Holly. His plan was to take her to the plant the next day to unveil her unexpected gift.

Buddy got home about seven that night, and we had our usual Friday-night meal, grilled steaks and baked potatoes. It had become sort of a tradition with us. After dinner, we watched some TV, but by about nine o'clock, Buddy said he was unusually tired and wanted to go to bed. This was strange because he always stayed up late on Friday nights to watch Johnny Carson. I went to bed with him.

Hours later I woke up to find Buddy sitting on the edge of the bed, breathing funny. He said he was short of breath and that his chest felt heavy. I immediately called my sister, Billie, who was a registered nurse. She lived just down the street. Then I called our family physician, Dr. Flowers. This was back when doctors made house calls. I ran downstairs to unlock the door for Billie, and we both bolted back up the stairs.

We found Buddy lying on the bed, motionless. Billie instructed me to go back downstairs and wait for Dr. Flowers. I did as she asked, and as I waited helplessly, I began praying. I knew Buddy was having a heart attack, and I begged God not to take him. I needed him and did not think I could survive without him. I don't know how many prayers I uttered. It seemed like an eternity until the doctor arrived, but I'm sure it was only a few minutes. Finally, I saw headlights in the drive. I ushered Dr. Flowers in and hurried him up the stairs to find Billie performing CPR on my husband. I heard him gasp for breath, so I was sure he'd be okay, especially now that our doctor was here to help. Billie led me back downstairs as Dr. Flowers took over.

A short time later, Dr. Flowers appeared, ashen faced, shaking his head. I knew Buddy was dead. My whole life was gone. This was a

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