On August 12th of this year, I was on a work trip in Boston; after a day of traveling and navigating the city, I waited to hear from my late boyfriend, Chris. My phone rang, although the voice was not one I was expecting to hear. Earlier that day, my boyfriend had sent me out on a riding day with some of his buddies. Typically, I would get updated throughout the day as we both knew the dangers that came with riding. That day, they became my reality.
The man on the phone’s voice would crack as he tried to break the news to me; Chris had passed away that day after a collision with a vehicle. I still remember falling to my knees, tears flowing, but no words could leave my mouth besides the screams that seemed so silent compared to the ones in my head. Thoughts flooded my mind as I came to the realization that at six weeks pregnant (at that time), my daughter would never have the opportunity to meet her father. A hobby loved by her parents had stripped this opportunity away from her and us.
To this day, I still remember the emotions, the smells, and the details of my surroundings from that moment, as if I could close my eyes and fully transport myself back to that day.
To this day, that is indeed the saddest moment of my life.