On Nov. 2, 2023, I lost my husband Andy in a Humvee accident during an Army Reserve training exercise in Virginia. He was a captain. He was four months shy of his 28th birthday. We had a 17-month-old daughter named Adalyn, we were in the middle of building a home, and we had just received pre-approval on a 200-acre farm, a purchase we had dreamed of for years. None of that mattered by 2:20 that afternoon, when I picked up the phone and heard his commanding officer say words, I asked him to text me, because my ears were ringing and the walls felt like they were caving in.
Three days later, I drove to Virginia Commonwealth University trauma center in Richmond with my family, to bring Andy home. A hearse from the funeral home in Edinburg met us there. Andy’s commanding officer was waiting in uniform, with the straight back and stoic features you would expect from an Army officer. He gave me the tightest hug of my life, and as we separated, his legs buckled and he sank to his knees…