It was around 1 a.m. last Friday, and my wife nudged me awake. Her shoulders shook in the darkness. The tears ran freely down her face.
“She’s gone,” she said softly, her voice filled with depthless pain and loss and disbelief.
It was the news that we prayed would not come. After three weeks of a brave fight that saw her pingpong from the brink of death to what we cautiously hoped was her recovery, …
