The Final Horizon

I am writing this with a heart that is shattered into a million pieces. Many of you have been waiting for news, and while I can barely find the strength to speak, I want to share where we are. Today’s EEG showed some brain activity, but the medical team delivered the words no one is ever prepared to hear: it is “not enough to sustain life.”

We are now navigating the unimaginable. We are beginning the process of meeting the criteria for brain death and, following his deepest convictions, determining his eligibility for organ donation.

The Greatest Gift

He and I spoke about this often. We both passionately believed in the gift of life—the idea that even in our final moment, we could provide a miracle for another family. I am going to try my absolute hardest to honor his wishes. Even as I feel a grief deeper than any pain I have ever known, I find a small, flickering light in knowing that his heart—his beautiful, generous heart—might continue to beat in this world.

He was a man who gave everything to those he loved, and this final act of heroism is the most profound “I love you” he could give to humanity.

A Heartbreaking Goodbye

Tomorrow will be the hardest day of our lives. I have to take our little Graham to the hospital to say “see you in heaven” to his daddy. I don’t know how to walk through those doors, and I don’t know how to explain to a child that his hero is becoming an angel.

We are walking through a valley of absolute shadow. If you have any strength to spare, please send it to us. We need peace that surpasses understanding and grace to face the minutes ahead. Your prayers are the only thing holding the fragments of our lives together right now.

Thank you for loving him. Thank you for standing with us.