My heart is breaking a million times over. Yesterday, we were breaking down camp and getting ready to head home when we got a message that hubby's best friend was in a "really bad accident". We didn't know if that meant two broken legs or  . . . well, what happened. By 10 pm last night, life support was shut off and hubby was there with him when he went.

We have miller lite in the fridge for his visits. Wedding pictures feature him goofing off in many ways. We ate our wedding dinner with each other, and him. He knows the severity of baby girl's shreiks. We used to sit in front of the tv and have our bonding time while hubby put big boy to bed. Last time it was cut short, we sent hubby away because "we were bonding".

I don't know what happened. He hit a telephone pole. That's all we know. No rubber marks, 6:30 a.m., going about 60 mph which is the standard for the road he was on. We will likely never know.