If everything works out, you’ll never need to read this.
I’ll come home from the mountains, hug our children, and probably complain that somebody forgot to take out the trash.
We’ll grow old together, exactly as we promised.
But if something goes wrong, I need you to know that loving you was the greatest privilege of my life.
We built something extraordinary.
Not a big house.
Not a successful business.
Not a bank account.
We built a family.
Eight beautiful children, every one of them different, every one of them carrying a piece of us.
If I can’t come home, please don’t spend the rest of your life standing at the door waiting for me.
Live, Emily.
Laugh again.
Travel somewhere beautiful.
Let our daughters become the women they’re meant to be.
And if our boys are no longer beside you, keep their stories alive.
