The Fragility of It All - by Katie Hawkins-Gaar

The last time I locked eyes with my husband was on February 4, 2017—three years ago, today. Jamie had reached the ninth mile of a 13.1-mile race. I shouted and cheered from the sidelines; he returned a tired smile and wave as he continued running. The next time I saw him, somewhere past mile 12, he was dead. I didn’t know then that Jamie had died. All I knew was that he was lying on the pavement, unresponsive, surrounded by medical staff. I remember being unexpectedly calm during the ambulance ride to the hospital. I took measured breaths, dutifully replied to the driver’s attempts at small talk, and repeated silent prayers. I told myself, If I stay calm, that means the worst won’t happen. But the worst did happen. The official time of death, as called by the emergency room doctor, was 10:12 a.m. The official cause of death, something we didn’t learn until months later, was fibromuscular dysplasia of atrioventricular node arteries—a rare and, in Jamie’s case, undiagnosed cause of sudde

The last time I locked eyes with my husband was on February 4, 2017—three years ago, today. Jamie had reached the ninth mile of a 13.1-mile race. I shouted and cheered from the sidelines; he returned a tired smile and wave as he continued running. The next time I saw him, somewhere past mile 12, he was dead. I didn’t know then that Jamie had died. All I knew was that he was lying on the pavement, unresponsive, surrounded by medical staff. I remember being unexpectedly calm during the ambulance ride to the hospital. I took measured breaths, dutifully replied to the driver’s attempts at small ta