I held her in my arms, drying her off with a towel and praying that God would allow her to live. I was back home, at my parent’s farm in Ino, Wis. We had been at the family farm visiting for a few days. I was about to pack up my little family and make the six-hour trip back to Grand Forks, when my brother, Jeff, called. He needed me outside right away.
I dropped the phone, ran out the door and fell to my knees, gasping for air. I received the phone call no one ever wants to receive — the call saying that a loved one had been in a bad accident. The man I had dated for three years, my best friend, had been airlifted to the hospital, and he was not expected to live.