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On the day that Zach died, the coroner told me that I should retell the story of how Zach died as many times as I can, that it would help me. I’ve told as many people as I can think of, but figured I should write it here as well.

Zach came home from his hockey game on Wednesday night, and he was complaining that he didn’t feel well. He thought that he was having asthma.

He developed ‘asthma’ about six months ago, but only felt it after he played indoor roller hockey. I didn’t really think it was asthma, because I have had asthma my whole life. He didn’t have any wheezing or coughing, just a hard time catching his breath and he said his lungs were sore. Typically when he felt this way after hockey he just wanted to go to bed and would feel completely fine in the morning. When this first started happening I made him to go the doctor to get checked out. In retrospect, I think I should have gone with him because I think he may have played it down for the doctor.

So on Wednesday night when he came home. It was the usual, he didn’t feel well, and just wanted to go to bed. He was very agitated, and kept getting up to get drinks of water. He just couldn’t sleep. I kept asking him if we should go to the hospital and what I could do to help him, but he just wanted me to leave him alone. Typical guy, right? I think that early in the morning he went outside to breath the cool air, and try to get some fresh air to see if that would help.

And that is when he died.

A bicyclist rode by our house on her way home from work and saw him and called 911. I woke up to the sound of police knocking on my front door. It was still dark, and by the time I jumped out of bed and made it to the front door, they were standing in my front room with their flashlights on. It was 6:34. I was so confused, and still half asleep, but I figured that there had been a robbery or a fight or something outside of our condo complex. I could hear people and walkie talkies (zach always laughed at that word ‘walkie talkies’) outside. I remember the police asked me to sit down as they kept coming in and going back out. I kept asking them, “What is going on?”, but they just kept telling me that they didn’t know. I got up to get zach, but he wasn’t in the bed. The police officer asked me if I lived alone…”no, I live with my husband”.

They asked where my husband was ” I don’t know…he wasn’t feeling well last night, so he probably went to sleep in the guest bedroom or for a walk, he’s not answering his cell phone.”

Then they asked me what he was wearing when I last saw him. I told them that he was wearing pajama pants and a hoodie. I thought, ‘ Oh no, they picked him up wandering around in a daze or something.’ because he was extremely hypoglycemic.

All of those questions were asked and answered very fast, and still they wouldn’t tell me what was going on outside and I was starting to panic because I couldn’t find Zach. The Police kept going in and out, and then they came in and said: “I’m very sorry to tell you this, but we found your husband this morning, and he has passed away.”

Of course, at first I thought it must be some kind of mistake. My husband was alive, and strong, and healthy, and vibrant. I asked her, how? and where? and what happened? But nobody had any answers for me. My world was spinning, everything started moving in slow motion, and all the air was crushed out of my lungs simultaneously. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to describe the feeling I had when she told me that my husband was gone. Sorrow, despair, misery, and desolation come closest to describing it.

I reached for my phone, but she told me that I couldn’t call anyone, that there had to be an investigation first. I didn’t understand anything that was going on around me, I just felt absolute hopelessness.

It wasn’t until a couple of days later that the coroner called with the results from the autopsy. Zach had died from an occluded artery. Which is a hereditary condition that causes the lipids in the blood stream to build up on the walls of the artery. His artery was 90% occluded (blocked) and his death was instant. I think that the build-up on his artery had been building over time, and perhaps while he was playing hockey and his heart was pumping hard, maybe it sent a clot or more lipids that blocked it more. I don’t know.

I am still trying to learn more about the condition, but from what I understand it is one of those rare and random things that are only found on the autopsy table or if you go in and specifically request that they check you for it. EKG’s don’t find it, and sometimes treadmill tests will miss it as well. If I had been able to convince him to go to the hospital he would have needed immediate open heart surgery, and neither one of us would have known to tell the doctors that.

However, I take comfort in the fact that death was instant for Zach. He didn’t feel any pain, he didn’t sense death looming….and well, he died outside – which I think is totally him.

If there was ever one person that lived life…really LIVED every minute of it. It was him. He’s probably lived more in his short 32 years than many of us ever will in 50. I read a quote that said ‘perhaps those readiest for death, are those least willing to go’. I think that describes Zach, he was ALL about living. If I know him, he’s splitting his time between riding the endless wave, and the freshest deepest powder right now.

Talking about it does help, and I welcome any questions, comments, insight, or memories.