July 12, 2009 was somewhat a blur once I got home and found Corey. I remember calling 911, running to the neighbors to get help, calling my mom in hysterics and hitting Corey, trying to get him to wake up. I do remember falling to the floor with the EMS said that he was gone and there was no life. I was devastated.
My mom and dad live two hours away; they called my brother, who lives 50 miles across town, to get to me. What would be about a 45 min to hour trip took him 20 mins. He, as well as my wonderful sister-in-law, were there to comfort me until my parents arrived. My best friend did everything she could to get to me as quickly as possible. I am forever grateful to them. My brother took charge, being the liason to work with the Sheriff’s department, the Medical Examiner and the funeral home.
There are a couple of things about that day that still haunt me. They way he looked when I found him. Corey was still in bed; covered up to his chin in the light cotton blanket. Propped up on his pillow like he always slept. His hands clasped together sitting on his chest. He always slept that way. His eyes closed, when I started to panic, I lifted up his closed eyelids. The image stuck in my mind; those beautiful brown eyes that I fell in love with, just distant; no life. I still see those in my mind. Every time I go to bed, that image is still there.
The other that haunts me; that once the Sheriff ushered me out of the room, I never went back in. I never went back in there told him goodbye and how much I loved him. I never got to kiss him one last time. All that I ever did that day was yell, scream and hit him. I never told him I loved him that day. I regret that. To this day, I regret it.
My faith was tested that day. When I first met Corey and we started to date exclusively, I drifted away from the Church. I was selfish. The only time we ever got to spend together was on the weekends. I wanted to spend every single moment of each weekend together. I made the conscience decision to not attend Mass, but it was for only selfish reasons. However, that day, I felt the need to want to talk to my parish Priest. I believe to this day that God put his arms around me and I know I felt His love for me.
Not knowing my Mother, once she had arrived, contacted my parish to see if we could get ahold of a priest. I wanted to sit with him and just pray. I was never asking for one to come out to give last rites or any other rite. Corey was not Catholic and he would have not wanted that. Once the ME’s office had taken my beloved out of my home, the associate Priest at my parish called my mom. Now I had not been in six years, and did not know that there were some new priests there. After an interrogation about Corey, and whether or not he was Catholic, were we married in the church, etc, I was made to feel that I was a horrible person and not worthy of Father Tom’s time. I had told him that all I wanted was to sit with him and just pray; but I was turned away and told that the “church was closed”. The Church Was closed….
….to be continued…..