Freedom-Fighters Forum

By Henry L. Isaksen, Ph.D.

We don’t really know what happened. She was alone in the car on that fateful day in May when it went out of control and rolled over several times. When it came to rest by the side of the narrow highway just a couple of miles from home, the broken body of my wife, my beloved Amy, lay near the wreck.

Richie and I were busy in the yard — transplanting a bush here and a tree there as she requested, fertilizing and trimming the lawn, preparing the flower beds where she would plant petunias, etc. We hardly noticed the ambulance as it sped past to the scene of the accident. Nor did we pay much attention as it returned, siren screeching and lights flashing, a few minutes later. After all, this sort of thing happened often on our busy highway. However, this time it was different. This time the ambulance was followed by a policeman, who happened to be a friend. He stopped, stepped out of his patrol car and addressed me with obvious concern. “Henry, there has been a serious accident involving your wife. Please come with me to the hospital.” His strained silence as he drove me to the hospital was foreboding.

The door of the emergency room was being guarded by a state trooper who asked me to wait. “The doctor will be out shortly,” he said, “to let you know about her condition.” The receptionist could only assure me that the doctor was doing all he could to help her.

Soon the door opened and the doctor, also a friend and colleague, stepped out with a look on his face that told me she was gone. “There was nothing anyone could do, Henry. Apparently she died instantly. She didn’t suffer.”

Words are simply inadequate to describe the feeling that flooded through me at that moment nor the enormous void that dominated my life during the days and nights and weeks that followed. Amy — my beloved Amy — gone!

Could it really be true? Was that lifeless body lying on the stretcher in that small, brightly lighted emergency room really all that remained of the vibrant, beautiful lady who had been by my side for the past thirty-two years? Who had been such a delightful companion and faithful friend? Who had borne my children and nourished them with such tender love and concern? Who had won the love and respect of her children, grandchildren and a host of friends and neighbors whose lives she had touched so richly and tenderly over the years wherever we had lived? Who had followed and supported me through all the trials and demands of my years of schooling, my many moves from place to place?

Yes, it was true. My eternal companion, my best friend, my beloved wife, my Amy — gone!

My eternal companion? Why yes, of course! We had been married in the temple by an Apostle of the Lord who had the power and authority to seal our marriage for “time and all eternity.” Had I forgotten that? Of course not. This is not the end! Life is eternal! We will be together again — forever!

But it is the end for now, hence — intense loneliness; anguish over memories of wasted opportunities, harsh words and thoughtless acts; great joy in memories of happy occasions and tender moments; great comfort in the presence of loved ones who gathered from far and near, in expressions of sympathy, in the assurance of a glorious reunion in the eternal worlds, in the glowing tributes from those who spoke at the funeral, etc.

The message to husbands everywhere? Simply this: Don’t waste a minute! Cherish every moment of happiness, every precious opportunity to enjoy the companionship and love of your wife while you are together in mortality. Build happy memories by living richly with her. Cultivate the love you have for each other, for your children, relatives and friends. Do the things you must do to insure your eternal happiness together and carefully avoid doing anything that might detract in the least from or diminish the reward that awaits you if you are faithful to your covenants.

Such, then, is my message to husbands everywhere. I pray that you will heed it — for the love of your Amy, or whatever her name may be.