I’ve written about this man and his wife twice. Will was a talented musician diagnosed with cancer last year.
His wife posted this Friday night:
This is the update I have prayed that I would never have to send. At around 8pm tonight, Will passed away.
I don’t really know what to say. My heart feels like it has been ripped out and my world has stopped. Will is my love and will always be my love. I can’t imagine life without him. The beauty and color of life seems to have gone with him.
William, thank you for loving me. Thank you for sharing the last 12 years of life with me. Thank you for marrying me and being my husband. You made my life better; you made me better. I don’t know how I will continue breathing without you, but I’m thankful for the love we have that is more beautiful than either of us deserves.
I didn’t know Will very well; we attended the same church and had spoken a couple of times. But I felt connected to him and his wife for some reason, and I wasn’t alone. Here are a few comments left by readers.
I never personally met Will but I feel like I’ve known him for 8 or 9 years.
I don’t know Will personally but I’ve been praying for you both and will continue to do so.
I have never met you but our friends connect us. I love you, and I am weeping for you and with you. You are so blessed to have known such a love in this life.
The human condition. No one is immune from it, and I think that’s why people related to Angie’s honesty and rawness.
Sometimes I think about heaven and what it will be like. We imagine it to be perfect—no more sickness or sin, brokenness or loss. Then I worry, Heaven will be boring without conflict. There will be no movies. No pop songs, no great literature. After all, you can’t have literature without a villain.
But then I think about all the tears shed in the world, and the idea that heaven will be boring quickly vanishes. I’ll take heaven—with its absence of books, movies or pop songs—any day of the week over this life and its oceans of heartaches.
Be at peace, dear brother.