June 2017
My dearest Mia,
If you’re reading this, it’s because I’ve failed you, but not from a lack of trying. Just know I did everything I could to get back to you and the kids.
I know I’ve told you before, but you’ve made me happier than I ever could have imagined. I never knew life could be this good, but you’ve made it amazing. My only hope is that I’ve given you a fraction of the love and happiness you’ve given me over the years.
If you waited to open this like I asked on the front of this envelope, some time has passed now and I know you’re doing better. You’re strong, stronger than I ever was, so I have no doubts you’ll be fine.
You know I’m not real good with the romantic stuff, but I want you to make me a promise. It’s the whole reason I wrote this other than to tell you I love you one more time. I don’t need to ask you to watch out for our kids and tell them about me, because I know you’ll do those things. I want you to promise me that this won’t be the end for you. When you’re ready, you’ll find a new happiness. Even if that’s with someone else, it’s okay.
You deserve everything in life, and I’m so sorry I won’t be the one to give it to you. I love you so much, and all I want for you is to be happy. Don’t be afraid of it and don’t let our memories hold you back from finding it.
Just because I’m not here doesn’t mean I’m gone for good. I’ll live on through you, Aubrey, and Michael. You three were my biggest accomplishments and there wasn’t a thing on this planet that I was prouder of. I’ll be watching you guys from afar.
Tell Michael to keep his elbow up when he bats.
Tell Aubrey she’s not allowed to date until she’s thirty.
You are my heart and soul,
Blake
I crumble the note into a ball and throw it in the trashcan next to my locker. It’s been eleven months since I almost died in that fire, and despite physical therapy and surgeries, I’m still not able to walk. I had a hard time accepting I wouldn’t be able to do all the things I normally did. Chasing after my wife and kids, jumping out of planes and fighting fires. I can’t do any of it anymore. But I quickly realized it’s a small price to pay compared to what I could have lost.
Mia was the last thing I saw before I passed out in the forest. The next time I opened my eyes, I was in a helicopter being airlifted to a hospital where part of my team was waiting on me. I was told a rescue team was able to locate me based off my tracking beacon. No one could get in by foot, so they lowered a guy from the helicopter, loaded me into the basket, and reeled me in. A few minutes later and it would have been too late.
Breathing in so much smoke caused me to pass out and damaged my respiratory system. The heat from the fire burned my airways causing them to swell, so they had to put in a trach. It was a really long six months, but when they pulled me off of it, everything was back to normal.
Well, almost everything was back to normal. I had a few broken bones, but the greatest injuries were done to my back. I broke it when I fell off the cliff and hurt my spinal cord. The doctors aren’t sure if this is permanent or temporary, but it’s been months and there have been no improvements to my mobility from the waist down.
I cheated death.
I’m alive.
I probably shouldn’t be, but I am and that is what’s important. I don’t care about the injuries because I’m still here. I get to hold my kids and kiss my wife. My prayers were answered and I’m forever thankful for that. Everything else seems minor in comparison.
“You ready to go, babe?” Mia asks, poking her head around the corner. My first response every time I see her is to smile. I can’t help it. There was a moment in time where I never thought my eyes would land on hers again. Seeing her now can only be described as a gift from God.
“Yeah, let’s go,” I tell her.
She grabs my backpack full of the things I’m keeping and hooks it on the back of my wheelchair. Grasping the wheels, I give myself a push and leave the locker room for the last time. It’s a bittersweet feeling to leave the one place that felt like a second home. These guys have become my brothers, my family.
“What time are the movers coming?” I ask her.
“They should be here at eight in the morning. The guy I talked to on the phone said he could have us packed up tomorrow, and head out the day after.” I nod as we get to the car. Now that I’ve hung up my parachute for good, we’re moving back to Tennessee to be close to family. With our current situation, it made the most sense.
“Are you okay with us moving?” she asks.
Holding onto the handle of Mia’s car, I slide myself into it and she puts my wheelchair in the trunk. Not having my normal mobility took some getting used to, but I’m adjusting and getting around a lot easier on my own. When she gets in the driver’s seat, I answer her. “There’s nothing for us here. The only reason we moved was because of my job. And, well, I can’t do that anymore.” I point to my legs.
She looks at me with understanding, never with pity. “I think it’ll be good for us to be close to family again. We’ll figure everything else out,” she says with a reassuring smile on her face. I grab her hand and kiss the top of it. Again, her strength amazes me.
New beginnings and second chances.
That’s what this next move symbolizes. This may not be where I saw myself in our future, but that’s life. Just like the fires I fought every day, it’s unpredictable. But there’s one variable that remains constant, and that’s Mia. She’s my light in the darkness, the air in my lungs, and my reason for living. With her by my side, even our biggest challenges seem doable.
My first friend.
My first kiss.
My only love.
My first and my last.