I met Eric on a dating app in early when I was living in New York. He was handsome, talkative and interesting. I was falling for him β but there was something he needed to know. On my 30th birthday, my parents threw me a party at their house.
I frantically tried to do CPR on him, but he remained unconscious. No one knows how he got hurt. My shock and grief were unbearable. It was awful to relive it all when I told Eric. But if we were to have a future, it had to be based on total honesty. Eric was wonderful. The way he listened made me feel safe. Five months later, we moved in together.
When he proposed in Central Park in December , it felt like a fairytale. We prepared to marry in August At dinner with friends and family the night before our wedding, Eric made a speech about how much he loved me. Afterwards, I kissed him goodnight and went to my hotel room. Eric was staying with his brother.
The next morning, I was woken up by the telephone. I remember what came next in snapshots. Collapsing on the bed and struggling to breathe. Mom coming to the door and almost carrying me back to her house. A postmortem found that Eric had died of a heart attack at 33, because of a condition no one knew about. My shock and heartbreak were profound. As the years passed, I learned to manage my grief.
My unworn wedding dress still hung in my wardrobe, but I wore my ring on special occasions. It felt as if I was honouring Eric. But there was a twist. The poster said she had been with him on his last birthday.
