My husband did not wake up on November 16, 2004. Broward Liston was only 47 years old, the adored father of a 10-year-old daughter and 5-year-old twins, my best friend and soul mate. As soon as I shook his shoulder for the second time, I knew in that instant that all five of us had crossed over to a new world. Brad, a brilliant and fascinating man, was suddenly and irrevocably gone, out of reach, frozen in time.
For me and the kids, our world was no longer what it had been. Our future was no longer what it would have become. Happiness, ratherthan coming easily, now took work. The innocence of three bright kids was lost. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that today’s kids are so desensitized to violence by the entertainment media that they don’t fully understand the finality of death, because they do.