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      The untimely demise of my wife, Mrs Jane Louise Witmore, was not an event that I could have foreseen. Throughout the years of our marriage, I had loved Jane with my whole heart and soul. Each waking moment of the day, my first concern was for the well-being of my one true love.

     I had been born into a family of means, was reared in exclusive private schools, and had found success and favour in the profession of my choosing. I was a fortunate, content man.

     I first laid eyes upon the woman I was to marry during my schooling. The sight of that young girl was a moment in time I shall never forget. It was Jane that I asked to my first dance; it was Jane that I invited to my graduation. Jane, one year later, called upon me to accompany her at the completion of her senior year.

     At university, we spent many a romantic evening out on the town, and it was within those years of learning that intimacy bonded our relationship. We were happy and our bliss was eventually consecrated in formality.

     Jane was good to me. She and I brought two wonderful sons into this world. It was Jane that nurtured them; it was Jane that took them to school on their respective first days; it was Jane, not I, who spent a myriad of hours caring for the physical development of our two boys. I was happy; Jane was beautiful, proud, intelligent, and at peace with her situation. I loved her, and she returned that love without hesitation, without question.

     In the twenty-seventh year of our marriage, I found myself alone on my way home from our firm. The day had been exhausting and the weather had been bitterly cold. The winter had frozen the soil and the roads were treacherous. On one of the numerous curves along my route, an oncoming vehicle laden with early evening revellers exceeded the limitations of the road’s surface. Their car crossed over the median and careened into my lane. The resulting impact produced carnage that took the lives of several of the individuals involved. I suffered massive injuries and was upon the fringe of death.



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