I was sitting with my youngest daughter this morning, watching a movie on the Disney Channel about a family who is temporarily torn apart because of a wish the daughter makes in a moment of anger. The family is divided, the mother and father forget who the children are and the children begin to disappear and forget who they have become.

In the end, of course, it is Disney, after all, the family is reunited. The closing shot is of the family reunited. They all understand more than ever how important they are to each other—how good it feels to be together.

My family has been robbed of this happy ending. My husband, my daughters’ father, the man who knew what it was like to sit up at 2 a.m. with our youngest when she cried and cried through the night as an infant. The man who shared my fear when our oldest was rushed to the emergency room by ambulance when, on the day before her second birthday, she suffered a seizure. The man who stayed by my side during the cesarean births of our daughters and held my hand, then held our babies. Only Jeff knows what we talked about on the day of our wedding, the Christmas Eves we helped Santa prepare a bounty for our little ones, the late night talks about opening our own business and the sacrifices it would take. We were a team. We went through everything a couple could experience and came through it all stronger and more dedicated and sure that we had one of those marriages that would endure—one our children would admire and one our grandchildren would hear stories about.

Our marriage was good. We saw each other through births, deaths, illnesses, laughs and tears. There were days we each wanted to walk away, but we could not see our lives without the other. There were days we were so happy, we wondered if it was too good to be true. I truly believed that when Jeff was diagnosed with cancer that our love would make him well. We would get through the cancer, too. We were brought closer than ever to each other…we leaned on each other even more. Only Jeff and I know the nights we cried together when he was struggling to find answers. Only Jeff and I know the nights he woke soaked in sweat from the cancer and how every night before we went to bed I would lay out a towel and extra pajamas to change into at 3 a.m. Only Jeff and I know the looks of love and heartache we exchanged at the realization that he was losing the fight and we would have to say good-bye to each other, our daughters and our life together. Only Jeff and I know what I whispered to him as I laid down on the floor by his bed the night he died.

I so desperately want to know what it would have been like to take family portraits over the years and see the change in our children, and the gray appear in our hair, and the lines of love and life show on our faces. I took so much for granted—I assumed so much. I was painfully wrong. We were robbed of together watching our children grow-up. Robbed of watching him teach our girls to ride their bikes, seeing them play soccer and basketball, hearing them sings their sweet songs. What would he say to the boys who asked them out? What would he think on the day they graduate from high school? How proud he would be to walk them down the aisle on their wedding day. How much he would spoil his grandchildren.

Jeff’s life and our life together were all taken from him. Someone made a mistake, had a bad day, and didn’t see the importance in doing their job and getting it right. Now it’s all gone---changed forever. A constant roller coaster of what ifs.

It’s Valentine’s Day today. Jeff always brought his three girls beautiful flowers. Huge bouquets of roses. It’s been two years without those roses. I am still trying to understand how and why this loss happened to my girls, to us, to our family. We have many blessings, but we miss him. I miss the history we shared, I miss his wit, I miss his friendship, and I miss the pride I felt when I listened to the investment seminars he gave. I miss being his business partner. I miss him being the daddy he was so good at being for our daughters.

I am so sad that we don’t get the happy ending and the 50th wedding anniversary. I will never have a 30 or 40 year anniversary. We were cut short of our 10 year anniversary. One mistake, one bad day and it all changed forever.