We were best friends.
We didn’t let little things bother us, because we didn't know how long we had together.
And I just wanted to give him the best life that I could for as long as he had on the earth.
Eric had severe hemophilia. And because of the blood products he had been given, contracted the HIV virus when he was about 14 years old. I was not afraid of the virus; I just wanted to marry him.
As the years went on, we were blessed with three amazing children through the miracles of fertility treatments, adoption, and foster care. It was just beautiful. And we were happy. About seven years into our marriage, I was cleaning up our home one night and I went down to turn off the computer. There was a document on the screen. Behind it, there was a bunch of pornographic images.
I was devastated with what I saw,
but I also was filled with love for my husband, because I thought maybe he was dealing with an addiction,
and I wanted him to know that I loved him and that I would stand by him and support him.
I wrote a letter to him and I left it on the keyboard
and went to bed. And the next morning I got up, and
the letter was gone, but we never talked about it.
I just felt like I wasn’t enough, and I didn’t feel like I could talk to anybody about it. I didn't want anyone to know what was going on in our marriage.
As the years went on, he got better at hiding his addiction.
And I got better at pretending that things were OK.
I discovered that he was having intimate relationships with women on dating apps. The next day, we sat out on the porch,
and he told me that he did not see our marriage continuing.
I was floored. I had not seen that coming. I thought for sure I would just be telling him again what I had found and asking him to get help.
And it was during this time that our youngest son noticed that his dad was starting to drive really weird. Our middle son, who was living with Eric at the time, started to tell me that he noticed his dad was having a hard time talking. It eventually was diagnosed that he had a disease called PML, or progressive multifocal leukoencephalopathy. Within about two weeks of the diagnosis, he completely lost his ability to talk.
He lost the use of the left side of his body.
And it was very difficult for him to maneuver around in his home and different things. And the kids were having to spend a lot of time there watching him and making sure he was OK.
So it became necessary for me to step in and help because they didn't know what else to do.
So I would have people say to me, you know: “How do you do it?
How do you go and, you know, and take care of your ex-husband when he has so much pain in your life.”
And, you know, at first it was very hard.
And there was a time that I was so angry at him that I actually prayed to Heavenly Father, and I said: “Why is he here?
You know, what good is he doing on this earth?
He’s leading our children away from the Church. He’s coming so much pain for me.” But one day I asked him,
“Help me to see Eric through Your eyes.”
And I believe that’s when the change happened for me;
I was able to see him as a beloved son of God. When you
do get to feel that love that He has, you cannot help but forgive. You cannot help but love that person. It truly is a miracle.
It was easier for me then to step in and to see him and be compassionate towards him and to feel that love and concern for him. Miracles also happened with our daughter, who he had pushed away. They were able to spend just sweet, precious hours together in the hospital and care centers,
sharing love for each other.
And our other two children who were able to heal their relationships with him as well.
The day that Eric passed away, he was surrounded by his family,
by his children, by myself, by dear friends.
Truly, it was a miracle,
as we were all able to be part of his life again.
You know, that power of the Atonement is what it is. It’s what changes us. It has this miraculous ability to open your eyes or to soften your heart
or to just help you to overcome any hard thing.
If we asked, we can really see each other as brothers and sisters and as people who are truly loved.
It was weeks and months of feeling as if no matter what I did, I didn't measure up.
I didn't want to have to wake up the next day and have people ask me: “What’s your plan?
What are you going to do with your life? I did this.
You should do that.” I didn’t want to have that experience anymore.
I thought to myself, OK, this is that.