I Lost My Wife Decades Ago, but Yesterday She Protected Me in an Unbelievable Way

I Buried My Wife 20 Years Ago – Yesterday, She Literally Saved Me from a Stroke

After years of being a widower, Matthew is taken aback when his wife, Taylor, is the first person he sees while he is having a stroke. However, since Taylor was buried 20 years ago, that is illogical. Is Matthew experiencing hallucinations, or is there another factor at play?

It went by so quickly. The floor rushed toward me, my arm went numb, and my eyesight blurred when I was at the coffee shop putting sugar to my coffee.

“Repeat after me,” a female voice announced. “Say the sky is blue.”

My tongue felt thick in my mouth, and I had no idea what was going on. Then there was darkness.

She was there when I opened my eyes in the ambulance.

She.

I initially believed it to be a hallucination, a consequence of my brain malfunctioning due to the stress of a stroke. But sitting next to me, her hand on mine, she was genuine.

Her warm grin and bright eyes told me all I needed to know, even if her face seemed older than I remembered. I would never forget the look on her face. Never.

My wife, Taylor, was there.

Twenty years ago, I buried my wife.

I repeatedly whispered her name, like a learned chant that I couldn’t stop repeating, and she remained silent.

“Taylor,” I said, my voice breaking with shock. “That’s you. Is that you?

She gripped harder, but her face was still unreadable.

She remained with me when we arrived at the hospital. I saw her calmly address the physicians and then the paramedics. Like someone who had done this before, she moved with a quiet confidence.

She didn’t say anything for hours until the turmoil subsided and I slept in a sterile hospital room with her by my side.

“Are you really my husband?” she said in a quiet but doubtful tone.

The question made me gasp for breath. I gazed at her, a whirlwind of hope and confusion swirling inside my head.

“Is it really you, Taylor? Are you really still alive? I’m your husband, of course. My name is Matthew, sweetheart. “Your Matthew.”

She frowned as she hesitated.

She said, “I’m alive,” very carefully. However, I’m not positive that I’m your Taylor. I get flashes. Fragments of memories. I’m not sure, but for a split second, you seemed like my spouse.”

Her remarks were like a kick to the gut. Flashes? Recollections? How had she fared?

I told her everything.

I filled her in on what I knew and didn’t know about the accident. I informed her about the empty casket I had to bury since, according to the officials, Taylor’s body had probably been carried into the forest by untamed animals.

When the official answered, “I don’t know what else to tell you, sir,” However, no one is present. Blood and automobile wreckage are present, but the body? To be honest, there might have been wild creatures involved. Since it has happened in the region before, they might have stolen her body. The smell of blood is what makes it happen.

I had questioned, “What now?”

“We’ll continue to search. However, I recommend closure.

I shared with her the years I had been grieving for her.

She started crying uncontrollably as I was speaking because tears were welling up in her eyes. Gasping, she started to explain.

“I got into a collision. Yes, I do recall that. I know there was a man, but that’s about all I recall. I was in the car, he said. I was wearing a jacket with my name on it, so I knew my name was Taylor even though I couldn’t remember who I was. Remember that? It was dark.

She hesitated.

“Alister informed me that I was his wife and that I was en route to him at the time of my mishap. “My family is gone,” he said. All I had left was him.

As she described the life she had been compelled to lead, her sobbing evolved into agonized sobs.

“Although I didn’t first question it, he separated me. Even though it seemed… strange and alien, he showed me love and attention. His face and touch were still warm,” she remarked.

“We had a hut tucked away in the forest. He filled me in on all these lies and myths about our shared life. He showed me phony pictures of us. I had nothing else, so I trusted him. No identity, no memories. I only knew him. And to be honest, I really enjoyed being alone.

As she talked about her 20 years of survival, my heart ached. She took care of the man, cleaned and cooked, and took care of their animals.

She remarked, “But something had always felt off,”

She went on, “I had instincts I couldn’t explain,”

“I somehow knew what to do when individuals, sick neighbors, or damaged animals came to me for assistance. He claimed that I had always been like way and that it was a gift from my grandma. I never felt like myself, though. I had no idea what’myself’ meant. However, I have just begun to experience flashbacks to my pre-accident life. My sister and even a man who I believe to be my boss had you in them.

She stopped, her eyes welling up with tears.

“Everything changed a few days ago when I arrived in town. Somehow, I ended up to the coffee shop where you were. When I heard the commotion inside, I was standing outside in the garden seating area. Then I caught a glimpse of you through the glass. I rushed to you without thinking when you fell. I was aware of what was taking place. You were having a stroke, and I knew it. Then you continued phoning Taylor. Again and again. “The sky is blue” is what stroke sufferers are urged to say on television, so I asked you to repeat it.”

Her voice trailed off, and she gave me a fierce look that felt my chest constrict.

“After that, something made sense. Recollections. flashes. The day of our wedding. The way you gave me a smile. The way you laugh. Everything came flooding back. I couldn’t ignore it even though I didn’t comprehend it.

Feeling overcome, I reached for her hand.

“This dude, Taylor. Who is he? “Where is he now?”

She flinched.

“I’m not sure. I’m not sure whether I believe him when he says he’s leaving town. As soon as I saw you, I went. I was unable to return.

With the exception of the heart monitor’s constant beep, the hospital room became quiet.

My mother brought a photo album to the hospital later that night. Page after page of our life together, including our wedding, birthdays, vacations, and more, she laid in Taylor’s lap.

She seemed to recognize something in every picture.

“I remember this,” she said in a tremulous tone. “I recall that dress. I can still feel the sensation on my flesh. Matthew, I do recall this day.

She sobbed while holding the album close to her heart.

We made the decision to locate the man. We located him at a motel on the outskirts of town with the assistance of the police. He didn’t fight back when we approached him.

“I lost my girlfriend in an accident right there about three years before Taylor’s accident,” he added, his voice trembling. “Taylor was shattered, disoriented, and unaware of her name when I discovered her in that precise location. I believed that I could save her. Even though she wasn’t really mine, I could bring her back. All I wanted to do was give her life.

His sorrow was evident in the tears that filled his confession. I wanted to despise him. He had stolen twenty years of my wife’s life, and I wanted to yell at him. of our existence. However, I was unable to muster the anger I had anticipated as I gazed at the damaged man in front of me.

Taylor was also conflicted. Even though the man who had saved her had done something terrible, she still felt sorry for him. But just as her memories kept coming back, so did our common affection.

She ultimately made the decision to go.

Determined to start over and regain the years she had lost, she relocated to the city. Motivated by the knowledge and intuition that had remained with her throughout everything, she enrolled in medical school.

Her words, “I’m going to be a nurse, Matt,” “I’d want to assist. I’ll do it this way.”

We stayed apart for a while. She needed time to recover and find herself again. However, we gradually started to get back in touch.

It was tentative at first. A late-night stroll to get ice cream, a coffee here, a lunch there. We smiled at old memories that she could reassemble, told stories, and gradually restored the connection we believed had been broken.

I had married Taylor years ago, but she had changed. Her years of survival and resiliency had made her considerably stronger now. But she remained the same in many respects.

The same passion, the same ferocity, the same warmth.

It wasn’t simple. There were visible and invisible scars that would never completely go away. However, we created a fresh start together.

I discovered that love is more than the past. It’s about making the decision to keep going forward and create something new even when things don’t fit together exactly as they once did.

And I discovered the evidence for that in Taylor. In spite of everything, love had returned to us.

How would you have responded?