We'd not long been home from a lights event at a local attraction, we'd put the babies to bed and had eaten dinner, I was sat next to my husband on the sofa when he dropped some of the ice cream he was eating down his jumper. I turned to look at him and realised he had all the classic signs of a stroke. The stroke was a big one, I called 999 and it took a while to connect to a call handler and the ambulance took forever to come. Life had already been unkind to him as he had terminal cancer and the tumours were growing again when this happened. He spent almost four weeks in a hospital bed (where the 'care' was shocking) and he came home just before Christmas to a hospital bed in the living room. He never recovered. I never heard his voice again.
I miss him so much but as I write this I can hear an owl outside, he always commented on the owls, and it makes me smile to hear it now.