Grief hits me like a punch to the side of the head. A knife to the heart. A tearing in the soul. I freeze, standing over my wounded wife. I will myself to move. To drop to my knees in front of her and take her in my arms. To comfort her in her last moments of life. Instead I'm stricken, staring at her as time stands still, insulating us in a bubble of terror.

I want to reach out to her, call her name. The seconds tick by in my head, each precious moment lost to the ...