A surprising announcement made by Johnny Gaudreau’s widow at his memorial service has shocked many people online.
Johnny Gaudreau, a 31-year-old ice hockey player for the Columbus Blue Jackets, passed away recently. His memorial service was held on Monday, September 9, where his widow, Meredith Gaudreau, gave a touching eulogy.
In her speech, Meredith revealed that she is pregnant. This news has added a new layer of emotion to the already heart-wrenching event.
During her eulogy, Meredith Gaudreau talked about how much she treasures the six months she had with her late husband, Johnny Gaudreau, and their time together as a family. She highlighted one special week that stood out, saying, “There’s specifically one week that I will cherish forever — it will be my favorite week of my life out of those six months.”
Meredith then shared some surprising news: “We’re actually a family of five. I’m in my ninth week of pregnancy with our third baby.” She explained that the pregnancy was a “total surprise” and added, “John was beaming and so excited. His reaction was just immediately kissing me and hugging me.”
Meredith and Johnny Gaudreau also have a daughter, Noa Harper Gaudreau, born on September 30, 2022, and a son, Johnny Edward Gaudreau, who was born on February 22, 2024.
Meredith said, “It doesn’t even sound possible, but I see it as the ultimate blessing. How lucky am I to be the mother of John’s three babies? Our last one is such a special blessing, even in these difficult times.” She also told her kids how loved they were and continue to be by their late dad.
Upon hearing about Meredith’s pregnancy, people online expressed their sadness and offered condolences. One Facebook user commented, “This is heartbreaking ,” while another added, “So very sad. Condolences to all concerned.”
A netizen added, “So so tragic.” Another person wrote, “What a complete tragedy . All because one guy couldn’t wait to get home to get drunk. Hope he never drives again,” referring to the unfortunate circumstances surrounding Johnny and Matthew’s deaths.
The tragic accident occurred on August 29, the night before Katie Gaudreau’s wedding. Johnny and Matthew Gaudreau were riding their bikes in Oldmans Township, New Jersey, when they were hit from behind by a suspected drunk driver. The driver, 43-year-old Sean M. Higgins, struck the brothers at 8 p.m., and both Johnny, who had played 10 seasons in the NHL, and Matthew were pronounced dead at the scene.
Sean M. Higgins faces serious charges following the tragic accident. He is charged with two counts of death by auto and reckless driving. He also faces additional charges for consuming alcohol in a motor vehicle and possessing an open container. Although his blood-alcohol level hasn’t been released yet, the criminal complaint notes that Sean failed a field sobriety test. He is currently being held in a Salem County jail.
When news of Johnny and Matthew’s passing became public, Johnny’s hockey team released a heartfelt statement on social media. They expressed their deep sadness over the tragedy and highlighted how much Johnny was loved and admired. The team praised Johnny’s talent and his impact on the team, reflecting on the profound loss felt by everyone who knew him.
The Columbus Blue Jackets shared a tribute to Johnny, saying, “Johnny played the game with great joy and a genuine love for hockey. From Boston College to the Calgary Flames, Team USA, and the Blue Jackets, he brought excitement to every team he played for. He thrilled fans in a way only Johnny Hockey could.”
The Columbus Blue Jackets also sent their heartfelt condolences to Johnny’s wife, parents, children, friends, and all his loved ones. They emphasized that even though Johnny’s life was tragically cut short, the remarkable impact he made on his community and his career would be remembered and cherished forever.
Amid the outpouring of support from coaches and sports stars like NBA superstar LeBron James, who sent prayers to Gaudreau’s family, Meredith also shared a touching wedding anniversary post on Instagram on September 4.
As the Gaudreau family navigates through their immense grief, we extend our deepest condolences and heartfelt prayers to them. Johnny and Matthew Gaudreau may no longer be with us, but their memory will forever remain in our hearts. Rest in peace.
I Opened My Garage to a Homeless Woman—You Won’t Believe What I Found When I Walked In Unannounced
When a rich man, who feels emotionally distant, gives shelter to Lexi, a homeless woman, he becomes intrigued by her strength. Their unexpected friendship starts to grow—until one day he walks into his garage without knocking and finds something shocking. Who is Lexi really, and what is she hiding?
I had everything money could buy: a big house, fancy cars, and more wealth than I could ever use in a lifetime. Yet, inside, I felt an emptiness I couldn’t fill.
I had never had a family since women always seemed to want me only for the money I got from my parents. At sixty-one, I often wished I had made different choices.
I tapped the steering wheel absentmindedly, trying to shake off the familiar weight on my chest. That’s when I spotted a messy woman bent over a trash can.
I slowed the car, unsure why I even bothered. People like her were everywhere, right? But there was something about the way she moved, her thin arms digging through the garbage with a grim determination that tugged at something inside me.
She looked fragile but fierce, like she was holding on to life by sheer willpower.
Before I knew it, I had pulled over. The engine hummed as I rolled down the window, watching her from the safety of my car.
She looked up, startled. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, I thought she might run. But she didn’t. Instead, she straightened up, brushing her hands on her faded jeans.
“Do you need some help?” I asked, my voice sounding strange to me. I wasn’t the kind of person to talk to strangers or invite trouble into my life.
“You offering?” There was a sharpness in her voice, but also a tiredness, like she’d heard every empty promise before.
“I don’t know.” The words tumbled out before I could think. I stepped out of the car. “I just saw you there, and it didn’t seem right.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze fixed on mine. “What’s not right is life.” She let out a bitter laugh. “And cheating, no-good husbands in particular. But you don’t seem like someone who knows much about that.”
I winced, even though I knew she was right.
“Maybe not.” I paused, unsure how to continue. “Do you have a place to go tonight?”
She hesitated, her eyes darting away for a second before locking back onto mine. “No.”
The word hung in the air between us. That was all I needed to hear.
“Look, I have a garage. It’s more like a guest house. You could stay there until you get back on your feet.”
I expected her to laugh in my face, to tell me to go away. But instead, she blinked at me, the edges of her tough exterior starting to crack.
“I don’t take charity,” she said, her voice quieter now, more vulnerable.
“It’s not charity,” I replied, though I wasn’t entirely sure what it was. “It’s just a place to stay. No strings attached.”
“Okay. Just for a night,” she replied. “I’m Lexi, by the way.”
The drive back to my house was quiet. She sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, her arms wrapped around herself like a shield.
When we arrived, I led her to the garage-turned-guest-house. It wasn’t fancy, but it was enough for someone to live in.
“You can stay here,” I said, pointing to the small space. “There’s food in the fridge, too.”
“Thanks,” she muttered.
Over the next few days, Lexi stayed in the garage, but we saw each other for meals. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something about her pulled at me.
Maybe it was how she kept going despite everything life threw at her, or perhaps the loneliness in her eyes, which mirrored my own. Maybe it was just the simple fact that I didn’t feel so alone anymore.
One night, as we sat across from each other at dinner, she began to open up.
“I used to be an artist,” she said softly. “Well, I tried to be. I had a small gallery, a few shows… but it all fell apart.”
“What happened?” I asked, genuinely curious.
She laughed, but it was a hollow sound. “Life happened. My husband left me for a younger woman he got pregnant and kicked me out. My whole life unraveled after that.”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered.
She shrugged. “It’s in the past.”
But I could tell it wasn’t, not really. The pain was still there, just below the surface. I knew that feeling all too well.
As the days passed, I found myself looking forward to our conversations.
Lexi had a sharp wit and a biting sense of humor that cut through the gloom of my empty house. Slowly, the hollow space inside me seemed to shrink.
It all changed one afternoon. I had been rushing around, trying to find the air pump for one of my cars. I barged into the garage without knocking, expecting to grab it quickly and leave. But what I saw stopped me cold.
There, spread across the floor, were dozens of paintings. Of me.
Or rather, grotesque versions of me. One painting showed me with chains around my neck, another with blood pouring from my eyes. In the corner, there was one of me lying in a casket.
I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. This was how she saw me? After everything I’d done for her?
I backed out of the room before she noticed me, my heart pounding.
That night, as we sat down for dinner, I couldn’t shake the images from my mind. Whenever I looked at Lexi, all I could see were those horrific portraits.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Lexi,” I said, my voice tight. “What are those paintings?”
Her fork clattered to the plate. “What are you talking about?”
“I saw them,” I said, my voice rising despite my efforts to stay calm. “The paintings of me. The chains, the blood, the coffin. What the hell is that?”
Her face went pale. “I didn’t mean for you to see those,” she stammered.
“Well, I did,” I said coldly. “Is that how you see me? As some monster?”
“No, it’s not that.” She wiped her eyes, her voice shaky. “I was just… angry. I’ve lost everything, and you have so much. It wasn’t fair, and I couldn’t help it. I needed to let it out.”
“So you painted me like a villain?” I asked sharply.
She nodded, shame etched on her face. “I’m sorry.”
I sat back, letting the silence stretch between us. I wanted to forgive her. I wanted to understand. But I couldn’t.
“I think it’s time for you to go,” I said flatly.
Lexi’s eyes widened. “Wait, please—”
“No,” I interrupted. “It’s over. You need to leave.”
The next morning, I helped her pack her things and drove her to a nearby shelter. She didn’t say much, and neither did I. Before she stepped out of the car, I handed her a few hundred dollars.
She hesitated but then took the money with trembling hands.
Weeks passed, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of loss. Not just because of the disturbing paintings, but because of what we had before. There had been warmth and connection — something I hadn’t felt in years.
Then, one day, a package arrived at my door. Inside was a painting, but this one was different. It wasn’t grotesque or twisted. It was a serene portrait of me, captured with a peace I hadn’t known I possessed.
Tucked inside the package was a note with Lexi’s name and phone number scrawled at the bottom.
My finger hovered over the call button, my heart beating faster than it had in years. Getting worked up over a phone call felt silly, but there was so much more riding on it than I wanted to admit.
I swallowed hard and hit “Call” before I could second-guess myself. It rang twice before she picked up.
“Hello?” Her voice was hesitant, like she sensed it could only be me.
I cleared my throat. “Lexi. It’s me. I got your painting… it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I wasn’t sure if you’d like it. I figured I owed you something better than… those other paintings.”
“You didn’t owe me anything, Lexi. I wasn’t exactly fair to you, either.”
“You had every right to be upset.” Her voice was steadier now. “What I painted — those were things I needed to get out of me, but they weren’t really about you. You were just… there. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize, Lexi. I forgave you the moment I saw that painting.”
Her breath hitched. “You did?”
“I did,” I said, and I meant it. It wasn’t just the painting that had changed my mind; it was the feeling that I had let something meaningful slip away because I was too scared to face my pain. “And… well, I’ve been thinking… maybe we could start over.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, maybe we could talk. Maybe over dinner? If you’d like.”
“I’d like that,” she said. “I’d really like that.”
We made plans to meet in a few days. Lexi told me she used the money I gave her to buy new clothes and get a job. She was planning to move into an apartment when she got her first paycheck.
I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of having dinner with Lexi again.
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