It didn't take the death of her husband for Lorelle Chorkey to know what an amazing person he was.
Ultimately, as Al Chorkey fought with an assailant at the couple's home Feb. 10, 2002, he gave his life for her.
That fact is heartbreaking for Lorelle Chorkey, but she knew to expect nothing less from Al.
"We found a pot of gold with each other," she said recently. "We indulged ourselves with each other for 10 years. I am grateful for every single day that I had with him. Al was the best thing that ever happened to me."
At about 5:10 a.m. Feb. 10, 2002, Christopher Fiegehen, 24, the estranged boyfriend of Lorelle Chorkey's daughter, climbed up the balcony of the couple's Minden home. He shot through the French door, hitting Lorelle in the upper right chest as she stood in her bathroom after awakening.
"What are you doing?!" Lorelle remembers asking the man she recognized immediately as he continued shooting then stood there. As Lorelle ran to the phone, she passed Al, who had fallen asleep on the couch, running toward Fiegehen.
As Lorelle Chorkey ran through the home to call for help, she could hear Fiegehen and her husband struggling.
"I heard their bodies hitting the deck," she said.
In a panic, she called 911 and told them she'd been shot and her husband was fighting with the attacker. From behind, Fiegehen shot her once in the head. When police arrived, they found Lorelle on the floor in the kitchen near death. Al, 50, was mortally wounded on the deck from a series of stab wounds inflicted upon him by Fiegehen.
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Fiegehen was sentenced to life in prison in a trial that ended in July.E
A year and a half later, Lorelle Chorkey is still recovering from her injuries.
Sometimes when she is alone, she writes letters to God, searching for answers to her recovery.
"Dear God, this is Lorelle, I didn't die," she wrote recently. "I am doing every type of healing therapy I know of to enable me to return to the mainstream of life, however I'm still sitting on the sidelines watching life go by."
"I'm like a broken woman, mentally, spiritually, emotionally, everything," she said.
She said she has found the strength to continue because of Al.
"I have to live because I should be worthy of the gift of life. Al gave that to me. Sometimes I wish I weren't here, but life is a gift, and Al was a gift. I have to honor that."
The gunshot wound to her head stole 50 percent of her range of vision in both eyes. She has paralysis on her left side, much like that of a stroke victim. When she regained consciousness a month after the attack, she was unable to form words clearly.
Therapy has helped her with the paralysis, and time has helped her adapt to her lack of peripheral vision. There's nothing she can do restore her eyesight.
The independent mother, who raised her four daughters virtually alone until she met Al, is completely dependent on others. She is back at work as an accountant with the help of her daughters. She is no longer financially secure. Her home that was almost paid for has been refinanced.
In an effort to restore her life, Chorkey, 55, a deeply spiritual woman, has made an appointment with a yoga clinic in India, where she hopes to find the care she needs. She believes the yoga will help rehabilitate her body, mind and soul.
"The clinic treats paralysis, treats post-traumatic stress. They treat all of it -- the grief of the loss of Al," she said. "I have a big semi-load of stuff that I'm carrying around."
But the $7,000 price tag for the clinic is daunting.
"I am motivated to have a life beyond my present, precarious attachment," she said.
As she moves around her home, Lorelle said she has conversations with God and the universe. She is searching for her purpose and believes she is still here only because she has something valuable to contribute.
Perhaps, she ponders, she should help others overcome trauma. Maybe she'll become a student of her situation and use it for healing.
She believes her first step to understanding it all lies in the visit to the clinic. She's hoping her community will aid her in that goal.
"I'd be grateful for the means to attend this clinic. I'm asking for some help," she said.
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Contributions may be made to Bank of America, the Lorelle Chorkey and Family donation Account No. 004965462161 to aid Chorkey in her recovery.