Natasha was 29 at the time, and married to producer Robert Fox. That wasn’t enough to stop the romance from blossoming between her and Liam, though. Her marriage was falling apart, and at the same time, she “fell very much in love” with Liam.

Their chemistry was obvious for everyone present. Luckily for Liam, who was 40 at the time, Natasha’s marriage to Robert was already coming to an end.
When Natasha celebrated her 30th birthday, Liam decided to send her a card from the set of Schindler’s List.
”You’re catching up with me. Lots of love, Oskar.” (Liam played Oskar Schindler in the film.)
But Natasha didn’t find the message as romantic as intended. Instead, she decided it was time to be upfront.
She responded by saying: ”This is like a letter from a buddy. What is our relationship?”

Right then and there, Liam knew he had fallen in love with her.
”That was when I knew I really loved this person,” he said.
”I thought, ‘This is real and genuine and is something that has to be protected.’”
Not long after, in the summer of 1994, the two were married on a farm in upstate New York.
Had two sons together
In 2018, the 63-year-old Taken actor recently appeared on My Favorite Song with John Benjamin Hickey on SiriusXM channel, when he recalled a super sweet moment from his 1994 wedding to Richardson.
Neeson revealed that their wedding song was Van Morrison’s “Crazy Love.”
They had two sons together: Michael born in 1995, followed by Daniel in 1996.

Tragically, Natasha passed away in 2009 at age 45, following a skiing accident in Quebec.
Natasha was taking private skiing lessons in the Mont Tremblant resort when she fell on a beginner’s slope. As Richardson was skiing near Montreal, she fell and took a blow to the head. She was not wearing a helmet.
In the beginning, no one, including Richardson, thought it was severe.
The actress felt okay and against her instructor’s will, she decided to go ahead with her skiing lesson. After a while, the instructor called a ski patrol and wanted medical assistance and an ambulance. But Natalie refused.
However, Natalie and the ski instructor returned to her luxurious Hotel Quintessence room and did checkups to ensure she was okay.
Later, it was revealed that the paramedics who came to the room were turned away. They again recommended she should be seen by a doctor.

Approximately an hour after the incident Mrs. Richardson was not feeling good. An ambulance was called and Mrs. Richardson was brought to the Centre Hospitalier Laurentien in Ste-Agathe and was later trasferred to Hôpital du Sacre-Coeur”.
It turned out that she had suffered serious trauma and it turned out that the impact had left her brain “squashed up against the sided of her skull.”
“I was told she was brain dead. She was on life support and stuff,” Neeson recalled. “And I went in… and told her I loved her. I said, ‘Sweetie, you’re not coming back from this. You’ve banged your head. It’s – I don’t know if you can hear me, but that’s – this is what’s gone down.’”
In the end, Neeson understood that he had to remove her from life support. On 60 Minutes, he explained that the two had “made a pact” that if either one of them got into a “vegetative state,” they were to “pull the plug.”
Natasha passed away on March 18, 2009. But one comforting thing for Neeson was finding her wife’s organ donor status. He said that her heart, liver, and kidneys went to people in need.
For five years following her tragic death, grief-stricken Liam kept silent, finally opening up in a 2014 episode of 60 Minutes.
”I went in to her and I told her I loved her…”
He went on to tell Anderson Cooper that he hadn’t understood the seriousness of Natasha’s accident.
Liam recalled arriving at the hospital. ”She was on life support”, he said.

At the hospital, Liam was shown Natasha’s X-rays.
Doctors told him that his wife was alive, but was considered to be in a vegetative state. She would never recover, according to the medical professionals.
”I’ve taken a tumble in the snow..”
”I spoke to her and she said, “Oh darling. I’ve taken a tumble in the snow.”
‘That’s how she described it.”
It’s heartbreaking to hear him describe their final moments together.
”I went in to her and told her I loved her. Said, ‘Sweetie, you’re not coming back from this. You’ve banged your head. It’s – I don’t know if you can hear me, but that’s – this is what’s gone down. And we’re bringing ya back to New York. All your family and friends will come”, he said.

And five years after she passed away, Liam was understandably still struggling to come to terms with his loss.
In an interview with Loaded magazine, he said: ”Her death was never real. It still kind of isn’t.”
Looking back at their marriage, one of Liam says one of his favorite things about Natasha was her generous and infectious maternal love.
“She cared for everybody,” he said. “She has a motherly instinct. And she’d make dinners for everyone and just looked looked after us all.”

The couple had consented to be organ donors, and Liam saw that promise through after Natasha’s death.
With her passing, Natasha gave life to three people, even though she left three family members behind whose lives would never be the same again.
”Life is very short”
Now, each year, as their wedding anniversary rolls around, Liam remembers the love they shared.
In 2016, Liam shared a message with fans on social media remembering his late wife. He advised everyone to cherish their partners and make the most of each and every day together.
”We have to stop and be thankful for our spouses. Because, life is very short. Spend time with your spouses. Treat them well. Because, one day, when you look up from your phone, they won’t be there anymore. Live and love (every day) like it’s your last. Because, one day, it will be. Take chances and go live life. Tell the ones you love, that you love them every day.”
Liam could not underline enough that people should not take any moment for granted. “Life is worth living,” he said.

Very true, Liam. Very true indeed.
What beautiful memories he has to cling to, and wonderful life instructions for the rest of us to remember and guide us through our own lives!
I GOT A CALL FROM MY MOTHER AND HER FIRST WORDS WERE, “PLEASE, SAVE ME FROM YOUR SON!”

The phone call was a jolt, a cold splash of dread that ripped through the quiet of my afternoon. My mother’s voice, usually a warm, familiar melody, was a panicked whisper, a desperate plea. “Please, come save me from him!” she cried, the line abruptly going dead.
My son, Michael, had volunteered to spend the summer with her, a surprising turn of events. He’d always been a city kid, resistant to the quiet charm of my mother’s small-town life. But this year, he’d insisted, offering to take care of her, to give her caregiver a break.
My mother, fiercely independent despite her disability, refused to leave her house or move into assisted living. Michael’s offer seemed like a win-win, a chance for him to prove his newfound maturity, a break for me.
The first week had been idyllic. Michael was cheerful on the phone, regaling me with stories of fishing trips and local festivals. But a nagging unease had crept in when he consistently deflected my requests to speak with my mother, claiming she was busy or asleep.
Now, this phone call, a desperate cry for help, confirmed my worst fears. I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed my keys, my heart pounding against my ribs, and sped towards my mother’s town.
The drive was a blur, a frantic race against time. The familiar landmarks of my childhood blurred past, each mile a torturous delay. As I pulled into my mother’s street, a sense of dread settled over me. The house, usually a beacon of warmth and light, stood dark and silent, its paint peeling, its once vibrant garden overgrown and neglected.
I parked the car and rushed to the front door, my hand trembling as I turned the knob. The door creaked open, revealing a scene that made my blood run cold.
The house was a disaster. Furniture was overturned, dust motes danced in the single beam of moonlight filtering through a grimy window, and a strange, acrid smell hung in the air.
“Mom?” I called out, my voice echoing through the silent house. “Michael?”
I moved through the living room, my footsteps muffled by the thick layer of dust on the floor. The kitchen was a scene of chaos, dishes piled high in the sink, food rotting on the counter.
Then, I saw her. My mother was slumped in her wheelchair, her head resting on the armrest, her body still.
“Mom!” I cried, rushing to her side. I gently shook her shoulder, and her eyes fluttered open.
“Oh, darling,” she whispered, her voice weak. “He’s gone. He took everything.”
“Who, Mom? Michael?”
She nodded, her eyes filled with fear. “He changed, darling. He… he wasn’t the boy I knew. He became obsessed with… with things. He kept asking about your father’s old coin collection, and your grandmother’s jewelry.”
I helped her sit up, and she continued, “He said he needed to ‘make things right’ and that we were holding him back. He stopped letting the caregiver in, and he wouldn’t let me call you. He said he was taking care of me, but he was just… waiting.”
“Waiting for what, Mom?”
“I don’t know, darling. I woke up this morning, and he was gone. He took the coins, the jewelry, even my old locket. He left me here, alone, in the dark.”
I looked around the ravaged house, the empty spaces where precious heirlooms once sat, and a wave of anger washed over me. Michael, my son, had betrayed my trust, had abandoned his grandmother, had stolen from her.
I called the police, my voice trembling with rage. As I recounted the events of the past few weeks, a sense of disbelief settled over me. How could my son, the boy I had raised with love and care, have turned into this?
The police searched the house, documenting the damage, taking my mother’s statement. They promised to investigate, to find Michael, to bring him to justice.
As I sat beside my mother, holding her frail hand, I knew that the summer had taken a dark turn, a turn that would forever change our lives. I didn’t know what had happened to my son, or what had driven him to this act of betrayal. But I knew that I would find him, and I would make him answer for what he had done.
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