Guilt1

Did I do enough? Did I do the right things? Was I disappointing? Did all the frustration and short words of your final time at home outweigh how much I loved you and the care I did give? I could have taken better care. I could have not gotten overstressed, overtired, overly angry, overly sad, overworked, overanxious, overly scared, overly agitated, couldn't I have? Could I have? You gave of your whole heart when I needed you and I gave sass when nothing was controllable. Did you hear my apology? Did you feel my shame? Did you understand that none of that was about you. Not really. It was my sense of "not fair". It was my fear. It was my denial. It was my "this isn't how this was supposed to be". It was my breaking heart.

Why didn't I hold your hand as you died? I can say that it's because I didn't want to disturb you. I can say it's because you were already going through enough and I didn't want to be the cause of more. I can say it's because you looked roasty toasty in your bed. But you didn't. I can say that I was holding your hand through the blanket. I can say even that I just didn't think about reaching under the blanket. But I think really it was because the death rattle scared me. The agonal breathing terrified me. Watching you die was the worst kind of pain. I was thinking about me.

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