It is a waste of time to obsess about questions for which there are no answers, but over the past eleven months I've struggled with that sort of question. This morning it all kind of exploded.
Was I there for Brian in the way he needed as he dealt with his illness and mortality. If I were to ask my friends, they would answer that of course I was. I was by his side from the time of his diagnosis until his death. He died in my loving arms. But that doesn't mean that I was there in the way he needed.
Did I give him the opportunity to explore his relationship with his own dying? He insisted he was OK with it all, but I can't understand how that could be. Was I so wrapped up in my own pain and grief, that I wasn't truly there to help him with his?
I can't know. That is a question that might haunt me for the rest of my life. Was I there for him?
I'm not dying. I don't have a serious health problem, but I do have a health problem that causes me chronic physical pain, and when that pain becomes extreme, I miss him even more. He was he only one who could comfort me when the pain was too much to bear. Just a hug from him made it OK.
He was the only person who knew me and loved me uncondiotionally. He was the first person ever to respect me. He was my everything, and without him I am so desperately alone. Not lonely - I have amazing friends - but alone. What worth do I have if I'm no longer Brian's wife?
So when I think back to those last months, when I was still his wife, and he was my everything, I can't help but wonder if I failed him by allowing my grief to overwhelm me while he was still alive. I know how much he loved me, and I know he would forgive me if I was lost in my own pain, but can I forgive myself?
No comments:
Post a Comment