Sometimes, when the depression over the loss of B gets particularly bad, the obsession over the what-ifs start. There are always left over questions that you have when a loved one passes away, and it is the unanswered echoes of the what-ifs that can keep me awake at night. I have wondered on countless sleepless nights if there was anything that I could have done differently. The last months, days, and hours replay over and over. I scan my memories for some clue that it was coming, if there was something that I could have prevented, something that I could have done that would have changed the course and kept him here with me.
What if I would have made sure he took his medicine every day?
What if I had INSISTED that he quit smoking?
What if I made sure he went to every doctor appointment, even if I had to drive him there myself?
What if I would have made his lunch every day so that he ate healthier?
What if I wouldn't have pushed him so hard to work so hard and to be a good provider?
What if I would have been there?
What if we would have not fought the day before?
What if I would have insisted on a second opinion when the doctor wouldn't perform a bypass?
What if I was the reason?
I know that no amount of what-ifs will bring him back and the endless wondering will someday drive me nuts, but sometimes, I just can't help it. There is a tremendous amount of guilt that I subscribe to because there were so many factors that were so seemingly preventable. There are feelings of failing him as a lover, as a friend, as a soulmate, and as his family. I should have been keeping a better eye out for him, as I know he would have done for the kids and I. What will I say when the kids get a little older and start asking specifics? How will I explain to them that yes, it could have been prevented, but it wasn't?
Could have been.
Should have been.
Would have been.
What if life had a rewind button?