The guilt of it all

They say that time heals. So why is it that after four years, it hasn’t got any easier?

I remember so vividly the phone call I got to say you’d slipped away. That you took your last breath surrounded by your family, except I should’ve been there too.

I’ve always felt guilty about not being there. Not just on that morning, but in the weeks leading up to it too. I let myself be consumed by distraction because I couldn’t face seeing you in the way you were – when I looked at you, that wasn’t you looking back at me.

It will always be my deepest regret that I didn’t come home for you.

Your humour carried on even to the day we laid you to rest. Your coffin came in to 24 Seconds to Go by Johnny Cash, and you went out to Ring of Fire. I can’t listen to those songs without thinking of you.

I’ll never go a day without thinking about you. Wishing, wondering, hoping that I’m making you proud. There’s so much you’ve missed out on, and so much to come that you should be here for.

There will always be a lot of things I regret. But I will always, always be grateful that the last words I ever said to you were, “I love you.”