My standard solution to our big arguments was, go ahead and leave, I’ll do just fine on my own.  I was pretty positive I could live by myself in a nice little condo close to work.  I had a well-paying job, knew how to cook, and paid all the bills; I could take care of myself. I’ve never been, nor am I now, a very social person but I have lots of hobbies that require just me. Yup, I would do just fine on my own.  For almost four years those words were the reason he died.  It was my fault; I got exactly what I asked for. Remembering the day he died and blaming myself drove my deepest agonies.  I could not bring myself to tell anyone because I thought I was being punished and I deserved it.  I’m a very rational person but even that failed me; there was never any thought that this was absolutely ridiculous, that it was no one’s fault. When I finally told my daughter, it felt like I tore my heart in two, which is just the opposite of how healing this confession was. Blame is pointless; it doesn’t fix anything.


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