13. You were mine to lose

There is this line in a Taylor Swift song “you weren’t mine to lose”… and that line has been spinning around in my head lately.

In the early hours of Bret’s death, after the autopilot of calling 911, and after all the chaos in my house left and they took Bret away with them, after calling his daughter to tell her he had died, after having Ian have to go through this again and see what he saw, after I all that… I just felt guilt. Guilt that Bret had come at a moment’s notice to help me, as he always did when I needed him, so therefore I was responsible for him and keeping him safe. For keeping the person I loved safe.

He was mine to lose.

I was supposed to take care of him. I was supposed to be his person. I was supposed to love him for the rest of our lives, but in the end it was the rest of his life.

He was mine to lose and I lost him.

The immense guilt I feel for losing him… for not honoring how he felt the morning, for not having more concern when he said he didn't feel well and for making it all about me. It was always all about me, and Bret always made it easy for me to feel that way because he loved me.  And the guilt for feeling that way when really it should've been all about us. All about each other.

He was mine to lose and I lost him.

The sadness I feel from his death, his loss, this missing peice in me, is just non-stop. When I'm laughing, when I'm crying, driving, when I'm cooking, when I'm sitting at the world’s most boring job, these images of him on the couch play in my mind nonstop. There is no relief. And the guilt takes over… I should have… I should have…

Guilt that has become my endless companion. Guilt that I know well. Guilt that I lost another wonderful man. That I let this horrible thing happen again…

I should have been engaged more with Brian, I should have pushed more for us to work out our issues. I should have MADE him talk to me, to tell me what was going on, I should have pushed harder for him to stop,  I should've pushed harder for what I felt he was doing to himself. I should have been more involved with what Brian’s doctors were telling me in the hospital. I should've pushed harder to be his advocate, to take care of him, to fight FOR him. I should've pushed harder to understand what was happening. I just did not believe he would die. What they were telling me was inconceivable. I should have paid more attention… But I didn’t and he died. And I was right there. It happened on my watch.

And it happened again…. With Bret I should have taken care of him. I should have listened to him when he didn't feel well. I should've checked in with him more that morning. I should've asked more questions. I should have noticed he didn’t text me back. I should've been home. I should have been able to resuscitate him. I should have been there when he died. I should have been the last thing he saw, touched, to be there for his last breath.

He was mine to lose and I lost him.

I should have been better to him when he was alive. I should have shown him the same never ending, hold your hand all the time, whisper in your ear, tell you all the time, crazy, out-loud, in public, in your face, out of his mind love that he showed me. I should have.

He was mine to lose and I lost him.

and with this kind of grief, with this kind of sadness, I lost everything else. I lost people, I’ve lost my desire to do anything, I've lost the ability to give a shit at all because

he was mine to lose and I lost him.

I lost him.