As the year turns to 2017 I begin looking back and feel a great burden of responsibility for the death of my wife. We weren’t together when she died which I hugely regret. Maybe I could have saved her from being depressed.
We were married in 2007 after only being together for a year. But I knew I wanted to marry her. She was funny, caring and would do anything for anyone else.
Oh there was an age gap and people said I was looking for a mother figure, but that was nonsense.
Maybe I should have fought a little harder to keep my family together. Rather than each grieve separately, we could have come together and tried to go on.
I wasn’t the best husband that I can swear to. I was working 12 hour shifts, and she was in a terrible home. We were living in a mould infested pit of a 1 bed flat in Spennymoor, with hell of neighbors. Life got in the way and we drifted apart.
The last time I saw her was at the airport when she was leaving for the last time in 2009. She didn’t look back, if she did she’d have seen my tears and the regret I felt. Maybe she had tears too and that’s why she didn’t look.
Then apparently she was dating again, so I sent the papers to file for divorce. Maybe that was the last straw and she took her life. I wanted her to be able to move on. Maybe she wasn’t really dating and was hoping to get back together.
I wasn’t told she’d passed away, I came across it on the obituaries online in 2014, 2 years after the fact. She’d died in February 2012 and I wasn’t even told.
I regret never making up with her, and now there’s no chance I can. Even just being friends would have been good for us both.
She was so much stronger than I am, she had the fight and determination that being in the military gave her. She was only 51 when she passed.
Too young really…
She was adopted and never knew her biological mother and father, she was placed into care and that really upset her a lot in later life.
I hope she found her real family and is at peace.