I can't help myself. I have been beating myself up....and I think I deserve it.
I wonder if Jeff knew I loved him. I worry that he didn't realize how very important he was to me. He always said, "I love you." when we hung up on the phone....even if he was angry. I didn't. My petty little gesture haunts me.
It was Jeff's birthday nine days before he died. I had plans to do something great. Something fun and creative. I was going to do something with the photos I had taken of the kids days before. I even had the card! Liv and I made devil's foodcake cupcakes. Briar promptly threw all but two of them in the dirty dish water....I didn't remake them. I didn't give him the card. I didn't even give him a gift. He was upset. I thought I had time to make it better.
The night before he died he said to me, "You know you're my best friend, right?" I just said, "I know." WHY? What was possessing me? Why didn't I tell him that he was mine too that time? Why didn't I hold him just a little longer that night?
These moments replay like a squeaky hamster wheel as the moments pass through my head over and over again. I stare at the ceiling in the dark taking stock of all the awful thigns I said and did. I always thought I was the 'evolved' one. The 'mature' one. I was wrong. I was so wrong.
I wish I could go back and tell him how I really feel. Tell him that I was so lucky to have him. That he taught me so much. That I was so happy to have him. Tell him I have always loved him....that I was an ass.
Here's the story.
2 days ago