Noah and I have been writing intense long things to each other for most of this year. We did it in a walled garden. I’m rereading big chunks of it and feeling like absolute garbage. I was not as good as he deserved. I did not serve him in the ways he was owed and I feel so much shame. I feel self indulgent and pathetic and weak and unworthy of the glory that is sharing Noah’s life.

I lost it. There are nine million “what if’s” that could have changed this and every single one is beating in my head. I am so sorry, Noah. I don’t know how I will ever feel joy again. You were my joy. You were the center of my heart. You were my partner and my companion and the only one I had to care about pleasing in any way. You were so easily pleased. I loved pleasing you.

I wanted to spend the rest of my life gardening while you played the piano with the window open. We hit the fucking lottery. We were there. Our time was starting. And a perfect storm of stupid things mean you are dead. I am alone. I do hear your voice in my head but I sincerely doubt I will ever find a way to be ok with another human. I can’t. I lost the best one because I was stupid and I didn’t bubble wrap him enough. I shouldn’t have asked him to go ice skating. I shouldn’t have ignored him and left it to be his problem when he told me the boot was too tight and it was hurting the top of his foot. He didn’t have fun. He went for me and I was a jerk and I didn’t help him. I focused on making our daughter have a good time instead because I didn’t feel I could handle them both.

I am a selfish piece of shit and I hate me so much.

I am making sure your babies eat. Yes, including vegetables. Today I said I needed some time alone. Noah I am so sorry for everything. I’m sorry I invited that man to have dinner with our family so that he wrecked this part of our year. Hell, maybe you wouldn’t have died because all the rest of it wouldn’t have happened.

I feel like I have done everything wrong for a very long time. I did not make the choices that guaranteed me all the time with Noah. I fucked up the calculus.

The fact is that he died and it was a ridiculous odds loss and he was a grown up that picked all of the things that happened to him. But I am the daughter of alcoholics and that means that everything is always my fault.

I loved him so much. I loved his too muchness and his brashness and his silliness and his cruelty and his selfishness. I loved his relentlessness. He was so much. He could suck all the oxygen out of a room before replacing it an instant later. He made everyone sparkle and shine. He was good at making people feel interesting.

My chest is burning because it feels wrong for me to breathe if Noah can’t share the oxygen. I want to give to him so much it is ripping me apart.

I don’t need to keep designing my garden so there are hiding places for us to have sex. Well, that simplifies my needs. There are a million things on my list of “do for Noah” and now they are all coming to a stop. I don’t need to have a fucking subscription order for foot shaving tools. We will spend almost no money on alcohol and our food budget is going to go down a lot.

I have started cancelling your monthly recurring stuff. I’m so freaked out. I feel like I am editing you out of the world and it feels morally wrong. Hell, rebuilding rails just came up for renewal. I’m paying that one and letting it work until it stops working. Maybe one of the kids can figure out how to operate it.

I don’t want to.

It was hard shoving myself into the size of box that fit you but it was a good kind of hard. It wasn’t easy and sometimes it chafed but I knew so much happiness with you. Yes, I still suffered from all my shit, but I wasn’t alone. I trusted you enough for you to be the person who got to see me behind closed doors. All of me. You are the only person I trust to really love and want me. You looked for me like water in the desert. I did the same.

Then I lost you.

Noah, how could you leave me?