The love of my life died when she was 38. Our four children were 15, 13, 11 and 9 at the time. They’re currently 22, 24, 26, 28. I did my best that I knew how to do. I know it is not what they deserved. I could never take her place.
I do not think that I can impart, with words, how hard it was keeping her from the things that would harm her most. Aa time goes on, the trauma hits me harder, as I let it in, little by little.
I love my late wife. I love the mother of my children. Keeping her from hurting herself was… Difficult.
The wracking sobs as I called 911, while performing CPR on her. It’s been almost 15 years and it’s still traumatizing.
Her mother blames me for her death. To be honest. She might be right. I didn’t keep her baby safe. I could have tried harder. I could have insisted on her being committed. I could have abrogated her right to self determination. But I didn’t. And that’s on me.
But I can’t tell her mother that. Or her sons or daughter.
Instead. I tell you. Thanks for listening.
Don’t beat yourself up. The hardest and best lesson I ever learned is that you cannot control the actions of another adult, full stop.
Even when you know they are on a destructive path. Even when you have the answers.
You can voice your concern and keep trying to do so, but you cannot control what another adult does or chooses not to do.
It’s not on you to keep another adult safe. Don’t put that on yourself.
