is gone,
some
by your
own
hand.
Why?
I do not
understand.
I am
humbled
by
my own
limitations
that
I
could not
help you
want
to live.
I am
defeated
by
my own
pain,
&
still
I
do not
accept
what you
said
about me.
The journey back is always about relationships, and the conflict
and disappointments inherent in a million choices along the way. Because of the way Sharon died, a drug overdose, the shame and remorse
I felt were sometimes debilitating. It was never clear whether
she died on purpose
or not. If
she did it intentionally, that was one grief;
if it was an accident
that meant an entirely different type of grief. Sharon had come to me a few months
before and told me that
she was struggling with PCP and alcohol. She and I were in counseling together at the time of her death, so perhaps
that would have meant we were succeeding. The confusion made my guilt
especially persistent and difficult. I felt constantly tortured that I had failed to do something
to help her choose to live.
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