Brandon’s death changed me. I don’t think or feel the same way about life anymore. Then again, how could his death NOT change me?
It’s these changes that cause me pain. I don’t mean that these changes are bad. Quite the opposite, I think his death made a better person out of me. And that’s the thing: I feel so much damn guilt about the old Val and how she used to be. Sometimes when I am doing something for Will, whether it be cooking, laundry, or any other favors, I can’t help but feel sad for just a split second: I so rarely did those things for Brandon. A part of it could be attributed to the fact that for most of our relationship I was working and going to school full time, which left me exhausted a lot, so I didn’t have the free time I now have for doing such things. But the other part, the one where I feel I was very selfish back then, that’s the part that kicks at me, continuously.
I was selfish, and it never occurred to me to ask if I could do anything for him…and he was just as busy as I was, with his crazy work hours and school. He must have been so tired all the time, so fed up with people always asking him to do things for them. He never asked anyone for things. Never. He just did things for others, all the time, myself included. And looking back, I wonder if I was the person I am today, would he still be alive? Would me doing little things here and there make his life better than it was? Would it have made him feel more appreciated? I can’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, if I was better to him, things could have ended differently. And the amount of guilt that leaves me feeling is suffocating.
In a few weeks it’ll be 3 years since he died, and these thoughts and regrets are swimming up to the surface more than usual. Maybe that’s normal.
I wonder if I will ever stop feeling guilt. Probably not.
They say that survivors of suicide are left drowning in guilt and regrets.
They’d be right.