Why couldn't it have been me?

I've always been scared of death. Maybe it was the thought of the pain during it or the endless darkness. Never thought that I'd be sat by silently in my room clutching the single memory I had left my old car keys. I had begged you not to go, that you were too drunk. Though that never stopped you. All that happened was you got mad and snatched my keys off the table repeating. "I have to go pick up Luke." slurring all your words. I tried to remind you that it was a Sunday and that Luke was with their mother. In pure anger I watched as you stormed out drunk to my car and slammed the door shut. I was about to run outside, about to stop you before you pulled out of the drive and sped off. Next thing I try is to call you over the phone. Calling twice the first time before you finally pick up, annoyed with me for spamming your phone. "I told you I need to pick up Luke what type of idiot are you?" You spoke in a slurred voice. I kept repeating "Its Sunday baby please will you listen?" Then all of a sudden I hear a loud crash over you line. In panic I try to get a response. "Baby? I love you are you okay?!" Little did I know our last talk would be us yelling at each other. It still pains me to this day even two years after. Now I'm sat here wondering why couldn't it have been me? I should of offered to drive him. Its all my fault. Why wasn't it me....?