My Regret: A Widowers Confession

When a person dies their sense of hearing is the last to go. I hate that so much. That very fact lingers in my mind from the time I wake to the time I fall asleep. Just as day follows night I think of that, and then I begin to remember, begin to regret; the very last words sienna heard me say. I regret every vowel in which I spoke. Her body laid motionless on our bedroom floor. “I love you” should have been the last phrase to leave my lips and makes its way to her ears. Instead, it was none other than “finally a free man”.

Sienna was the best thing that I had. She was my first love, best friend, wife, mother of my children, and so much more. A beautiful woman ennie was. Yet as the years went by she began to get sick, it was becoming too much to handle. Nonetheless, I never cheated. I LOVED her. I still do. Ennie deserved so much more. I wish she was still here standing next to me, holding my hand, whispering in my ear “you are not alone and “everything will be alright.” She’s gone now.

Her mind, illness, and her own thoughts must have become too much for her to handle on her own. And maybe that my fault. My absence as well must have driven her to find comfort in not another man but her medication. All the nights I spent at work rather than in bed with her, holding her, supporting her, making sure she wasn’t alone. Maybe if I paid more attention rather than drinking away the sorrows I didn’t really have, rather than feeling sorry for myself. My wife was the one who was sick and suffering. She was the one with bipolar disorder. I felt sorry for myself and I had no right to. Why did I feel sorry for myself? Because she wasn’t happy because some days she couldn’t get out of bed and sometimes she was up and out so early. She never wanted to have sex anymore. Those had been the reasons I ignored her. I am ashamed. I didn’t deserve ennie. Ennie didn't deserve me. She was too good for me, and I was not enough for her. I don’t deserve anything after what I did to her.