I just read an article about a woman who got mad at her husband for working so much. He came home late one night and looked terrible and exhausted. She worried he wasn’t taking care of himself and was, ” sick of it ” and made him sleep on the couch. She woke up the next morning and he had died. Choked on something in his sleep. Of course she’s going through the agony of those last words to him, going to bed angry, then later found out he was working so much to give her a surprise trip to Prague for their anniversary. When I would’ve read that article before your passing, I would’ve just felt empathy and thought,” Man, I can’t imagine. So sad” then flipped to the next article without another thought. Things are different now. I can feel her pain. The unbearable feeling of him dying not knowing how she really felt. That she was upset at him, yes but ultimately WANTED him to be close to her which is why she was so upset to begin with. Now he died. Without those words being spoken. Explained. Without everything being clear. Fucking Heartbreaking.
I’m flooded with great memories the last times we talked and hung out. Raven’s birthday was actually really, really good. The photos, some of your last, prove that. Haunts me to know that very night, in exactly one month’s time, we’d all be at my house again after just finding out you died. Our last conversation was you calmly checking on me. You called and just told me you had been thinking about me and worried and just wanted to make sure everything was okay. No fighting. No misunderstandings.
I’m haunted by the fact that you died that night without knowing some details. I loved you Levi. The REAL you. I didn’t want, for one moment, to be away from you. If I could’ve had one wish in the world, it would’ve always been to cure you. I knew the man I had in you, the REAL you. He was taken from me though and that’s the person I was at war with over the past few years. That’s the person I couldn’t stand to talk to. I never, ever wanted to fight with you Levi. It broke my heart each and every time. But I had to separate my mind. This was not Levi and I had absolutely no patience for whoever it was that crept up inside my husband and took his place. I’d feel instant anxiety and insecurity. You could trigger my panic button faster than anyone I’ve ever known and I had to leave that. I wish you knew that if I had a choice in the matter, I would’ve never wanted to go a night without sleeping by your side and making you feel loved each and every day. The addiction robbed both of us of that.
What kills me the most is that you died in bed that night unsure of that. You died alone. More alone than you even felt in prison. I’m sure of it. I hate that and it sickens me. God I wish I could’ve been there, even to hold your hand.
I’m saying all these things like I have to explain it, but I know you know. The only thing that brings me comfort is that I know you know how I felt. Though your addiction made you believe otherwise at times, when you were sober you would thank me and tell me you know exactly how much I loved you and that I did everything right by leaving. That you wish you could leave the addiction in your head too.
In that exact moment though, the addiction was lying to you. You were alone and it was making you feel more alone.
You died utterly and completely alone that night with the tortures of your own mind.
I fucking hate that and I wish more than anything I could save you from those final moments.
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