Hello again dearest,
I had talk to you one last time, for all the years we shared don’t seem enough now. You were so cruelly pulled away from me at the time when we were happiest.
For those first weeks, I shut down in complete denial. You weren’t gone, you couldn’t be. But I had to shake it off and be strong, for the daughter you were so excited for yet never got to see, nor to hold. I’ll tell her about you someday.
It’s been 3 months now since they told me you weren’t going to make it until our baby girl arrived. I remember our last kiss and our goodbyes. Truth be told, they weren’t ‘romantic’, leaning through the wires of hospital machines, after they wheeled my bed to yours, and with all our tears flowing. But it didn’t matter.
I can’t believe you slipped away just minutes after I left you and my labour started. It hurts so much that she was born only three hours after you died.
But what hurts most is sitting here, writing to you and knowing it was all my fault. If you hadn’t been rushing in the dark that morning to get me to the hospital for my appointment, your car wouldn’t have crashed. I suppose I said all that in the ambulance that picked us up at the crash scene. You said it didn’t matter, but it does. I almost wish the baby and I had died too, so we could be a happy family, together in Heaven.
But we’ll just have to carry on, her and me, me and her. Watch over her, sweetie.
I love you, always.