My Best Friend Died

My wife was my best friend. I hope she knew it. I think we discussed that I felt I could tell her things that I’d never share with my best friend and that my best friend was was really just my best friend that wasn’t her, but I don’t think I ever told her that she was my best friend.

Maybe I did, but if so, I didn’t tell her so regularly, and I wish I did. 

My non-wife best friend died several years ago, and I felt the loss, but I didn’t feel the same despair that I do now with the loss of my wife. I don’t think I can put my finger on all the reasons.

I would have sacrificed my own life for my wife. I would have killed another human being for my life, but she would have never asked me to do so. I would have helped her bury the bodies without hesitation. 

When we played games on opposite sides I’d never purposely let her win, but I never took pleasure when she lost. Wait, allow me to correct… Perhaps I would let her win sometimes, but only when it was just her playing against me. The point is that I took no pleasure in winning against her. I was much happier to see her win.

I started feeling her pains more deeply than my own after our first date. And when she felt pain I felt that I failed her by not being able to protect her from it. I feel guilt about my inabilities now, and don’t know how to deal with it. 

I’m no saint. I don’t consider myself to be a good person at all. But I loved my wife more than myself, and am having troubles convincing myself that I can go on without her.

Not only do I feel the loss, but I also feel guilt. I think I was a good husband in many ways, but a really bad one in others.

I did feel like I was her protector, so when she died of her cancer I felt that I let her down. My friends don’t think this. They feel that I went way above what other would have. They think that I did more than anybody else would, but I feel that I am a failure. I feel that I am a fraud, because I feel I made bad choices. I feel that if they knew my thoughts that they would hate me for my choices.

Karen was the best thing that ever happened to me. I laid in bed many nights before we were together, feeling despair. I hated myself, and I hated the world. When I met her I was desperate for anybody to think me worthwhile. And somehow she did, and not only that, but she was genuine. I’m not really sure how to describe this.

I don’t think I’ll ever have a friend like her again, and that makes me so sad I can’t express it. I have tears in my eyes just writing this. I’m sad for two reasons. One, that I let my friend down by not being able to protect her, and two, that I’ll never have a friend as close as we were again. I’m sad because I failed my friend, and because I’ve lost something that I can’t bet back.

I feel a pain so deep that I recognize that I’m damaged now. I’m not sure I can be repaired, and I’m not sure I want to be.