Letter #56 My Fault
No words of wisdom today…I still believe everything in this letter.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Chloe,
It is Friday at 2:00 pm. My students are at super specials and I should be working, but I am having the hardest time concentrating. The anxiety is unbelievable. I took some medicine a little while ago so maybe that will help. I also called Mr. Deall and set-up an appointment for this afternoon. Chloe, I can’t shake it today, the tapping, the rubbing. Without even noticing it, I was tapping (hard) on my face with my fingernails. It would be hard to explain scratches on my face. So, anyway, I thought since I can’t seem to work effectively, I would write you. Talking to you sometimes calms me, if even just for a minute.
Chloe, I know it was my fault. It was ruled an accident, and no matter how many people tell me that it was just a tragic accident, I know I am to blame. God gave me the beautiful, wonderful little girl I always wanted, and I let you slip away. I should have moved the ladder into the pool. I even thought about it the day before and just forgot. I should have called Joseph to check on things. That would have kept him awake. I should have put a safety lock on the door and made sure the boys used it. There are so many things that I didn’t do that caused you to slip out of the house and into that pool. I am so sorry that I took your life from you. You had so much to live for and now it is all gone. I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself. Chloe, I didn’t even see you that morning to say good-bye. I saw you on the monitor, but was afraid to go in your room. I didn’t want to wake you. I could have seen you one last time, but I didn’t. I wanted to rush off to work. I didn’t want Joseph to have to get up yet. So I just looked at you on that little black and white monitor. I never would have guessed that would be the last time I would see you alive. The next time I saw you, you were in a hospital bed in a coma, full of tubes and wires, surrounded by beeping machines and nurses breathing for you. My life ended that day with you, Chloe. I am so tired of pretending to be okay. How can you ever be “ok” when you’ve lost your baby girl and you know it was your fault?
Kathy, Please know that although distance keeps us apart, you and the family are ever in my thoughts and prayers.
Thank you, Mr. Deall. We need all the prayers we can get! Thank you for all you have done for us as we have attempted to heal. I think of you often and ask myself almost daily, “What would Mr. Deall say?” You are truly missed!