Letter #56 My Fault
No words of wisdom today…I still believe everything in this letter.
Friday, January 21, 2011
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?