Never knowing what could have been- Aaron Lewis

I can take the rain on the roof of this empty house
That don’t bother me
I can take a few tears now and then and just let them out
I’m not afraid to cry every once in a while
Even though going on with you gone still upsets me
There are days every now and again I pretend I’m ok
But that’s not what gets me

What hurts the most
Was being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was tryin’ to do

It’s hard to deal with the pain of losing you everywhere I go
But I’m doin’ It
It’s hard to force that smile when I see our old friends and I’m alone
Still Harder
Getting up, getting dressed, livin’ with this regret
But I know if I could do it over
I would trade give away all the words that I saved in my heart
That I left unspoken

What hurts the most
Is being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do

What hurts the most
Is being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was trying to do

Not seeing that loving you
That’s what I was trying to do

This is a Rascal Flatts song, but Aaron Lewis just gets to me when he sings it. This song is about regret, wishing, love and hurt. I regret the things I may have not told Wes. How much I love him, how happy he made me, how great of a father he was, and the list could go on and on. I'm pretty sure he knows all these things, but I still wish I could tell him. I regret that night before that when he told me he couldn't breathe we went home. We had just had platter service at Sartin's and we thought he just over ate. I told him, "of course you can't breathe, you just ate the entire Gulf, unbutton your pants." If only I would have known, we could have gone to the hospital and he still could be here. I have shared that with a few people, and each one tells me not to think like that. I can't help it though. Things could have been done to prevent his death. I felt so helpless that morning watching him struggle to breathe. I remember when the EMT started CPR in the driveway, falling to my knees and screaming for God to help him. Maybe that is why I am having such a hard time with my faith. I screamed and begged for him to breathe, for him to live, and he was still taken from us. It's not fair, and I know that no one ever said life was fair, but why did it have to happen to us? I loved Wes so much it hurt, and I waited patiently for so long to find him. He was my other half, and with him in my life everything felt complete. He had been through so much in his life and never gave up, he deserved to live and enjoy his life. Trent deserved to have his daddy around. I know every parent is biased, but I really do have an amazing kid. He is so sweet, genuine, kind hearted, and thoughtful. He did not deserve to loose his daddy. My family loved Wes so much, and sometimes I felt they liked him more than me. They deserved more time to get to know him. Wes' family is so amazing. Such a tight knit group of people. They had been through the hard times with Wes and deserved some happy, peaceful time with him. All the trials and tribulations he lived through, and still his life was cut short. I still question everyday why this happened. I know I will never find an answer that satisfies me, nothing will ever replace Wes.

I often wonder what our lives would be like now if Wes was still here. We would probably still be in Sour Lake. I would probably have a baby or at least be pregnant. We would have probably gotten in a hundred arguments, but heard more "I'm sorry, I love you's". Trent would still have his daddy. Things would probably be a lot different. It's that not knowing that gets to me, the dream of what our family could have been. This was not suppose to happen to us, so what do we do now? I get up every morning, no matter how hard it is. I go to work, try and be a good mom, try and maintain good relationships with family and friends, but I feel like I've been programmed. I try and go on and live, but there is always a part of me hurting, a part of me missing him, a part of me missing. I want to feel whole again. I know it will take time, but I will always be different. My current class I am taking for my masters is Human Growth and Development. The chapters we covered this week was about loss. (I should make some pretty good grades this week.) An interesting thing I read in my text was that when losing a spouse it takes 5 years to get back a little normalcy and happiness, but the level of happiness never reaches what is what before. The graph they showed went up to only half the amount of happiness after widowhood. I really hope that that information is wrong, but I can understand how someone would come up with that info. Loss changes you. It brands you, it leaves its mark. All you can do is to try not to let it define you. If my name were to be defined I would not want my definition to be widow. This is how I want my definition to look.

Stella: (noun) one who flourishes under fire.
  synonyms: mother, daughter, sister, aunt, friend, teacher

Defining my life,
Stella

Taken 9/26/2011...2 days before he left.