It seems so silly for me to be doing this now, writing to you as if you are still here. I’m trying so hard to forgive myself for not being there to help you that night. I was given so many signs that something was going to happen, and I ignored every single one.
Mom and Dad shouldn’t have come to see me that weekend for Jake’s birthday. They should have stayed to be there at the hospital with you after your surgery. Actually, I should have come to the hospital, too. I know I would have seen the signs and insisted that you stay and not go home. I didn’t think the hospital would send you home if you weren’t ready.
When you got home and called me to tell me about the pain you were in, I thought it was just a normal sequence of events, being that you just had surgery. You said you felt weak, and I thought it was because you hadn’t eaten anything in a few days, and possibly a side effect of the pain medications they had you on. I’ll never be able to forget your words to me, asking me if it was okay that this was happening.
That night, I had a dream that I was at a funeral. I was crying; tears were streaming down my face and I couldn’t stop. Lisa, I should have listened. I know now that it was the last sign the angels would give me before you died.
I was supposed to protect you. You called me that night to save you and I didn’t.
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