Why Did She Have To Die?

 She loved without hesitation. That awful illness took her after a few years. Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis. I wouldn't sentence my worst enemy to that hell. And yet here we are. I sit quietly, memories burned from years of worrying about her. I kept worrying even after she died.

I know she is in a better place now. It doesn't dull the memories and pain of loss. Every once in a while, I'll reach back into my mind and remember an argument and think back. Did I hurt her? Should I feel guilty? Do I need to make amends now? How could I have been so horrible to Theresa? 

But I wasn't. This was guilt and the pain of loss and mourning. I learned with Theresa that respect is the highest form of love. Disrespect to her meant something ominous. I would have walked through miles of broken glass just to have a few moments of time with her again. Love is that precious. Not many people believe that in today's society.

Quite often after someone dies, people are forgotten and pushed aside. The merit of being loyal has been covered in layers of dust. Forgotten in time, by everyone except me. And although I have dropped pretty much everyone since she past away, it was for the better.

To be honest, I could think of a few dozen people I would have wanted dead besides Theresa. Myself included. That song was right. 

You don't know what you have until it's long gone.

-CHRIS