I was only 31 when my husband passed away. It was the most painful thing to experience as a human being after only being married a short while. He decided when to take his last breath, and because of that; regardless of his promises to grow old with me, no amount of happiness with his new bride could lessen the pain he had inside of him. I know all to well the feeling of loss now. To love someone so much and trust in them to never leave your side through better or worse, for richer or poor, but when the demons inside couldn’t quiet down- all promises made at the altar before God meant nothing. I couldn’t blame him. I couldn’t hate him for it. For he had carried this weight on his mind and heart way before he even met me. What pain he thought he was getting rid of, he left behind in all of us mourning him. If I had a fear of losing a significant other before…it has been greatly multiplied. It’s been 14 months since he passed away. It’s not like we separated or he asked to file for a divorce. We were in love and happy as can be. At least I was. We were inseparable and had so many dreams to achieve together. We were supposed to live a long happy life. Now he is gone. All that’s left are pieces of a heart that may never heal. And memories of the night he pulled the trigger and fell to the ground right in front of my eyes. All I hear when I sleep at night are my own screams and the way he gasped for air one last time. The regret of not telling him I love him one last time but running for help when there was nothing anyone could do for him instead. The nights of loneliness, emptiness and even when trying to move on… not being able to cope with the constant fear of someone leaving me in more than just a break up. Worried that they may die or take their own life and I won’t see the signs. Just like I didn’t see them with my husband. Scared to love. Scared to trust. Scared that maybe I’ll always live with the what ifs that will never be answered.