- Apr 4, 2018
I can’t always look at my diaries, as it’s all about me. How I felt, what he did today, me, me, me. Not once did I stop to think about how it was for him. How frightened and scared he was, well occasionally we talked about it, but then he would do something awful, and I would forget about him again. But now that I have the time to think, I do think about him. And that’s the difference, we have time, because if they were still here, we wouldn’t.Going on from yesterday, and just when I thought I was coming out of the woods, I cried bitterly this morning after seeing diary entries for early 2017 ( I tried to keep track right through to 2019) and all I could see was one row after another. Driving licence, wanting to move, you never talk to me, you do stuff and I do nothing.
And I’m once again plagued by the thought that I was at fault being selfish and self centred. Bridget never really thought much of herself. She was always there for others. So I think I neglected her when she wanted me the most. And the tragedy is that I can’t make amends.