Guilt.

“Guilt is perhaps the most painful companion of death.” CoCo Chanel

Sadness, anger, guilt. I feel these 3 things on a daily basis. Some days I feel more sad than angry, some days more angry than sad. All days I feel the same level of guilt.

I feel guilty because sometimes I laugh and smile and feel completely happy. Sometimes I think, "wow, my life is perfect." Then I immediately feel guilty because how can I feel those things when they aren't here. How can I be happy without them?

After my dad passed away, I would have given anything to see my mom smile, to hear her laugh, for her to be happy again. And now, here I am without the both of them and I feel guilty for smiling, for laughing, for being happy.

I feel guilty because I can't remember the last time I said "I love you" to my dad. I always said it when I left him, but I don't remember it.

I feel guilty because I couldn't save them. Trust me, I know that I am not a doctor, not even close. What I mean by that is that my parents have never been the most healthy people. My dad had his first of 4 heart attacks when he was only 45. My mom was an insulin dependent diabetic. I feel guilty because I should have tried harder to get them to take better care of themselves. I was the only daughter, I lived with them the longest of their children. I should have tried harder. I should have been able to make a difference.

Most of my guilt lies with my mother. I have never said this out loud, I have never written it down, but I have thought it nearly every day since January 24, 2011. I feel guilty because I feel as though gave up on her. I mind knows that the decision we made that day was the right one for her, the logical one. My heart screams at me, screams that maybe with more time, she would have woken up. Science sides with my mind. Now, I have always been a girl who believes "Que Sera Sera," "whatever will be, will be" and in my heart that day I hoped and prayed that she would just wake up. I begged her to. I begged her not to make me say goodbye. I prayed that the doctors were wrong. I feel like I gave up on her, and for that I feel guilty.

Since that day I have worried that her family, her sisters and brother, her mom, her friends, blame us. I have been afraid that they think we made the wrong choice. I pray that they don't. But that fear is there.

The nightmares don't help. I did my mom's hair and makeup for the funeral. I didn't really want to, but I felt like I had to, for me, and for her. It wasn't the first time I had done this, I also did my great grandmother's hair for her funeral and I cut my daddy's hair for his. But doing my mom's was the hardest one. I wanted to get it right, make it perfect. I have never had nightmares about my maw or dad, but I do about my mom. It's usually the same, her waking up and yelling at me because her lipstick is the wrong color, those times I usually wake up smiling, because my mom rarely wore makeup, but loved her lipstick. Other times I wake up in tears, because she opens her eyes and asks me "why?"

Now, the logical me, the part of me who can reason, knows that we did the right thing, knows that my mom was no longer there. And all of me knows without a doubt that my mom is where she wants to be. I know that she would not have wanted to be in a coma, kept alive by machines when she could be with her love in a more beautiful place than we see on earth.

But the guilt is still there. And the thing about guilt is that it eats away at you, breaks you down. I do not know how to get passed it. People say that the sadness, the hurt gets easier. But will the guilt? Will it go away?