Have I Done the Right Things?

EB died four years ago yesterday.  That just seems wrong.  How can it have been 4 years?  How can he really be dead?  How can only 4 years have gone by?  Why does it feel so long and so short?  Is it wrong to reach out to his family?  Will it hurt more or less to let them know someone else is thinking about him?  Did his mom spend her mother's day crying for him or holding her other kids and grand kids close?  Did anyone else remember?  Am I the only one left that carries the black band on my arm, am I the only one still grieving?  Did I make the right choices?  Have I done the right things?

I find days like this, after the sadness passes and the longing subsides, I find them full of questions.  The question that looms largest in my life is 'Would it be different?'
I find my mind drifting to this question each morning while I get ready for work or when I can't sleep.  I think about it when I have good memories and bad ones.  Would things be different for me if he was alive?  How different would they be?

The anniversary fills me with thoughts of him, the day after is full of thoughts of his influence.  It may be coincidence and it may be true but it seems to me that things started to go really wrong when he died.  TB and I were happily engaged and had gotten very excited about the pregnancy.  We were looking at wedding venues and trying to decide to put the money into a wedding or a house together.  Our parents were happy and our friends were excited.  He seemed happy for us and I was looking forward to that baby calling him Uncle E.  When he took his life I took all of the stress on my shoulders to shelter TB, I spent hours making phone calls to people I didn't know to let them know their friend had passed away.  I wrote stories and memories for his family to read in the eulogy and worked hard to comfort TB and those around me.  After he would fall asleep at night I would sneak on to the balcony and bawl for hours until the sun came up and then sneak back into bed.  I just couldn't believe he had done it.  Couldn't believe he was gone.  We coordinated friends at the services and held a small memorial at our apt for friends who didn't feel comfortable with his family and the church they picked for our severely atheist friend.  For weeks after I fielded calls from his friends who wanted answers, comfort or to take their own lives.  I took all of their stress on myself so I could shield them and protect them like I always try to do.  Later in the month I lost my baby.  There is no medical reason that I lost it, the best suggestion was too much stress.  Stress.  All that stress that I took on to myself, all of that hurt and pain that I hid and ignored, did that do it?  Did that kill my baby?  How could I choose not to take care of myself in such a bad situation?  How could I not protect my child?  How can I get rid of the guilt that still haunts me years later?

How do you know if you made the right decisions?  How will I ever trick myself into believing what happened wasn't my fault?

The stress from losing EB took my baby.
The stress from losing the baby almost took my marriage.
The stress from my marriage almost took me.

Where does it all end and how do you stop it?


I wonder if things would be different if he had never died all the time.  Would some other stress have caused my body to lose the baby?  Would my marriage be better?  Would my child have been born?  Have I done the right things?