Maybe I am

 He was not the start of the nightmare, not the cause of it. The nightmare happened 5 months before he came along. Brutal, swift, ripping out family to pieces.

He was there to catch them.

Or was he?

But he is part of the nightmare now, part of the pain, part of the reason I am not ok.

He brought so much joy to my life - travel, laughter, cozy nights, warm hands holding my shaky ones. He guided me through fire. He was protective and passionate, fiery and strong and I loved him so much. I may have held on forever.

But he also brought me immeasurable pain. Something I should have realized from the start.  

It was November when he told me he didn't want to be an "also ran".  I had only buried my husband - his friend, six weeks earlier.

He pushed and shoved his way into our lives - even when I said I should not do anything too rash for a least a couple of years - within two months he was basically living in our house.

He didn't realize what grief feels like and how it sways through moments of life. He took it all personally.

He held me responsible for things others did or didn't do. If my kids didn't acknowledge him the way he'd hoped, I got the cold shoulder. If N stopped by after work, I got sighs. If the little didn't clean up by the couch there was no goodnight kiss for me. Everything was cold when he was unhappy. And he was unhappy a lot. 

I'm sure I was not easy for him to love. I was easily distracted trying to figure out a new life, new jobs, new trauma for my kids,  a new love and how it would all come together without hurting anyone. Now everyone is hurt. I guess I failed.

He left. Took off without words, without goodbyes.  I was never sure what I had done to deserve it, but I was sure it was something. It has left me feeling broken, unlovable and disposable.

Maybe I am.