At Tutquoise Lodge Hospital, I spoke for one solid hour about Clare, and how she told me she was an alcoholic, and she said she never told anyone this, and with me she didn’t want to drink and not with me because she slept in my arms naturally without vodka.
My friend told me this, holding my hand in hers, and she told me:
“Steve, she was dead the day you met her. You gave her seven months of happiness. It wasn’t your fault. Not one bit. Let yourself feel relief and let your guilt go. She would have to be sober for one year just to be on a transplant list. That damage happens in more than one month more than seven months. It takes years. She was loved by you. Steve, you gave her extra life. You are noble, kind, and amazing. She was loved by you.”
I cried for an hour. Bawled. Uncontroably. And I feel relief. And I miss Clare. And I can move forward. It’s not my guilt and I won”t accept it.
Water cannot be wetter, and I’m a firm believer in evaporation.
Clare Clarissa Nina Castellano is loved and lived longer with me that rocks.