Guilt and the Should Haves

I didn't kiss Mickey enough. I didn't hug him enough. I can still hear him saying "You used to think I was funny" or "You used to think my jokes were funny." I didn't hug him enough. I didn't cuddle with him enough. I didn't tell him how much I loved him and appreciated him enough. I know we had some hard times and hard things to deal with, but I wish I had been more loving to him. Now that chance is gone. I have a hard time thinking about ever telling anyone else and doing these things for anyone else because Mickey deserved them more and first. He was a soldier, a wounded veteran, the father of my kids, my best friend, my first love, my life. He deserved everything. I wish I had given him everything. I wish just for one chance to talk to him and tell him how much I love him and for the chance to hear from him that he knows that and he was happy. I don't know why God has not allowed me the "dream". That is all I really want right now. Why not? Though my last act of support and love for him was a fatal one, I know he really appreciated the fact that I agreed to let him have the motorcycle. He was so excited and so happy to be getting it. It was going to be a great, fun and freeing thing for him. I guess it was. I don't even remember what we did the night before the accident. I am sure we watched TV together and then went to bed. In the morning he said good bye to me and he kissed me, I kissed him and Owen probably had to have his turn too. That was a game we played. He called me right before the accident, on his way back to Benzonia, to tell me that he was on his way to get the bike and he'd see me soon. I wasn't home, I was at the lake so he left a message. I deleted not knowing that would be the last message I ever received from him. At least I have video tapes of him so I can hear his voice when it starts to fade. I have good memories of him, but he died way too soon. I didn't want a life with anyone else. I only wanted a life with him. We were supposed to grow old together and sit with eachother on a porch swing and watch sunsets. I don't want to be alone, but neither do I want anyone else but Mickey. I don't want to give anyone the things that I should have given Mickey more of. I don't know if I can until I can feel like he knows that I loved him more than words can say and that he knows that I did think he was funny, and I did appreciate him a ton, and that he was my best friend, and that I enjoyed all of our time together, and that I will always love him. I just want to know that. I want to know that I did okay by him, that I never meant to cause him grief, that I wanted nothing more than to give him pure joy but didn't know how to do it sometimes. I just want his reassurance. I just want him.