I feel I must share my story in detail now. I even wrote my husbands mother a letter after the funeral expressing my guilt because I couldn't tell her face to face, I was so ashamed. My husband and I married when we were both 19, I believed he was my soulmate (still do), but after he finished a certain training in the Navy, he began to change. My sweet, charming, selfless husband started to be mean, authoritative and self-centered. Regardless of these changes I stuck by him for 16 years. During the last 8 years of our marriage and right before the birth of our son he began to drink pretty heavy. At first it was occasionally, then it began to consume him. The last 2 years we were together it was the worst. I left him once for almost 6 monthe to give him time to hopefully change and he said he did. So we got back together and started over. But the drinking began to resurface and the staying out all night and the lies began. The nights I knew he was drinking became a routine: First he would stop answereing his cell phone after a certain time, then it would be midnight or later before he came home. Some nights he wouldn't come home at all. I remember telling him on many occaisions that he was going to lose his life and make me a widow, or worse he was going to hurt someone else. He told me he would stop driving in that condition (after2 DWI'S). He used to leave me and the kids home with no working vehicle. He drove mine to work as his truck was having a problem overheating. One night, 2 weeks before his death he went out drinking and stayed gone for 2 days. I was upset one night and decided to drive his truck to go visit his mom. We talked and she agreed it was getting too bad and if the kids and I needed help leaving she would give me money. As I was leaving her house the truck overheated and I think I messed it up driving it that way home. I never told my husband that I drove the truck so hot...so 2 nights before he died he went out again and when he came home drunk at midnight I started to pack. The next morning, I had my things and the kids in the car ready to go live with my mom. I remember my son telling me he wanted to stay with his dad. I told him no, his dad couldn't even take care of himself. My husband and I fought horribly that morning and as I was leaving I told him I didn't love him and never even said goodbye. He kissed the kids and I left. I drove 600 miles that day and when I got to my mom's house that night I felt so bad and angry. My son didn't speak to me in the car for the first 300 miles. I remember him telling me that he wanted 2 parents in his family. I went to sleep that night thinking I should just call my husband and work this out or maybe he will call me and ask me to come home. The next morning I got up and went to look for a job. My mom stayed with the kids, when I got back to her house she left and went to meet a friend for coffee. The phone rang as she was walking out the door and I told her I would get it, it was my sister in law. I answered the phone and she said she had bad news. She asked me if I was sitting down and I told her I was. The next few minutes are still somewhat of a blur....she told me he had been in an accident and that he was gone. I remember asking her "Well if he's gone, where did he go? Why can't they find him?" She said no, he's dead. I did a lot of screaming after that and not sure what else. After a lot of calls from family that morning I was on a planr that afternoon to come home to make arrangements. When I got here and was told more details, I learned that the night I left he asked his stepdad to borrow his truck because his wasn't working. I believe this wouldn't have happened if I hadn't let his truck overheat. The guilt was overwhelming. Over the next few weeks from the accident report and finally the autopsy report I learned he had been drinking, his blood alcohol was 3 times the legal limit. Everyone has told me it wasn't my fault, that it would have happened no matter what he had been driving but the questions are still there and haunt me everyday. What could I have done different? Why couldn't I save him? Why wasn't my love enough? Why didn't I tell him I loved him and goodbye? I will be haunted by our last conversation for the rest of my life. And the guilt.