September 12, 2008 was the worst day of my life. Three days earlier my boyfriend of almost a year had an argument in the driveway on my way to work and those words were the last I ever spoke to him.

Derek was the most wonderful, soft spoken, quirky, devastatingly handsome, funny and humble person I'd ever met. We hit it off the night we'd met and were pretty much inseparable from that night on.

I always felt that there was something fragile about him. Like things just did not want to go his way. We joked weeks before his death that he had the worst luck in the world.

I will regret for as long as I live the argument in the driveway. I will regret that when I had the gut feeling to go talk to him a day later that I didn't.

He didn't leave a note..and I know that alcohol played a huge part in his death. But how do you not blame yourself when you know you were the last person he spoke to? When I close my eyes at night I still see the look on his face as I drove away that morning.

I'll spend the rest of my life searching for someone exactly like him..but no one will be. It's been a year and I don't think the sadness ever gets any less.

I wish that he could have known that it would have gotten better. Sucide is such a final solution to temporary problems. But I think people who suffer from such deep depression can't see past the present. Most people who knew Derek didn't think he was depressed. It was hard for me to see and I was with him everyday.

I know now that I will never walk away angry. I will never allow my last words to someone I love be in anger. Sometimes you don't get the chance to take it back.