Regret. We all have it, regardless of what we tell ourselves or the World. None of us do the very best that we can every minute of each day. As humans, we are fallible. That is the very definition of human.
I have more than my fair share.
In the past month, I have been doing more thinking about this than normal. Since I lost my dad, it has made me more reflective on life. And, of course, being cooped up in the house due to the COVID-19 virus has added to my over-the-top contemplative temperament.
Add to all of this a re-connection with my niece, after not seeing her or talking to her for 9 years and, well, it's a regretful perfect storm.
I reached out to her on Saturday, after years of silence on both our parts. The reasons for the distance are too numerable to mention, but I chalk most of it up to my terribly fractured family. But I cannot attribute it all to that. I take responsibility for dropping the ball.
And so, yesterday when my niece and I chatted on the phone and regret came up, I told her that I completely and totally messed up. Because I did. And then I asked for her forgiveness. Thankfully, she granted it. I was so grateful that she didn't tell me it was okay, that I needn't feel that way. She simply listened, then gave me the healing balm that I needed to move on. If you know me well, you know that I despise being told how to feel. Even though she does not know me, she never once told me to not feel regret. Smart girl.
My niece was only 14 years old when her father, my brother, passed away. She NEEDED her family, all of us, to show up. I didn't. Years later, when my kids' father died, I prayed others would reach out to them, support them, comfort them. And they were quite a bit older than my niece when their father died. As I listened to her talk about the toll Scott's death took, I realized that I never once reached out to her after the funeral to see how she was. I never did for her what I wanted done for my own kids. Shame on me.
As we spoke about regret, I realized our family had more than enough to go around. And I told her that it was normal and okay to feel regret, but then to let it go and move on. I needed to hear this as well. But in the middle of the night when I awoke and re-played the conversation in my mind, I found it impossible to take my own advice. Of course, that's how it is.
My mind drifted to a child, 14 years old, finding out about the out-of-the-blue death of her dad, remembering her words of how she felt when she found out. I am 56 years old, a grown woman, and I remember how I felt a month ago upon finding out about my 89 year old father's death, even though it was expected. I was devastated.
And so last night I saw not so much sleep.
I wish I could say the regret begins and ends with the loss of a relationship with one of my two nieces, but it doesn't. It extends to my relationship with Scott, my brother, Eric, my parents, my first marriage, my kids. It goes on and on.
The good news is that, with a new day comes new perspective. And I have a bit of that today. Writing always helps. Mercy and grace do, too. And so while I try to extend that to others, I realize how desperately I need both.
So today, right now, I make a choice to forgive myself. And to try, one tiny step at a time, to move on.
Regret -- and Moving On
