Regret

This was originally a comment in response to my former roommate/best friend Jennifer's blog post entitled Sour Cherries, but it got really long. I decided instead of hijacking her blog, I'd actually use my own, for once! My response may have wandered into something else by the end, but so what? It's my blog, I'll do what I want. :-P

I was responding to her question, "How do you deal with regret?"

I have the urge to make a Jew joke about feeling regret, but I'm not sure if that's really a stereotype about my people or if I just automatically assume all negative emotions are associated with my religion/culture/genes/whatever.

Regret is a strange emotion. It's this weird mixture of sadness, disappointment, sometimes anger, with a few other random ingredients mixed in. It comes in all sizes and shapes, works in all sorts of situations. There are small regrets that pass quickly, like regretting that giant piece of cake you had for dessert. There are regrets that are slightly dulled, things that won't bother you years later because they simply don't matter anymore, like wearing a stupid outfit or getting a bad haircut. There are regrets over not doing something and regrets over taking a risk that went wrong. Honestly, I'm not sure which is worse.

Then there's the kind of regret that's hard to get away from and sometimes stays with you forever. I know I have plenty of regrets when I think about my grandparents who've passed away. I regret not spending more time with my grandfather when he was sick and the fact that I sometimes resented having to go visit him (I was 17, it's practically required to resent most things at that age). I regret not learning more about his childhood and his family, not getting to know him as an adult instead of as a little girl. I regret the times I acted like an absolute brat in front of him while growing up.

I regret the fact that my grandmother spent the last years of her life in a nursing home, a place I found terrifying - and I wasn't even the one losing my memories and proper use of my body.

There's not much that can make regrets like that go away. My grandparents are gone and as time travel is a risky (and impossible) business, I have no way to go back and fix things.

The one thing that has ever made me feel even the slightest bit better about these regrets is this realization: My grandpa and grandma probably wouldn't hold these things against me. I once asked my parents if they thought my grandfather saw me as a brat, and though they may be biased and simply wanting to make me feel better, their response was a quick and decisive, "Absolutely not, he adored you." I believe them.

If you're very, very lucky, you have people who love you so much that even when you disappoint them or let them down, their feelings for you don't change or go away. I still remember the last thing my grandfather telling me in a small moment of clarity shortly before he died was that he'd always have time to tell me he loved me. There was not anger over small indiscretions, just love. When my grandmother could no longer remember my name or how exactly I was related to her, she still recognized me as someone she cared for and who cared for her in return, not as some terrible guard keeping her in a terrible place. When you look at the big picture, if you're lucky and you work hard at it, maybe regret winds up being a very small part of life, and is squashed down and hidden by all the good parts and the happy memories.

At least, I hope that's how it works.