Regret.

Facebook is kind of like a philosophical dumping ground where quotes by famous thinkers and feelers go to be misinterpreted until they fade into irrelevance.  Not a lot of topics make this more clear than the one of regret.  It seems like someone is always talking about how life is too short to have regrets.... And while that's all great in theory, I think that we can learn a lot from our regrets.  I know I have.

When you lose someone you love, regret is kind of an instant reaction.  Your mind starts spiraling as you wonder about the last things you said, the last things you did, the last thoughts you had....  In the case of my grandmother, this is a particularly difficult subject.

My grandmother was the strongest human being I've ever met.  She may have been "past her prime" when I knew her, but I don't think anybody had bothered to mention that to her--probably because they were scared.  She grew up on a homestead, so growing up she was a bit of a tom-boy.  Her favorite toy was her BB gun, followed by a shotgun when she was old enough to upgrade.  She raised chickens and pigs and cows and goats, she planted and picked vegetables in the garden.  When she grew up, she became a nurse.  I think out of all of the things she saw and went through, that may have hardened her the most  She used to tell me stories about working in the neo-natal unit of a hospital early in her career.  She didn't get to work with the beautiful little cherubs who had all their fingers and toes; my grandma took care of premature babies, ones with birth defects and abnormalities. (I think it left a mark on her, because one of the only things I knew about her for a long time was that she wasn't entirely fond of children....)  My grandmother went on to get married to the man who would become my grandfather.  I don't know much about my grandfather, really, since he died when my father and uncle were children.  I know that he was received a Presidential Pardon from Nixon that allowed him to work at the Post Office, and I know that he was very fond of the booze.  I also know that, on occasion, he would get drunk and mean and abusive with my grandmother.  Being that she was a strong, independent, woman that didn't sit well with her...  She didn't believe in divorce, and she had a great deal of love for my grandfather, so instead of leaving him or going to counseling, she started hiding baseball bats in corners.  My grandfather would get drunk and go to hit her and my grandma would have a baseball bat in her arms, ready to come at him swinging.....

That story always makes me smile.  I mean, it's a horrible, unhealthy situation and abuse isn't a laughing matter, but it just shows the woman's tenacity.  She was fearless.  She was strong.  She was willing and able to defend herself and her family, regardless of what or who she was up against....  When I think about my grandma, that is what I like to think about.

I suppose it's because the realities of our relationship were kind of harsh and severe.  I don't want to make it sound like there wasn't love there, but the way my grandmother showed her love was difficult for a child to understand.  She could be cold and cruel, sharp and cutting.  I remember being very scared of her when I was a kid because she was incredibly hard on me.  She always seemed to favor my brother, and it showed.   I think a little girl may have just been out of her wheelhouse because she grew up in a rougher, tougher time and then raised a family of boys...  I suppose the reasons don't matter.  I never cared enough to look for them when I was younger, and now that I'm capable of understanding, I can only take guesses.....

What I'm trying to say is that the foundation for our relationship wasn't necessarily sturdy or solid.  There was more love in the relationship than I could ever understand, but there was always this distance between us.

That faded away quite a bit when I grew up and got married.  During that time, she also moved in with my Aunt and Uncle because she couldn't live on her own anymore (she was capable of mobility, but suffered from dizzy spells that would cause her to lose her balance, fall and bruise the entire length of her body.)  When they would go on dates or on day trips, they would call me and ask me to come sit with her for a few hours in case she needed anything.  I didn't dig the idea, but I did it.   I figured, "Hey, she probably had better things to do than baby sit me when I was a kid."  So I sucked it up.

Sometimes it was enjoyable, sometimes it wasn't.

Her health and mobility started to decline fairly rapidly after that.  I didn't see it at the time.  I mean, I noticed certain limitations but I didn't realize what they implied and how much alarm they should cause.  Suddenly it wasn't just sitting with her anymore....suddenly it was meal prep and planning, runs to the store, preparing her medications, taking her to doctors appointments, helping her shower, helping her change her adult diapers...  I did it.  Knowing my grandma, I figured that it was worse for her to have to ask for help than it was for me to have to help her.  I sat with her, I helped her, I hung out with her, but I didn't appreciate any of it....

I was always checking the clock--checking to see how much time was left on my sentence.  I was always rolling my eyes when she asked for a third cup of coffee or another piece of cake.

When my aunt and uncle called to have me check on my grandma the night I found her body, I didn't want to go.  I'd already changed into my pajamas, I'd taken my shoes and bra off.  I remember, very clearly, thinking to myself, "I don't want to deal with this," when I hung up the phone.  Then I sat on the couch and watched TV for a few minutes---not feeling any sense of urgency.  And that was the last thought I had about my grandmother in the present tense.....

I know those weren't the last minutes of her life; they were the last minutes of my perception of her life.  I know that, but it doesn't make anything easier.  It doesn't change anything.

I live with that regret every day--knowing that I was more concerned with having a lazy night in than with making sure my grandmother was taken care of and tucked in for the evening. It hurts me to know I was that selfish--that concerned about myself, that preoccupied with my own shit....  But it has taught me how valuable time is.

I may not have enjoyed every second spent taking care of my grandma or helping her, but I got to hear so many stories.  I got to learn so much about her and her life and her marriage and the way she saw the world.  I got to know her in a way that I doubt many get to know their grandparents.... And I cherish it.

The regret I feel for my actions--the way I thought about things, the way I was out for myself--has helped me see what wonderful gifts I received from my grandmother.  It's also taught me not to make the same mistakes with others....to cherish every second I get to spend with my loved ones and to be thankful that, out of all the people in the world, they asked for my help and my time....

So I don't hope for a life free of regrets because they are valuable.  If you're willing to take an honest look at yourself and make some changes in your life, regret can be the one of the most valuable emotions you feel because it'll light a fire inside of you.

And I think we all need that sometimes.