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“regret is my prison.”
this was what a woman who lives a few houses down said to me after her sister passed away. she had been sick for a few years — cancer — and the woman said she felt haunted by the things she wished she had done. she should have insisted that she see a doctor sooner, she said. and stood her ground when her sister decided to forgo treatment because it made her sick. plus, she never believed that the herbs her sister said would shrink the growing tumour on her esophagus would work, and told her so.
still, she bought a bag of the stinky green bits every saturday morning from a stooped man who worked out of a wooden stand with wheels in toronto’s chinatown. when her sister visited, she would steep the dried leaves in their mother’s old blue teapot, leaving a mug full of the brown liquid beside the recliner where her sister liked to sit, always suggesting that she call her doctor — which would start an argument. when her sister became too ill to travel, and more obsessed with treating her disease with alternative remedies, the woman didn’t visit. she didn’t even call, she said, though she wanted to. then her sister’s neighbour phoned one day to say she had died alone.
there’s not much you can say to someone weighed down by regret
there’s not much you can say to someone weighed down by regret — especially the big kind — but you can listen and empathize. that extra piece of chocolate cake, a missed opportunity to say something brilliant in a meeting, those are things that can be laughed off, the superficial sting fading over time. it’s the other stuff — the last words never spoken, not trying hard enough with a true love, being too scared to do that thing that you always wanted to do — that can, well, take you down.
i am sure — i hope — that deep down, my neighbour knows that there was nothing she could have done to change the outcome. that, while she disagreed with how her sister decided to treat her disease, she had given her small gifts of support and love, like buying and serving the tea she wanted despite her opinions. perhaps she would know this someday, and forgive herself, but not now, because her grief is just too thick and intoxicating for her to see it just yet. she said that sometimes all she can think about is regret.