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Regret
by L.H.
I was raised to be independent and driven, much like my mother. She has never made me feel I cannot do anything. She encouraged me to forge my own path and follow my dreams, to want more and be more. I was a 30 year-old kid who went to high school and hit adolescence during college. I was not perfect; I am still not. I made mistakes that helped me grow up but I did not regret them; they were necessary lessons I had to learn the hard way. Now, when I am just starting to get comfortable being an adult, it took me a song and someone else's regret to recognize my own. Maybe I was in denial (as I am prone to be), an irony for a journalist who works for a living out of truth to lie about her own feelings. Regret was never in my vocabulary nor had I dwelled on if only and what ifs, not until my mother, who is the bravest and strongest person I know, admitted to her own.
My mother and Luke have danced around each other for almost two decades. From their flirting disguised as banters, to their romance with others and with each other, to their break-ups and make-ups and finally, with their marriage three years ago, I have witnessed them all. I knew then as I do now that although my dad is my mother's first love, my stepfather Luke is the love of her life. My mother knew it too but she was the original denial queen. And when she finally admitted it to herself, I knew she had the happiest three years of her life. Had because Luke passed away this spring after battling it out with lung cancer. Another of life's ironies as he was the one who always ate healthy and never smoked a stick in his life.
Time is my mother's regret. Time she could have had with Luke. Time she let pass thinking she had more. Time she could never have again. And so pondering about this one day while I was driving back from my hometown while listening to my stereo, I have come to terms with my own regret.
Like my mother, I have my Luke. He was not special the first time I met him but when I got to know the man behind the name, I was hooked. He was impulsively daring, annoyingly smart and charming to a fault. He can debate with you until you turn blue and convince you to jump and live in the moment. He was beautiful even with his flaws. I changed him and he changed me. He had never been in love before me and although I cannot say the same, I know I have never been in love the way I loved him. We had the best three years of my life, even with its extreme highs and lows. Had because I lost him a little over five years ago.
Words are my regret. Again, this is ironic because I am very familiar with words and what they can do. But not all words are good, sometimes they can hurt too even if not said rashly, even if your reason is valid, even if with the best intentions. Sometimes you don't even have to use words to obtain the same effect. Words said and unsaid are my regret. When I killed his dreams and betrayed his heart, with one word: No.
I thought my dreams were too important to postpone. I thought he could wait. But I was wrong and he could not. He wanted to give me all but I wanted to work for it myself. It took me 5 years to realize that although my dreams were important, they were not as fulfilling. My life though busy and littered with things to do, seemed empty. I thought I could move on and have moved on but I have been stuck to that day I broke his heart while he broke mine. And if I could rewind five years to the day he walked away from me, I wish I could have said another word: Stay.
I thought regret would taste bitter but I guess I never could with him. My regret is a blend of sweet and salty. It holds its own, not even my cup of coffee or his favorite scotch could fix. Wherever he is, I hope he is doing well. I hope he is happy. I hope he has new dreams. I hope he has learned to love again. He may not love me now, in fact he may not want to see me, hear from me, speak to me, much less forgive me, but I never want to have to regret again. So this is me letting you know with four words: I love you still.