I’ve heard it said that most regrets are about what hasn’t been done, not what has been. In a recent article in which women wrote letters to their younger selves, one said “Have that affair” (among other things), implying that it’s best to do whatever one wants, regardless of others wants or needs.
I think that it’s more complicated than that and my regrets are all about people I’ve hurt, and when I haven’t been there for someone. To put this in perspective, I have lived. I have studied, partied, traveled, dined, roughed it, become a wife, step-mom, mother of twins, I’ve done a lot (not that my bucket list is all crossed off but…).
I have little regrets that pop up here and there. I don’t obsess about them but I do occasionally think about people I’ve hurt, from about grade five on up. Yup, I remember little things I did in elementary school that were mean or indifferent. Like not standing up for a friend when she was being bullied. Believing stories about someone because the popular kids said it was true. On a few occasions, getting involved with teasing and intimidating. NOT NICE. I did not do this a lot, I was mostly kind, but I wanted to be liked and sometimes went along with some a#*holes to be accepted.
I only have one significant regret and that is that I was not with Madeleine when she died. I spent a couple of nights at the hospital, holding her hand all night or taking turns, but I wasn’t there that night, nobody was. I asked the doctor before I left and she said she didn’t think it would be that night…but that’s no excuse. We were there all day, day after day, with her, and looking after her kids, but that’s no excuse either.
I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE. PERIOD.
And it haunts me.
Oh Jen
It’s funny (I mean not funny…but you know what I mean) when I saw that you had commented I was curious to read what you wrote since so many of our experiences with our moms were so similar. It’s interesting – and I’m saying this Erin just to show you that each experience is so personal…and that there is just no way to know what would have been best for you. I was with my mom as well when she died. Our whole family was. For me it has altered my life ‘positively’. While the time leading up to it was not peaceful, the actual moment was so peaceful that I’m not afraid of dying anymore. Now watching other family’s members reactions at the same instance, I know one in particular felt more like Jen. So even in the same moment – one of us found peace and one of us has never been the same again. You’ll figure it out Erin.
Wow Jen,
I hadn’t really thought about what it would be like to watch her die. I had a hard enough time going in afterward, maybe I wouldn’t have been able to handle it.
I’m sure it is partly about me, but also, I guess I imagine I wouldn’t want to be alone so I project that onto her. I’ll never know if she was afraid (Britta’s story about their conversation is comforting).
I don’t think about his every day, but it does come up a lot. I’m in major self-reflection and analysis mode now, trying to get myself into a better place psychologically so I am going to try to let this go, I just have to figure out how.
I have written and re-written my response to this a dozen times. On one hand, I am so glad I was there when my mom passed away but probably not for the reasons you would expect. I was glad I was there because I wouldn’t have wanted my sister to have gone through it alone. That moment. I can’t and won’t explain what it was like. To be honest, the moment of her death haunts me. I close my eyes and I see it. I dream about it. I go over and over it in my head. I really wish I could wipe it out of my mind forever. But the images won’t go away. It was the most devastating thing I have ever experienced. The one comfort is that when I think about it I know, at least, she knows too. And neither of us had to go through it alone.
Strangely, although I am glad we were there “for her” so we don’t have to fight the demon of not knowing I think that is much more about me than her. I agree with everyone, let it go if you can. There would be regrets no matter what. Losing a loved one is beyond heartbreaking.
Thanks to all of you for your support. I wrote replies to all of you but my comment didn’t post here and now it’s late and I’m tired. So this is just a general thanks. I really appreciate all of your words of comfort.
Oh, I agree with Sara – we all die alone, and I believe it is an intensely personal thing. And indeed, you cannot change any part of the story now.
You cannot blame yourself. Your loved one would never want you to be plagued this way… do yourself a favour and let yourself off the hook. Really. Think about other ways to be of use or service, if that’s what you’d like. Grow. It’s all good, lady.
Thanks for sharing!
I would say that dying is the ultimate personal act, and that no matter who is with us at that time, we do it alone.
The support for us and for those that we love and care about by those that we love and care about, is of vital importance when we are alive, and during the dying days, but at that moment when it all ends nobody can be with us.
Maddy absolutely knew that you were there for her, and for her kids.
I would surmise that she chose that moment to die alone, to ease the transition for her family. If she knew that it was causing you grief I believe she would be sad.
You were there for her in a million different ways, and she knew that and loved you. You do not have to feel sad for her that you were not there at that time, and you have absolutely no reason to blame yourself.
Bless you for your caring!
Erin,
You and your entire family were incredible pillars of strength during Madeleine’s illness. I often relfect on my last visit with her in the hospital, a few days before she died. I was so amazed at her sense of peace and asked how she was handling this with such grace. Her reply, “I have no regrets”. She said she knew that she was a good mom and that her kids knew that she would love them always. She knew your dad and mom and you loved her and were loved back. Everything was peaceful. I hear her words often and take strength from them. I hope you can take some comfort in them.
XO Britta
Let me tell you about how my father died…
At age 57 he was diagnosed in April of 2008 with Lymphoma. In July he was given a year to live, but the disease progressed very rapidly. He walked my sister down the aisle on Aug 31 and then declined very quickly after that (I think he felt his job was done.) I received a phone call on the morning of Sept 26 that dad wasn’t doing well, so I got in my van and drove from Edmonton to Calgary to see him. I arrived at 1pm at my dad’s house and my sisters and mom were there with him. A palliative care nurse was there as well, and she explained that he had no platelets and was bleeding internally and would pass sometime that weekend. As my sisters ran around making plans, I sat with my dad and held his hand. He was conscious but not totally there, I could see every breath was a struggle and his limbs were getting dark as the blood stayed with his major organs. In a moment of clarity he looked out the large picture window in his living room and then to me and said “what a beautiful day” – and it was; 20 degrees, blue sky, the leaves orange and yellow on the trees. It was gorgeous.
We kept telling my dad to hold on, because his oldest son was on a plane from New York City that would arrive in a couple hours. My younger brother and sister were on their way over as well. All 7 of us planned to gather around our family’s anchor as he left the world. My mom had left 30 min prior to pick up medication at the pharmacy and a few minutes after my dad said that I went to the dining room to see what my sisters were discussing with the nurse. I was in the dining room for just a couple minutes and then returned to my dad’s side. He was gone. I called the nurse and she confirmed it, expressing her surprise at how quickly he’d gone. It was 3pm, 2 hours after I had arrived. He chose the single moment of the past few days when he had been alone to go.
I felt so peaceful about that, and here is why…I know he chose that time to go, and by choosing to be alone it tells me that he was not scared – he was okay. I would hate to think that he would have likely suffered for another day or two as we all gathered around him. For a few days afterwards I was mad that I had left the room, but soon I was glad.
If I had to guess, I would say that Madeleine was not scared either, she wanted to spare her family the pain of seeing her go, and she also knew that her family would keep her alive in spirit and care for her children. I hope that you will stop being haunted, and that eventually this regret will no longer be.
Oh Erin….except for your regret, I could have written that post. As for your regret, there is no use in telling you not to harbour it anymore…because you will. But MAYBE (oh and I see Kath just said the same thing) she wanted it that way. I truly believe they go when they want. My granny who I had spent 10 years looking after, went alone as well….but likely not alone. She went with her thoughts and memories of the past – and went without me having to hold another generation of womens hands as they died (as I did with my mom). I’m actually in the midst of writing a similar blog so I get GET the regret…but I’ve let mine go finally and its freeing…you were there with her, right in her heart.
I completely agree with Kath and have said it to my patients families many times. I have seen it in the strangest moments that can’t just be coincidence and yet with all of this experience I am still angry at myself for not being there with my Mom. I flew back to the UK a week before, knowing I would not be there when she died, having to make the decision for my daughter and family. And yet I still manage to cry myself to sleep some nights regretting that decision. I think sometimes with regrets like these they just have to become part of who you and how you live. We can’t change them, we just have to move forward.
Erin, you can’t let that haunt you. First of all, because you can’t change it. Also: when Mom died, the nurses told us that people often somehow seem able to choose (to a degree) when they die…like people are more likely to die right after a birthday, anniversary or holiday.
So maybe Madeleine wanted to spare you guys at some level? Remember the same thing happened with Grandma, and I know my Mom felt bad about it for ages — she was there, every day at lunchtime, except the day Grandma died. I always thought that maybe on some level Grandma knew that, and just felt free enough to let go when nobody was around. The point is, nobody will ever know the truth of it, and you can’t go back and change it. All you can do now is change how you think about it.
It’s hard…survivors have the rest of their lives to look back and question everything.