There’s a book on baba’s desk: top 5 regrets of the dying. haven’t finished the book yet, but I know what it is about. and i think that resonates with me a lot. I was lying on my bed and thinking, If I am to die tomorrow, or this week, or next week, or next month, what will be my regret?
I regret not expressing clearly how much I love my parents. I tell my husband how much I love them, but for reasons beyond me I can’t describe when I am with them.
I regret living my life inside my mind more than in my surrounding. I conjure perfect holidays, perfect road trips, perfect parties. But when I transpire to realise them, I see what I wanted to materialise has become so different that I end up despising what I started.
I regret persevering for a career so much. What is life if I don’t familiarise myself with each and every room of the house I live? and likewise what is life if I don’t see all the corners of this world? the universe is beyond my reach, I shall never travel to the moon. But why should I not travel to Tonga, or Greenland, or the arctic circle? the land down under?
I regret not taking a break year to spend all my savings on travelling.
I regret not being capable enough to hold onto people. I miss Sara-Saima so much. yet this whole year I never took initiative to make a zoom call with the three of us. I regret not understanding why I seem to tomorrow lose touch with poeple I am today close to. This is a pattern that flows throughout my life.
I regret being afraid to tell a friend how brutally she hurt me, the bride, on the eve of my Nikah as she charged me that I should have entertained her sibling better. I regret breeding that pain inside of me, never telling her that I couldn;t sleep the night before my Nikah because of those harsh words.
I regret not being someone strong who is not an enabler to others only, but wo us strong enough to show when the time comes, just like the movies.
I regret seeing my extended family grow apart, cousins move away, innocence get frail.
I regret not getting a visa to fly down to saskatoon while there was time. I regret not saying a proper goodbye. but then maybe, I never wanted to say goodbye to her.
Back in 2000, in Grade 6, baba wrote for me an essay, which he ended with something to this effect: live life in a way that at the time of death you may not lament that alas, I spent my life in vain!
I regret fearing that I might be close to doing exactly what my father cautioned me against two decades ago…