I used to sit in my principal’s office (I should clarify…I was the principal, not the invitee) and occasionally have conversations with wayward children. Often, the conversation would turn toward their actions and my supposition that they would regret those actions later, especially if I exacted the punishment I was considering. More than one child, puffed up in the arrogance that is only found in people who have not yet hit that threshold of disappointment that triggers regret, would tell me they didn’t have any regrets and I could “do what I had to do.” I did.
I suppose some of them eventually did hit their disappointment limit and did, in fact, have to deal with regret over their actions. I have had some of them tell me as much, usually in the dog food aisle at Walmart, 10 or 20 years after I last saw them. Good for them. I, too, have learned to deal with my own regrets; goodness knows I have a few. None of them is as pronounced as the regret I feel when friends, people I hold dear, slip away from me without me having the opportunity to tell them how much they mean to me or to spend just a few more moments with them.
Of course, this is the monster that never stops eating. When we love others, we always want more of them. Love, I think, should be defined by the pain we feel when we are apart from the object of our sentiment. The baseball glove I played centerfield with when I was seven? Turns out I really LIKED it, but love? I have never felt the ache of separation, not even for a moment.
Dear friends and family members, on the other hand, regularly occupy my brain and heart, eliciting things I should have said, wanted to say, or neglected to tell them. Which is why I encourage you, my dear readers/listeners, to really BE with people now, while they are near, while you can. Say the thing that scares you, take the risk, and trust in their love for you as much as you feel it for them. We are all the richer when we live instead of hide.
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