My Regrets

When a loved one dies it is perfectly natural to have feelings of regret. It’s natural to regret a conversation you might have had with them or one you didn’t get to have. It is natural to feel regret for not spending enough time with them. It’s natural to feel regret for just about anything pertaining to your dearly departed.

My main regret is not seeing ‘me’ through her eyes. I know she loved me. I know she always knew that I was a safe place to go when everything else went wrong, but I never truly got to see myself through her eyes.

When I got all her things from the school including her bag, it all contained very few personal items. There were the typical items a teenager would have like notebooks full of school work, doodles on everything, art projects, half eaten bags of chips, squished pieces of candy, pens and pencils. The only real personal items I found in the bag she carried everyday was my father’s concealed handgun license and a photograph of myself. Right then I felt an instant feeling of regret for not truly seeing just how important I was to her.

I wish I could’ve seen myself through my daughter’s eyes. It may not sound like much, but something as small as her carrying that photo of me around allowed me to see just a tiny glimpse of the value I brought to her life.

I now carry my father’s CHL in my purse along with a photograph of Madison inside a sterling silver business card case I had engraved for my Dad as a little girl. Inside that case are the only two physical photos I take with me everywhere.

 

 

img_0478
Photograph of Myself Taken by: Madison

 

1 thought on “My Regrets”

Leave a Reply to stephaniemoorewrites Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.