Regrets: I've Had a Few …

… and here is one I'm going to mention.

While Zack was here, as I mentioned, we spoke of regrets. He told of regretting that he had not been present in the period leading up to his friend's death. That reminded me of the following, which I told him, and which I think may have some lessons for all of us.


My mother had two brothers. The older of the two died in the early 1960's. The second, born about 1908, died in 1982, after five eventful years in Mom's life.

• 1977 — My kid brother got engaged. A couple of months later Dad died.
• 1978 — My brother's wedding in Tokyo  — Mom, my other brother, and I were there.
• 1979 — Mom's mother died (in her 90's).
• 1981 — November: My nephew was born in Tokyo — Mom's first grandchild (and it turns out, her only one).

Of course, Mom was thrilled and made arrangements to travel to Japan in March to see the baby.

Early in the winter, my uncle, her brother had a stroke, the latest of several health problems. He had been living in the house which had been his mother's and his home since about 1917. After his release from the hospital he came to stay with us for his convalescence.

As his visit continued for several weeks, with little visible change in his condition, I began to fear that he would still be with us in March, and my mother would have to cancel her plans to see her new grandson. So one evening, when she was out of earshot, I said to him that I hoped he would be able to take care of himself by March, since I would not be around on weekdays to help him, and it would be too bad if Mom couldn't go to Japan, since it meant so much to her. (At that time, I knew nothing about home health aides and visiting nurses.)

Soon after that, my uncle announced that he would go back to his house as an experiment to see how he could do on his own. A day or two later, my mother couldn't reach him by phone and went to check up on him. She called me and told me that she had found him dead.

For the past 30 years, I have blamed myself for his death. If I hadn't effectively sent him away, perhaps he would have been able to recuperate, whereas being on his own was too much, too soon. I've also blamed myself for being too uncaring toward him, and I've wondered how hurt he felt at my attitude toward him.

This post is getting long, and I still need to tell you what I think about it all, as I look back. So I'll pick up in the following post.