As a person, I try to live my life without regrets.
Why? Because 99 per cent of the time, you cannot change the outcome of what has happened. Those experiences, good or bad, help shape the person you become and teach you for the next time you encounter a similar moment.
This week, however, I live with regret.
My grandfather, Glenn Snell, passed away at the age of 93 on Friday, Jan. 6.
Grandpa lived in Wroxeter, a short drive from my home in Palmerston. I routinely drive through Wroxeter on my way to Wingham, be it for work or a kid’s hockey game, so stopping to visit Grandpa would be an easy thing to do.
However, over the past year or so, that wasn’t the case.
I would drive down the highway and look over at Grandpa’s house, and say to myself that I should stop by on my way back. Then something – running late for the next assignment, or needing to get back to Palmerston to pick up the kids at school, or whatever other reason – would prevent me from stopping in at the house for a cup of coffee and a chat.
My wife, being the wonderful and intelligent woman she is, would tell me on a regular basis that I should visit Grandpa.
“I know. I’ll do that this week,” I would say.
And I meant it. But something would come up.
In the past few months, Grandpa’s health declined and he was admitted to the Wingham and District Hospital.
“You should really go see him,” my wife would say.
“I know,” was my reply.
Regrettably, I didn’t.
Those that know me will know that I don’t do emotion very well, at least emotion that makes me appear vulnerable. I don’t shed a tear very often, I don’t show sadness on my face, and I don’t appear overly happy regularly either.
However, the past few days have been different.
On Friday, I was in a different mental space. I was sad, and my family knew that and could see it. After finding out about Grandpa’s passing – at this point I hadn’t told my kids – we went skating at a local arena with some friends. They could tell something wasn’t “right” with me that day.
I was feeling a lot of things on Friday, but two feelings were front and centre: regret and anger.
Regret because, unlike a lot of life’s events, I had every ability to visit Grandpa and I didn’t.
And anger because I didn’t use that ability to do so.
On Monday during Grandpa’s funeral, my eight-year-old son looked at me and leaned into me.
“You look sad, Dad,” he whispered.
“I am sad,” I said.
He put his arms around me and gave me as big of a hug as you can give sitting in a pew.
“It’s OK to be sad,” he said.
As I said before, I wouldn’t change many of the decisions in my life, but if I could I would have turned right off Huron Road 87 into Wroxeter a lot more often.
For those of you reading this, I encourage you to make time to visit friends and family if you are able to. We get caught up in our day-to-day lives that we forget, or choose to push off, the important things in our lives such as family.
We only have so much time with the people in our lives that we love, so spend what you can with them.
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Mike Wilson is the editor of Midwestern Newspapers. Comments and feedback are welcome at mwilson@midwesternnewspapers.com.
