Last week my father died.
He had been unwell for quite awhile, but the end still came much too quick. What troubles me the most is the time I didn’t spend with him. We lived 600 miles apart, and while I sent fairly regular emails (my father didn’t text), I rarely picked up the phone to call him. My dad was a talker, and I knew if I called I would be on the phone for an hour at the very least. It felt like I didn’t have the time. I was tired after spending 11 hours at work each day; on the weekends, there was always grading and planning and household chores.
Now when I think about how I’ll never speak to him again, my heart aches, and I’m filled with regret. I’ve been asking myself: Why couldn’t I have just set aside an hour a week to call? Why couldn’t I find the time?
I can’t turn back the clock, but I can make a change in my life going forward….