Ive been thinking a lot about my mother-in-law lately, probably because this is the date she was born back in 1921.
I wish that I could think about her, along with my own parents, without regrets, but I never can. It seems that some of my memories of parents have to do with things I wish I hadn't done, or said to them, or with wishing I'd had more patience with them at the end of their lives, or done more for them when I was able to. Those regrets haunt me, and yet I realize I probably have fewer than some people. That fact really doesn't matter because the times I wasn't as kind, or loving, or giving as I should have been are very sharp in my mind. I remember them better than I remember the times I went out of my way for them, or did something especially nice. I'm sure those occasions happened. But the negatives certainly eclipse the positives in my own mind.
My mother-in-law was a wonderful person. I wish I had told her that ore often. I hate having regrets.