It seems odd that I am choosing to write about such a downer topic when everything around me is so beautiful right now. I have been luxuriating in these hot, long summer days. They make me feel happy and refreshed and quite inspired. It also seems odd to write on this topic when just today I could choose from any number of events to share. I found my two year old playing with an open bottle of Aspirin. She had three in her hand and when questioned claims she did not eat any. I checked her teeth and there was no trace of the blue capsule. I took her word for it. She then ran around the soccer field half naked for the last half of my son’s soccer practice. And finally, while I was walking around the river tonight I told a woman who looked pregnant (at a distance) that she looked adorable only to be slightly horrified when she walked passed me and I started second guessing myself. Maybe she just thought I was a lesbian.
But, I do not usually choose my topics they most often just come to me and whatever the topic, I am usually game for sharing. And for some reason, this is the story that I feel I must tell. My tale of regret is a sad one and I am not sure why I feel the need to make it public but why start censoring myself now?
Regret, real regret, is a horrible thing. Sure there are lots of small things in our lives we may think we regret but we probably throw the term around a little loosely. I am talking about the kind of regret that eats at your soul.
As I have previously written, I just spent two weeks camping at a place I have been going for twenty six years. Going there is like having my past, present and future all rolled into one. I met Sarah there when I was just eleven years old. I walked up to her and asked her if she wanted to go to the beach with me. We were inseparable after that and our friendship would become one of constant letter writing and sleepovers in between our family’s annual camping trips to OTF in the summer.
Sarah was beautiful. I don’t think any guy even saw me all those years camping as teenagers because I was always with her and she had the body of a bikini goddess. But my friendship with her was worth enduring being invisible. Sarah lived with a heart condition that sadly took the life of her twin when she was just three years old. Still, Sarah was always casual about her condition (typical teenager) and she took her medication without much thought.
Sarah and I remained great friends and we would eventually stand up for one another in our weddings. A couple years after that, as life got to be too busy (whatever that means), we fell out of touch. I remember after I had my first child she called a couple of times but between a mild case of self-diagnosed postpartum and the insanity of having a first child, I didn’t return her calls. I am sure her feelings were hurt. Then, when I had my baby shower, she was unable to come. I am sure my feelings were hurt. And after that, even though I still thought of her as one of my best friends, we just never seemed to really connect again.
Seven years ago, Sarah’s father called me out of the blue. He called to let me know that Sarah was in the hospital. It wasn’t too serious they thought but she had been having some trouble with her heart. He thought it would be nice for me to call her. She had mentioned to him that it would be nice to talk to me. I instantly knew I should just go and see her. I took down her number and put it beside me on my nightstand.
That number, in red pen, sat on my nightstand for two weeks. Every night for two weeks I told myself I would call tomorrow. Then tomorrow came and went and I would make the same promise to myself. Looking back, I think the thought of calling her while she was in the hospital overwhelmed me. It felt like we had let a lifetime go by without contacting each other and I just kept putting it off those first awkward hellos.
On December 30, 2005 Sarah passed away. I never called her. Her father would later tell me that Sarah didn’t know what she had done to make me so upset with her. Sarah had meant so much to me for so long and in the final days of her life I let her down in a way that is hard to move past. I did not know that Sarah was going to die but that does not excuse the fact that I did not call her. She and her family reached out to me and I went to bed every night thinking, tomorrow.
Pictures like this haunt me. Our past is a little haunting though isn’t it. The girls in this photo only knew beach days and Boggle and staying up all night talking about boys and our futures. When I think of Sarah I feel ashamed but I am not so selfish as to let those thoughts erode my memories of her and our beautiful friendship. I hope if she could she would forgive me and know that I loved her.
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