Wow. This one is tough.
Not that I think I'm perfect, but I try not to hold on to things like this. I hate the way I feel when I think about negative things I've done, things I wish I hadn't done or done differently, so I don't often think of them.
One regret I have, though, is not making more effort to communicate with my grandmother, who died two weeks ago. Obviously not the same grandmother I've blogged about before; this was my father's mother and we lived far away from her. When I was a child, Mom would put me on the phone to her during the weekly call. I'd try talking to her, but my voice was so soft that I'd have to repeat myself several times, then give the phone to my mother who would tell her what I was saying, then get the phone back, hear her response, try to answer, repeat process. I was so frustrated, because I just wanted to have a normal conversation. I tried speaking louder; I just couldn't. I know it was as frustrating to everyone else as it was to me, but there wasn't anythign I could do differently. Finally I started avoiding her calls. She couldn't hear me anyway, so why try? is how my young little mind worked it out.
Now I wonder, why didn't I write? I know we used to. When I got married and was cleaning out my bedroom at my parents' house I found some old letters in my closet with cards I'd exchanged with her. I really could have and should have kept that up. Especially as I got older; there really was no (valid) excuse not to write.
Now she's gone, and there is no more time to write, call, email, anything. I feel like the only grandchild with no memories of stories Grandma would tell, or rhymes she'd make up. Hearing my cousins talk about her is like hearing stories of someone else's grandmother - this was not the Grandma I knew. Granted, the ones with stories did see her a lot more than I did, and spend time with her that I couldn't, but really, there is no excuse for the lack of communication on my part.
And for that, I need forgiveness.