Everyone has regrets in life

There is no rain this afternoon.

An ordinary afternoon: pale sunlight, a gentle breeze, people still riding along the streets, still hurrying somewhere, still talking and laughing, still living their lives.

And yet, for some reason, I find myself remembering someone.

Someone who was once very close.

Some people come into our lives in years that seem unremarkable.

We were young then. We still had the energy to go places, so much to talk about, so many dreams we believed would surely come true tomorrow.

The two of us went to work, rode along long roads, sat together after an exhausting day. Sometimes we hardly said a thing. A glass of beer set down on the table.

Clink.

That was enough.

Some friendships are made of simple things like that.

No promises needed.

No need to say, “We'll always be brothers.”

Because back then, we never imagined a day when we would have to speak of each other in the past tense.

Youth is a strange thing.

It makes us believe there will always be plenty more.

Plenty of tomorrows.

Plenty of chances to meet again.

The people beside us today will surely still be there.

So we go on living without a care.

Passing one another by without a care.

Hurting one another without a thought.

Thinking nothing of saving a thank-you for later, a hug for another time, a conversation for tomorrow.

Then life quietly takes things away, little by little.

A city.

A job.

A dream.

A person.

A stretch of time.

Until we suddenly look back and realize that all those tomorrows we thought we had… have already slipped away.

I used to think the people close to me would always stay close.

Only later did I understand that some people leave for no momentous reason.

They simply drift away.

Like a boat leaving the shore on a misty morning.

At first, you can still see it.

A little later, it is still there.

Then it is only a speck.

Then it is gone.

Not a sound.

Not a farewell.

Only the water closing behind it.

And you stand there, not knowing what to call that kind of parting.

There are people I still remember.

Not every day.

Only now and then.

An old song.

A street corner.

A familiar café.

A passing scent of coffee.

Or an afternoon like this one, when my heart suddenly grows quiet and heavy.

And then I remember.

I remember the days when the two of us were young.

I remember our rambling conversations.

I remember the things we went through together that seemed so enormous, but looking back now, were only a small part of life.

How strange.

Some things seem so ordinary while we are living them that we scarcely think to remember them.

Once they are gone, though, they lie quietly in some corner of the mind, waiting for the slightest breeze to stir them awake.

I have my regrets, too.

I suppose everyone does.

Some regret losing someone.

Some regret a love that never worked out.

Some regret a chance they let slip by.

Some regret the years they lived in too much of a hurry.

As for me, sometimes I regret not knowing how to hold on to the people who were once so close.

But there is little use in turning it over and over in my mind.

People are not leaves we can pick up and press between the pages of a book, preserving their shape for a lifetime.

Some people have to leave.

Some roads have to end.

Some doors close not because there is nothing beautiful left behind them, but because we have reached the end of a chapter in our lives.

I used to think regret was a very sad thing.

Now, not entirely.

Sometimes regret is simply memory's way of reminding us:

“There was a time when I lived with all my heart.”

I once cared for someone.

I once trusted someone.

I once spent a whole stretch of my youth beside someone.

There were days that, if I could return to them, I might not need to change at all.

I would only want to sit a little longer.

Say a few more words.

Have one more drink.

Laugh one more time.

Then, late at night, the two of us would ride home through a city that had yet to fall asleep.

Whoosh… whoosh…

The wind rushing against our faces.

Youth rushing against our faces.

Everything weightless.

Perhaps the older we get, the less we wish to go back.

We only hope the people we once cared for are safe and well.

Wherever they may be.

Even if their lives have turned a new page.

Even if there is now a distance between us that neither of us knows how to name.

As long as they are doing well.

That is enough.

Because, in the end, loving someone does not have to mean keeping them beside you.

Sometimes love is simply looking toward someone who has gone far away and still being able to say in your heart:

“May you be at peace.”

Evening is settling in.

The sunlight at the window is fading.

Outside, the stream of people keeps moving.

The day keeps passing.

Those who were once so close have gone in different directions through life.

None of us knows whom we will see again tomorrow.

None of us knows whether an ordinary conversation today might be the last.

So if you can still love, love.

If you can still say thank you, say it.

If there is someone you have thought about so often but have not checked on in a long time…

Reach out.

Do not let the things you need to say become things you can say only to a memory.

Because life is so short.

So short that sometimes, just as we begin to realize how much someone matters…

they have already passed out of our lives.

And we are left standing there.

Alone.

Looking down the old road.

Watching the shadows of evening fall.

And then we understand —

some people no longer walk beside us, but the stretch of road we shared stays somewhere within us for a very long time.

Like a last slant of sunlight at the end of the day.

No longer bright enough to light the way.

But enough to let us know…

there was once a beautiful afternoon.