I have very few regrets about how my life has panned out, things have almost gone how I expected them to. I've pretty much sailed through life compared to some people. Oh, there have been the occasional blips, a wrong decision here, a bit of a cockup there, but nothing that I haven't overcome, and no major disasters. Getting involved with the wrong person, more than once, funny how we can make the same mistake twice, or several times. I think we do learn, eventually.
I don't regret leaving home at 18 and moving away to start my independent life. I don't regret changing jobs so often, I get bored doing the same repetitive tasks over and over again. I don't regret not getting married, it would have been a constant battle between wanting to do my own thing, and being half of a partnership. I don't regret moving to this house, even though it was a relationship and a job which brought me here, both of which have since ended. A place is what you make it, and it's nice place to live.
I have never been one for harping on about the past, what's gone is gone, move on. I am not the shy child now, or the troubled teenager who was unhappy about her face. Oh, it was painful at the time, caused me no end of grief, especially the other kids calling me names. I have moved on, I still don't like my face but I'm stuck with it. My only regret was looking in the mirror and crying so much, but I was too young to do anything about how I felt.
No, looking back, there are very few regrets, except one that comes into my mind now and again. You know what that is? That I didn't talk enough with my mother. She died unexpectedly 28 years ago, and I was too busy with my own life to make time for her. My regret is that I have missed out on the chance to learn more about her life, I was so damned selfish. She told me bits about growing up in Hamburg, about the war, and about my half brother. I know a little about some of her family members, but she told me these things when I was a child, and I wasn't paying attention, because I didn't think I needed to know.
You might have noticed that I wear two rings, these are the rings that she always wore and I inherited them. She didn't leave much to us, she died almost penniless, there was just enough to pay for the funeral. My poor mother had such a hard life, and I wish I could speak to her now. Looking at the rings on my hands reminds me of her. I have just made a short video, you will see the rings, that is what has triggered me to write this.
If you are lucky enough to still have your mother, please talk to her as often as you can. Ask her about her life, find about where she came from, ask her what it was like growing up all those years ago. Get her to pass down her stories to you, because one day she won't be there any longer.
Lots of love xxxxxxx
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