No Regrets

Warning: Contains sensitive content - alcohol abuse, self harm, mental health

Part One

Danny was dying. He’d made his peace with it, and knew it would only be a matter of time. Death loomed.

Regardless… It was a bitter pill to swallow. He’d hoped to live long past 73. With today’s medical advances, he’d hoped to reach 100. He even joked that he’d reserved the hall for the party. That joke always got a polite chuckle. Liz always rolled her eyes, having heard the joke too many times.

Instead he’d fallen 27 years short of 100. It was cliche, but upon reflection he really had lived a full life. As his obit would read, he’d be survived by a loving wife of 44 years and 2 daughters. He had a fulfilling engineering career. He’d explored his hobbies, doing plenty of fishing and skiing. He’d volunteered at the schools, and later at the church.

Everyone has thousands of regrets throughout their life, but the key was to make sure those were just small regrets. Things you should have said differently or little decisions you might’ve made differently. As Danny leaned back in his hospital bed, he asked himself if he had any big regrets.

There was one major watershed moment in his life. One of the biggest decisions he’d ever make. Certainly the hardest. And he’d made his decision and stood by it. He’d love to say he never looked back, but that’s not true at all. Nearly every day he wondered if he made the right choice. Even today, as he neared death.

He gave a soft moan. Despite the meds, he still felt a good amount of pain. Liz leaned forward in her chair and clutched his hand.

“Are you okay, hun?” she asked tenderly.

Ignoring the pain as best he could, Danny offered her a small smile. Some reassurance he was managing. Despite, well, his current situation.

He was growing weaker. He was self-aware enough to recognize this. His daughters, Jessie and Caitlin, had traveled into town this week. He’d seen them this morning, said his goodbyes. They waited in the next room, awaiting updates.

Danny’s mouth was dry, but he managed to whisper a few words. “I love you,” he told his wife. He couldn’t say goodbye yet though. Not yet.

Liz sat forward in her chair, and leaned into him, giving him a soft kiss on the lips. Each had a feeling - each somehow knew - this would be their final kiss.

His eyes were growing heavy, and the pain was intensifying. He closed his eyes. Just for a moment. Yes, just for a second or two. He started to whisper something else, but couldn’t. His mouth was too dry. He didn’t have the energy.

But his mind continued. He thought to himself… no. No room for regrets. He’d do it the same way all over again. No regrets. No regrets.

Then Danny drifted off. His very last thoughts were of his wife, and daughters, and the life he was fortunate enough to live.

Part Two

It was Valentine's Day during year 16 of their marriage. Danny had gotten Liz a book she’d wanted, along with an Edible Arrangements basket sent to the house. He’d gotten home from work early, and had printed out a letter he’d written her. He went into the den - effectively Liz’s home office - and retrieved the letter from the printer.

Danny went to staple the letter, but the stapler was empty. So he began sifting through her desk drawers looking for staples.

He never did find the staples.

Instead he found some greeting cards, and some letters. Aww, how sweet, he thought. She kept some cards and letters I gave her.

But as Danny looked closer, he realized something - these were not from him. He began reading, as his hands and eventually whole body shook.

He quickly realized these cards and letters - these love letters - were to his wife, from another woman, named Rachel.

Oh. Shit.

Liz was having an affair. Going through the letters, he realized this had been going on for over a year.

His knees were shaking, and he had to sit down. He found himself snapping photos of these letters with his phone, despite his desire to never read them again. Liz was picking up dinner and would be home momentarily. The girls were doing their homework in their rooms.

Danny went into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of bourbon. He had to say something. He had to talk to her. To find out more.

The question lingered - what would he decide to do about this?

—

They talked. It was a rough conversation. The longest night of Danny’s life.

Yes, Liz had been having an affair with this woman. They’d met over a year ago, and started seeing each other more and more on the side. It was both emotional and sexual. Both equally devastating to her husband.

Sure, things had gotten stale. Generally they’d functioned well as a married couple. But in many ways, they’d operated as roommates. And Liz found herself wanting more - from someone else.

She still loved him, so she said. He still loved her of course. He had found himself wondering over the past few months, wondering if she was really where she said she was. Turns out, he was right to wonder.

Danny found himself too shocked to cry. Don’t worry, the tears would come later. But that first night, everything was just too much. He was blindsided, completely shocked. He was unable to emotionally process the whole thing.

That night he did not sleep well. Neither did Liz. She slept on the couch, him in their bed. Neither got more than a couple of hours.

He’d gone to bed thinking it was over. 50% of marriages ended in divorce. Count theirs amongst those numbers. He was preparing himself for a difficult day ahead, of separating, of calling a lawyer, of starting to plan for the end.

Somewhere around 2 or 3 in the morning, he asked himself a question: what would it take to reconcile? To forgive? To stay together? He DID love her. He realized that his actions helped drive her towards this, whether it was justified or not. She held most of the blame, but he wasn’t perfect in this relationship.

The next morning he made his way down to the kitchen. As he sipped his coffee, he asked the question that had been on his mind: Could they still make this work?

—

They did work it out. It took a hell of a lot of effort from both of them, and there were some rough moments. Danny had never been much of a crier - he had distinct memories of his father yelling at him for crying when he was a child - but he cried a lot in the following months and years.

There were mild panic attacks when she’d run out to the store. He’d do the math in his head - the store is 10 minutes away, it should take around 30 minutes to shop, then 10 to drive home… why isn’t she home yet? But he chose to trust her. He drank more than he should’ve, and eventually realized drinking just made it worse.

He didn’t sleep well for nearly a year. He’d lay in bed, asking himself too many questions he didn’t want the answer to. Questions he didn’t dare ask her. Things he honestly didn’t want or need to know.

One night, about a month in, was especially bad. She’d gone to bed early, and the girls were asleep as well. He’d been drinking - again, a mistake. He’d compounded his mistake by adding a soundtrack of sad and depressing music, and found himself alone in his kitchen, bawling at the table.

His heart hurt. He was in so much pain, and had no idea how to stop it. He paced the room, and stopped at his knife rack, suddenly contemplating. Danny credited himself with never having suicidal thoughts throughout this whole ordeal… but that night, he considered something. What if he took a knife, and just cut his skin open? A small wound, something no one else would even notice? Something… something to deflect the pain in his heart and head. He couldn’t quite explain it.

He’d always thought cutting yourself was something goth teenagers did in a cry for attention. But suddenly he got it. Deflect the pain. Deflect the pain. Deflect. The. Pain.

He took a steak knife, and slowly rubbed it against his pinkie finger on his left hand. Slowly, but never faster. Never deeper. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to cut himself. He tossed the knife back into the drawer and sat down and cried harder. This wasn’t a victory for him. Somehow it made him weaker.

He couldn’t explain it.

—

Eventually, things settled into a somewhat normal routine. The couple moved on with their life as best they could. It was easier for her - she’d been looking to get out of the affair, but her lover had been blackmailing her, threatening to expose her. Everything out in the open, while devastating for her husband, lifted a burden for her.

To her credit, she was comforting and supporting. Loving and affectionate. Patient. Kind.

And as far as he knew… faithful.

He dove into his job as best he could. He embraced family outings and activities. Almost losing his wife had spooked him, and he savored his time with her.

They saw a couples counselor. He never told any friends or family about what happened, but eventually saw a therapist himself.

He did forgive her. But he could never forget. He thought about it every day for the rest of his life. Sometimes he’d cry for a few minutes. Sometimes he’d cry for longer. On better days he’d quickly push those thoughts aside and move on with his day.

They’d remain by each other’s side until the day he died.

Part Three

Danny was never sure what to believe when it came to the afterlife. He’d grown up Catholic, but had all but abandoned his faith by the time he finished college. He’d never quite been able to take the plunge into atheism though. He supposed he’d consider himself agnostic. Ultimately, he didn’t think too much about religion or spirituality for much of his adult life.

That was, until he neared death. Yes, it was selfish. But if he was dying, yeah, he wanted to go to heaven.

When he did pass on from his earthly body, he found himself entering a gateway. The men at the entrance welcomed him warmly. He slowly walked through, examining his surroundings.

He couldn’t help but notice the light. It was like the sunniest day he’d ever seen. The whole community was illuminated with a healthy glow. No glare, no excessive heat. Just light.

He mingled his way amongst the other people, each quick to welcome him with a smile or hello. None stopped to talk to explain where he was. Without reason, he found himself drawn forward. It wasn’t a straight line by any means, but his body seemed to know where it was going as he navigated the twisted avenues of this town.

He stopped to smell some flowers in a windowbox, to admire the decadent chocolates in a shop window, to observe the playful puppies in another window.

He walked along a river, stopping to look at the koi swimming amongst the crystal clear water. He basked in the shade of a weeping willow. He smelled more flowers.

Was this heaven?

Sure seemed like it.

Eventually, he came upon a small cottage. Sitting on the porch was an elderly woman. She looked familiar. He’d been young when his grandma - his mom’s mom - passed away. But he fondly recalled sitting in her kitchen, munchies on cookies and listening to some oldies on her record player. She’d dance when she cooked. And she gave the best hugs.

He wasn’t 100% sure, but he thought this woman was his grandma.

“Hello Daniel,” she said with a smile.

“Grandma?” She nodded. “Where am I?”

“Well, that’s a little complicated. I’m sorry to say, you’ve passed on. From earth.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I figured that. Is this… heaven?”

“Well, it’s not that simple, Daniel. There is no ‘heaven’. Yes, we are in the afterlife. And believe me, we’re in a place better than where some others ended up. But there’s no perfect heaven. It’s good - but not perfect.”

Danny considered this. Okay. Okay, not heaven. But a ‘better place’. That’s… good, right?

“Grandma, where’s grandad? Is he around here?”

She snickered. “No. Well, yes. He’s here. But I hardly see him.”

“Really? But he was your husband. For decades! You two loved each other!”

“Yes… but… he wasn’t the love of my life. Not my true love.”

“So… where is he?”

“I don’t know. He’s probably off somewhere with his true love, I suppose.” She gave a sheepish grin, and a shrug of the shoulders. Obviously, this didn’t seem to bother her much.

“Oh. Okay. I see.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you… but I wasn’t disappointed. It is the way it is. I’ve dealt with it. I’ve had an eternity to deal with it, I suppose.”

“So… Liz. When will she get here?”

“Oh sweetie, she already is here. You see, time isn’t quite… linear. Not here. You may have passed away at different points on earth, but here… here you’re both here. At the same time. There’s no waiting.”

“Well, that’s great then! Where is she?”

His grandma hesitated. She’d been so cheerful and optimistic thus far. Until that moment. Suddenly, her face dropped, and she seemed sad.

“She’s… here. Around here somewhere, yes. You’ll… you’ll bump into her at some point. In the meantime, why don’t you explore? We have an incredible taqueria. And the theater - they perform every evening. And the ice cream. Oh my, the ice cream. Yes, you should explore.”

He agreed to do so. “Well, it was great to see you again, grandma. Yes, yes, I’m going to explore.”

And find Liz.

—

He made his way through the community, stopping to chat with his fellow citizens. Some were complete strangers. Some were people he’d known in his life - his old neighbor, his 3rd grade teacher, his first boss, his best friend.

But in each conversation, he had one thing in the back of his mind - Liz. So he wrapped up each chat and continued to make his way through the streets.

Eventually, he came upon a water fountain. He approached, and eyed all the pennies in the fountain. Apparently even in the afterlife people wanted something more.

He reached into his pocket, and to his surprise found a shiny new penny. He tossed it into the fountain, and made a wish. Not that he ever believed in such nonsense. But it was a fun little tradition nonetheless.

He turned away from the fountain, and saw her. She looked as she did when he first met her. She was in her late twenties, with long brown hair halfway down her back. She wore a jean skirt, and a flowery top. She donned big loop earrings, a look he always loved.

But she was not alone. She was hand in hand with another woman. Liz pulled this woman toward her, and they kissed.

He’d never met or seen a picture of her lover. Rachel. But somehow, she was exactly how he’d always imagined her.

There she was - Liz, the love of his life. The One. But…

It dawned on him. He was never the love of HER life. He was not her One. Rachel was. And it was with Rachel that Liz had chosen to spend her afterlife with. Not him.

No, no, this certainly wasn’t heaven he was in. Danny turned, and walked away from the fountain.

On his deathbed he’d decided he’d had no regrets. Now, facing an eternity alone… yes, he had regrets.

He shuffled off down the street, unsure where he was going. Not wanting to end up anywhere. Just to walk. To cry. To think. To suffer.

It was as if he were dying all over again.