At the end of it all, what is enough? My grandmother Estelle died last week. My step-grandmother actually, but the only grandmother on my dad’s side I have ever known.
I was very close to my dad’s father, my Papa — very close. Papa Herbie visited often when I was a kid but almost always alone.
My grandmother had to stay home with her son, Keith, who was unwell for most of his life. My grandmother fell two weeks ago and had to go to the emergency room, leaving her son home alone.
He died while she was gone. She blamed herself. She died a week or so later. The whole thing has gotten me thinking a lot about regret.