Grieving for the Life I Think I Could Have Had

 

 

Some days, I can’t believe I have lived way more than I have left to live, and I am sad. I am sad for not having done more with this life, but I am happy to be alive. I have this feeling of regret at the things I wanted to do but didn’t do. I wanted to travel the world. I traveled a little bit, and I enjoyed visiting Panama and Florida. I hold onto the taste of those experiences with joy. Paris, London, Scotland, and Africa are still calling, but is it too late?

I wanted to study law because I was intrigued by the subject's nuances. I found that this wasn’t a passing fancy when I studied criminal and contract law. I loved it and wanted to go on, but a little worm in my ear says it’s too late. But is it ever too late to study and learn new things?

I grieve because I made so many decisions that I knew were wrong because I love making others happy, even to my detriment. I grieve for the amazing travels I could and should have had, but why not start small and travel around my country? There are so many sites and places in little Jamaica I have yet to experience.

I grieve for the impressive law career I could have had if only I had said no a little more often and yes to me a lot more. Is it really too late to pursue my dream that has refused to die? I go between “No, it’s not, and tell myself, why bother at this age and stage of life?” Then I reminded myself that I have lived for everyone else, so isn’t it time to do something for me? When I was much younger, and the world was mine to conquer, I told myself that even if I were 99 years old, I would be a lawyer.

I grieve for the decisions that prevented me from having the kind of financial freedom I crave. I grieved over the business ideas I was too timid or afraid to pursue. I smile amidst my grief when I see where others have taken those ideas and created profitable businesses.

I grieve for not embracing my creative side. I always wanted to learn to do watercolor paintings. It calls me daily – just take up your brush and paints and make strokes on the water – just start.  I grieve for the time wasted making excuses instead of sitting down and completing my many incomplete manuscripts. 

I grieve for the time wasted having regrets when what I need to do is brush myself off and stride boldly into my future—with hope and purpose. After all, it is not over until I am dead, and until then, I need to enjoy the life I have and move toward the life I really want.