It's funny what we regret . . .
“You never lose by loving. You always lose by holding back.”
Barbara De Angelis
Barbara De Angelis
Back in December of 2007, I drove through a horrible snowstorm to my parent's house in Missouri. It is normally a 10 hour trip; this time it took closer to 14 hours. I was determined to get there as my mother was very ill and she had an appointment with both her oncologist and another specialist that I was going to take her to. This was only the second time in over 6 years that I had seen her. She had cut me out of her life and had only accepted contact with me once she became critically ill.
When I arrived, it was clear that her condition had worsened. I took her to her oncologist the next day. They ran some tests and the nurse told me that they suspected that she was experiencing full blown Leukemia. They didn't want to tell my mom until she saw the other specialist. After lunch, I took mom to the specialist. We were a bit early and we were sitting in the waiting room with the other patients. My mom's hearing was also failing her, so in order to hear better, she had begun the habit of shouting. As we were sitting there, she turned to me and shouted, "So, now what is it that you do? I've asked your sisters and no one can really tell me and I would like to know."
There was so much that I could have told her. I could tell that she was trying to re-connect with me, but I just couldn't quite do it. I wasn't able to reach past the pain. I gave some answer that satisfied her, but it was incomplete. She died a few months later with me at her bedside. We made our peace. What I find ironic is that now I have no regrets about any of the times that I have put myself out there and have been rejected or hurt. This is the experience that I regret: not reaching out and opening my heart. I can even understand why it was difficult for me. This regret has shown me, however, what is important to me and how I want to be.
So, it occurs to me that perhaps this might be a space to answer her question a bit more fully. If I were back in that moment, maybe this time I would say:
Mom, my personal vision is that by the year 2020 I will have helped 1 million people improve their lives. This may take a lot of different shapes: teaching, coaching, facilitating, consulting. However, what’s important to me is to show up in their lives and help them in some way which enables them to improve their own condition. This might be helping them believe in themselves or in their potential; it might be helping them have a little more confidence in themselves; it might be simply be representing hope in the darkness of uncertainty.
I believe that there is a critical juncture in every person’s life where we must choose between our fear and our possibilities for the future. At that juncture, hope, faith and belief must be present to combat the fear, the darkness and the uncertainty. Hope, faith and belief is often in the form of knowing that someone else has felt what you’ve felt, feared what you’ve feared, and faced them down and succeeded. As a child, Mom, I watched you face these intersections alone. I did my best to help, but it wasn't enough. I have dedicated my life to making a difference for others to help them in those intersections so that maybe they can find the happiness and peace that often alluded you. It was what I most wanted for you.
When I arrived, it was clear that her condition had worsened. I took her to her oncologist the next day. They ran some tests and the nurse told me that they suspected that she was experiencing full blown Leukemia. They didn't want to tell my mom until she saw the other specialist. After lunch, I took mom to the specialist. We were a bit early and we were sitting in the waiting room with the other patients. My mom's hearing was also failing her, so in order to hear better, she had begun the habit of shouting. As we were sitting there, she turned to me and shouted, "So, now what is it that you do? I've asked your sisters and no one can really tell me and I would like to know."
There was so much that I could have told her. I could tell that she was trying to re-connect with me, but I just couldn't quite do it. I wasn't able to reach past the pain. I gave some answer that satisfied her, but it was incomplete. She died a few months later with me at her bedside. We made our peace. What I find ironic is that now I have no regrets about any of the times that I have put myself out there and have been rejected or hurt. This is the experience that I regret: not reaching out and opening my heart. I can even understand why it was difficult for me. This regret has shown me, however, what is important to me and how I want to be.
So, it occurs to me that perhaps this might be a space to answer her question a bit more fully. If I were back in that moment, maybe this time I would say:
Mom, my personal vision is that by the year 2020 I will have helped 1 million people improve their lives. This may take a lot of different shapes: teaching, coaching, facilitating, consulting. However, what’s important to me is to show up in their lives and help them in some way which enables them to improve their own condition. This might be helping them believe in themselves or in their potential; it might be helping them have a little more confidence in themselves; it might be simply be representing hope in the darkness of uncertainty.
I believe that there is a critical juncture in every person’s life where we must choose between our fear and our possibilities for the future. At that juncture, hope, faith and belief must be present to combat the fear, the darkness and the uncertainty. Hope, faith and belief is often in the form of knowing that someone else has felt what you’ve felt, feared what you’ve feared, and faced them down and succeeded. As a child, Mom, I watched you face these intersections alone. I did my best to help, but it wasn't enough. I have dedicated my life to making a difference for others to help them in those intersections so that maybe they can find the happiness and peace that often alluded you. It was what I most wanted for you.


