There’s a specific kind of grief that comes with hindsight.
It’s not the same as missing someone. It’s not the same as wishing they were still here. It’s the moment when you realize—too late—that someone you loved was going through something hard and you didn't offer them the support they deserved.
My sister went through something difficult. And I remember, 6 weeks later, leaving a message semi-begging her to come to family Christmas eve dinner at our grandma's. I believe I reminded her that Nanny was old and it was important for us all to be there. I remember being impatient that she wasn't attending family events (she missed Thanksgiving too).
Now I've gone through something somewhat similar, and it turns out I was being an insensitive asshole.
And now I can’t call her and say, “I get it now. I’m so sorry.” Because she’s dead.
It’s not the main grief, but it’s a side dish I wasn’t expecting: regret. Shame. The gut-punch of late empathy.
And I can say, even if it goes nowhere:
I’m sorry. I understand now.
I wish I’d gotten it sooner.
