Regretulations

There's a lot of things to regret when someone dies. Like every thing. The regrets get easier to ignore - where regret used to be an unbearable cluster headache, now it's a dull migraine. But oh-by-the-way, new regrets can also pop up at any time! Ain't that special? And they can take the form of accomplishments, too. As in: "I regret my loved one isn't here to see this accomplishment, they would be so proud."

I made a decision when my wife died that I would live on, since she couldn't, and that means I have to, you know, keep living on. I also realized fairly quickly that if I keep living, my wife will never see me become the best version of myself. Because I'm still improving. I have to improve. Otherwise I'll implode. And if I did that, my wife would be piiiiiiiissed.

I'm writing a book in honor of my wife that she will never read a word of. Well, I try to write, when that regret doesn't get in the way. Isn't that fascinating, how progress on a project can be hindered by the grief-regret that the project's progress can trigger? There's a lot of loopiness in grief. Enough to give anyone a headache. Like a mental headache. A headache of the mind. I guess just a head-headache.