No Regrets

Early in sobriety, I worried about how to mend the broken relationships in my life. And the longer I stayed sober, the more I realized how badly tattered all of them were. Whether at work or at home, my alcoholism had done its worst, and I shuddered to think about what it would take to make things right.

Of course, my worst regrets were with the ones closest to me—my parents and my two sisters. I had blamed them unreasonably, and to my drinking friends, I’d often complained, “If you had my family, you’d drink, too!”

How terribly unfair that was. However, sobriety soon changed my perspective, and as I began seeing how badly I’d treated them, I began wondering how I could ever make things right—much less obtain their forgiveness.

They weren’t the ones who had made me drink, I had blamed them for everything so I would have an excuse.

Certainly the truth hurt—and had it not been for others who had gone down that road before me, I might have beaten myself up to the point where relapse (and blackout) was my only option!

I thank God I had others I trusted whose voices were louder than the voices in my head, I had to admit my wretched behavior, but now it was time to make things right.

Weekly visits to family brought me opportunities to be helpful. Listening carefully and showing an interest in what they wanted to talk about followed. Oh, it wasn’t perfect. A whole lifetime geared to selfishness and self-centeredness can’t be reversed overnight. But I did have many, many opportunities to practice the principles of honesty, open-mindedness and willingness—along with what little humility I had at the time.

And it worked.

Along the way, I began the practice of calling more often. But the fateful day came when I complained to one of my closest friends about a message my mother left on my answering machine. In my mind, it sounded like a guilt trip, and I was mad! “She should know better,” I ranted. “After all, if anything had been wrong, I would have called her!”

But it wasn’t a guilt trip at all. She’d called out of genuine concern and love. I was too wrapped up in self to see that. But my friend wasn’t, and suddenly, his voice changed. I heard something like impatience bordering on indignation as he said, “Wait a minute. Can you afford one long-distance call every week?”

“Of course,” I said weakly.

“Then I suggest you do that—and you can bet you’ll never get a call like that again!

He was right, and I hung my head in shame. And for the last 33 years, the numbers of phone calls increased to almost every day. Video calls made it even more special, and I finally became the son God always wanted me to be.

While I was drinking, I became increasingly untrustworthy, and my parents finally decided to quietly replace me for one of my sisters when it came to executing their will. But after a few years of sobriety, they called me aside one day, and with tears in their eyes, they told me they had reinstated me to that position of honor and responsibility.

I cried that day, and they were tears of love and gratitude for what God had done in my life. Finally, I could honor them again the way they deserved to be.

When my father passed away two years ago, I did all I could for him and my mother by following his final wishes. I took over most of their finances and did my best to keep my mother comfortable and happy. But I didn’t cry more than a few tears at his memorial service, even though I felt a deep loss and a sadness that was hard to explain. In fact, I worried that I wasn’t allowing myself to grieve.

Finally, I decided to start speaking with a counselor, and that was a great help. But after only a few sessions with my psychologist, he said, “I think you don’t have to be worried about having a big ugly meltdown. In fact, I suspect you won’t cry about this at all. You see, you’ve told me over and over how nothing was left unsaid. You have no regrets, no resentments, and no remorse. You love this man dearly, just as he dearly loved you. Those types of meltdowns happen when someone has regrets or loses someone unexpectedly. They wish they’d made more calls, spent more time together, and all that. But I think you’ll be alright.”

Just a week ago or so, my mother passed away in her sleep. While I can’t say it was sudden or unexpected, I guess I always hoped I would have seen her celebrate her 93^rd birthday. But instead, she fell asleep and passed away peacefully in the night. Now she awaits that “great and glorious morning” when she will be awakened by the trumpets and see Jesus coming to take her home. She will see her dear husband awaken, too, and be reunited for eternity.

Oh Lord, come quickly, is my constant thought these days. And until then, keep me faithful. I’m claiming the only promise contained in the Ten Commandments—“Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be long upon the land which the Lord your God is giving you” (Exodus 20:12). Yes, I want to live as long as God has use for me.

And to think there was a time when I couldn’t wait to end my life ….