Sometimes I go there.
I let myself think about all the things I could have done differently. I let my mind wander.
What if I had told my Dad to get a scan earlier?
What if I had paid more attention to his gastrointestinal discomforts?
What if I had visited more?
What if I had encouraged him to try newer and more holistic healing strategies?
You drive yourself crazy doing that. So I don’t usually let myself, because I’m crazy enough as it is.
But sometimes, I go there. Then I let out a big sigh, and inevitably end up back here: I visited enough. He didn’t want alternative strategies. No one talks to their fathers about their bowels.
It’s all so clear in hindsight. The signs were there. And that scan, why didn’t I push for that scan? The one that was just barely out of my control. So close I can feel it, but too far to grasp how I missed it. It wouldn’t have mattered, though; the pancreas is the most forgotten organ there is. And when you sum that all up, you get my list of questions. The list that occasionally I drive myself crazy with.
The list has taught me something, though: the goal of life is to live it as best you can.
I’m not saying happy or triumphant or goal-reaching. Just the best you can with what you’re given, every day.
I’m saying this: fulfill yourself with every small decision you make. It doesn’t have to be climbing a mountain or swimming with sharks for goodness sake.
Just do your best with what comes to you every moment. Sometimes it won’t be quite right, but since that was your best at the time you won’t be able to regret it later, and you’ll inevitably be better on the next one.
When you live your best life, you automatically have a smaller list of questions to go over and over and over when the unexpected strikes. Your best life has no room for regrets, even when the unexpected happens quickly and shockingly, changing your foundation without your consent.
How short is your list?