A Mother’s Regret

JESSE’S MOM: I think I want to write a book: How to Date a Widow. Or maybe it should be how to date someone who has lost their family in a horrible tragedy.

FRIEND: Is it that bad?

JM: Dating is bad in general, only made worse by the circumstances.

F: Dare I ask? What happened?

JM: Last week I went out with this guy for the third time and, my hand to god, he actually asked me what my biggest regret was.

F: Oh no.

JM: Oh yes. He knew my situation. We were set up by mutual friends. What on earth would possess a man to ask someone like me a question like that!? On a date, no less.

F: What did you say?

JM: At first there was the uncomfortable silence. But honestly, I am not sure he knew that it was uncomfortable. I think he thought I was just thinking about it. Which I was. I was thinking about saying, “Not staying on the phone all night with my husband the night before he died. Not forcing Randy to wake Alexia up so I could tell her I love her one last time. Every time I chose to do chores or run errands instead of play with the kids or hang out with my husband. Every minute I spent preparing my daughter for adulthood instead of just having fun and goofing around.”

F: Why didn’t you say those things? I mean, he asked.

JM: I guess because none of those things are my biggest regret.

F: What is your biggest regret, then? If you don’t mind my asking.

JM: It’s weird. I had never thought about it until he asked. So I guess I have George or Frank or whatever his name was to thank for clarifying it. A couple of days after they died, Jesse came into my bedroom late and asked if he could sleep with me. Of course I let him, and we huddled together quietly until we fell asleep. The next morning I woke up to the crush. That horrifying moment when you remember everything and it feels like you are learning about it for the first time. I started to cry. Jesse woke up shortly after and I felt his little hand on my shoulder. I was facing away from him so I wouldn’t wake him up. And it just came out of my mouth, “Why didn’t your father make you wear life jackets? Why weren’t you wearing life jackets?” God dammit why would I ask a seven year old little boy who has just lost his father a question like that!?

F: Do you think he hadn’t thought of that?

JM: I don’t know if he had or not. But her certainly does now. And more importantly he knows that I think of it, too.

F: Have you talked to him about it since?

JM: I just can’t bring it up. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. And I don’t want to make it worse.

F: What did he say? Did he answer the question?

JM: He said the life jackets were in the boat and that he didn’t remember why they weren’t wearing them.

F: Jesus. … So what did you tell the guy was your biggest regret?

JM: I told him I regretted not taking typing in high school.