At the beginning of his book, “The Power of Regret: How Looking Backward Moves Us Forward,” author Daniel Pink shares a quote from American essayist and novelist, James Baldwin:

“Though we would like to live without regrets, and sometimes proudly insist that we have none, this is not really possible, if only because we are mortal.” – JAMES BALDWIN, 1967

When I worked at an adult emergency homeless shelter, I had the privilege of sitting with numerous individuals as they traveled the final steps on their life journey. Every one of them expressed the desire to leave this world unburdened by regret. Mostly, their regrets stemmed not from the homelessness they’d experienced, but the broken relationships with the ones they loved.

In some cases, as the end neared, they reconciled with lost family members. In others, the lost ones wanted nothing to do with their wayward family member. I have often wondered if the lost ones regret their decision.

When my mother took her last breath three years ago, I felt regret’s sting upon my psyche. There were so many things left unsaid, wounds unhealed, forgiveness neither asked for nor given.

I had to do something with those regrets. Surprisingly, it was my deceased mother who helped me most.

For about six months after she died, a vision of her visited me regularly (I know that sounds airy-fairy, but it’s the only way I can explain what happened). My mother didn’t appear as the quiet, reserved, compliant woman I knew but as the spirited Holly Golightly, Audrey Hepburn’s iconic character from “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” Other than dark hair and eyes, about the only other trait they shared was a certain inability to identify with other people’s feelings.

In life, my mother insisted she could do no wrong, and insisted she didn’t. As her youngest daughter, I insisted she could and did. And that was the chasm that lay between us.

It was my therapist who gave me the key to healing that relationship in the afterlife. “Some relationships,” she said, “can’t be healed until the other person is gone.”

And then, my mother was gone.

And then, she appeared one day while I lay in the bath and told me she was sorry for not being a better mother. For not being able to see me in life through the lens of love, not regret.

She also told me I didn’t have to keep adding bubbles to my bathwater in the hopes she wouldn’t see my naked body. “I’m spirit,” she told me. “I can see right through you.”

As in life, I ignored her and kept pouring in the bubbles.

According to Pink, regret is not only healthy and universal; it is a valuable self-development tool. It can spur us on to learn from the past, grow in the present, and lighten the load of what we carry into the future.

Harnessed wisely, regret can help us do and create better on our life journey.

For me, my regrets around my relationship with my mother stemmed from my desire for having ‘the perfect mother.’

Being a mother, I realize there is no such thing.

Yet still, I wanted my mother to see and know me, not as that ‘bratty’ child I used to be, but as the wise, compassionate woman I strive to be today.

Over the course of the months she came to visit me from the afterlife, I realized my greatest regret was that I was neither very wise nor compassionate in my interactions with her.

To quote Dan Pink:

“Regret makes us human
Regret makes us better”

To let go of my regret and ultimately to grow as a human being, I had to choose to undo and reframe my regret so that I could forgive myself and let go of any remaining vestiges of regret I held about my mother. Fuelled by the grace of forgiveness, I am able to make wiser, more loving decisions today.

Every moral’s journey of life is marked by choices, paths taken, and roads left unexplored. Regret is an integral part of this journey, a bitter-sweet reminder of our humanity. However, it doesn’t have to weigh us down. My experience with my mother taught me that regrets can be reframed and even embraced to foster growth, healing, and compassion. Whether it’s a relationship with a parent, friend, or anyone else, we have the power to transform our regrets into wisdom. By doing so, we create space for forgiveness and love, not just for others, but for ourselves.

In the end, perhaps that’s the greatest lesson regret offers: a chance to become better, more compassionate human beings.