Regret tonight

      You don't read this blog. Or maybe you do.
      I wouldn't expect you to. You've gone on to a new love. Or maybe not.
      You see, I don't know. We haven't spoken in a long time. But tonight I was listening to the radio, and a song played that made me think of you. I know it's a cliche, and we both hate cliches. It wasn't even a song that I can remember us listening to, but it reminded me of when we were together.
      Somehow, maybe because of all this time in between, I can mostly remember only the good. The bad ending doesn't seem so bad now. Funny, huh?
      For a moment, I indulged myself. I thought of what I should have said, what I should have done, how I could have made things work out differently. I like to think that if I had known how much I would miss you, miss your wit, your smile, your wisdom, that if I had known, I would have been smarter. I would have made the right decisions that would have kept us together, would have kept our love growing despite all the things against it.
      I know better, of course.
      I know that nothing is served by this look at the past.
      We made mistakes. We paid for them. It's different now. We're different now. And we can't go back.
      But I wanted to say -- even though you'll never read this or if you do, I won't ever know -- that you're remembered with love. That I regret losing you. But I won't ever regret knowing you.
      The song ended. I have work to do.

All alone I came into this world
All alone I will someday die
Solid stone is just sand and water, baby,
Sand and water, and a million years gone by.

I will see you in the light of a thousand suns
I will hear you in the sound of the waves
I will know you when I come, as we all will come
Through the doors beyond the grave.

All alone I came into the world
All alone I will someday die
Solid stone is just sand and water, baby,
Sand and water, and a million years gone by.

By Beth Nielsen Chapman and Bill Lloyd
from the CD sand and water