I’ve lived a very spoiled life. Up until yesterday my regrets have been about clothes, weight, silly fights, and everything else that barely matters to me now. My grandmother died yesterday. I haven’t lived in Bangladesh for almost 20 years. I basically grew up abroad, and only saw my grandmother when she came to visit us twice, and also once when I went back to visit. I did love her.Alot. But it was one of those things, I never called her except for the “How are you calls?”, and just assumed she’d always be there. She has been sick the past year, and I knew, but after the first few times I called her, her being sick became normal, and I didn’t call anymore. I was busy with the life over here. So when my mom called me Thursday night and said, your grandmothers very sick, I replied with a “She’ll be fine, she’s strong, she will be ok”. The next day I get a call saying her heart gave out. Yesterday I realized what real regret is about, because there really is nothing you can take back or change, and all you are left with is regret for something you could’ve done, but chose not to. This past January, my parents went back for a month. They offered to pay for my ticket so I can see her. I wanted to go too. I had the vacation days. But my husband didn’t. And I am traditional at heart. I was concerned about what my family and in-laws would think of me going back to BD for the first time after getting married without my husband. I wanted to do it properly. So we decided this December would be it. Because at that time, my husband’s brother can go too, and it will be a family trip. But I never looked at it like god giving me a sign, my vacation days needed to be taken in January, the money was taken care of, all I had to do was board that plane. But I chose not to. I chose to make other plans, my perfect plans, the way I wanted my BD trip, the way I thought it should be…. And in my plans I forgot to include the most important thing of all, will my grandmother be alive when I go? In my mind, that was a given. She’s part of the Bangladesh picture I keep inside my head, my grandmother in her house just waiting. She was a constant. I never thought a day would come that she wouldn’t be there when I go. I am having a really hard time accepting this. The last time a family member died was my 21 year old cousin. Whose death taught me to live life to the fullest. He was someone who spent his whole life talking about how he would do the things he enjoys tomorrow, now was the time for hard work. He worked, saved, studied. When I asked him, why don’t you do this or that, he always said, “I have time”. He didn’t. With this death I learned the real meaning of regret for the choices we make. Because there’s no way I can ever turn back time and say I’m sorry I didn’t call you, I’m sorry I didn’t come and that I miss you.