Living With Regrets

My sister just called me at work and told me that Grandma died this morning.  It's too late now to tell her how much she meant to me and how I always loved her.  Grandma was always special to me, even if she wasn't really the same Grandmother in real life as she was in my memories.  I know that our family didn't just get screwed up in my generation.  This is something that has been handed down through the generations - and I know my Grandmother did unspeakable things to her children like my mother did to me.  Somewhere along the line my Grandmother is at least partially to blame for my own mother being so screwed up.  Don't we have such a lovely family?

However, I have very fond memories of my Grandmother and times we spent together. I have two of her paintings hanging in my house.  I have all of her letters and the birthday cards she sent to me when I was a kid.  I will miss her even though the last time I talked to her was 16 years ago.  Where did the time go?  When Grandma fell and was placed in the hospital I was making arrangements to fly out to see her.  It was only after numerous calls that I found out my family didn't want me there.  I should have stood up to them and insisted they let me see her.  Why did I listen to them?  I shouldn't have caved in to the pressure, curled in a ball and felt sorry for myself.  I should have done what I knew was right and to hell with what everyone else thought.  I could have made this right...
but now it's too late.