Before Dying

No, I wouldn’t say I regret anything. It’s been a decent enough life, such as it was… and who knows, I may have another ten, twenty years ahead of me? And there’s plenty to keep me busy in the meantime, I mean I have my rock collection to polish, I have my walks out in the country, and Angelica still remembers her old father every once in a while. Of course things are a little weird between us after her mother lefts and took her away, but she still calls every once in a while. Lets me know how school’s going, sends me a Christmas card at the end of the year… wants do be a dermatologist, did I tell you? So she’s studying biology now, planning on applying to medical school in a year or two, I know I never could’ve done that — the body gives me the heebie-jeebies — so I really admire anyone who can stand learning that kind of thing, helping people that way.

I’m very proud of her, and I think she knows it.

God only knows what her mother told her about me. I… I try not to be bitter. I loved that woman. Worked and slaved away ten years of my life to please her, just hoping something would be good enough for her. But no, you go out and pour your life’s blood the whole livelong day, and then it’s “So how was work?” when the last thing on God’s green earth you want to talk about is work. Or if it’s not that it’s “You never say anything interesting when you get home,” well if that’s not the biggest conversation killer there’s ever been I don’t know what is. Or it’s “Well aren’t you getting chubby?” Well, at the time I didn’t think I was, but I haven’t stepped on a scale in years, and anyway a man needs a little comfort in this life.

I tried to make her happy, I really did. But I swear that woman was born to suck the life out of men, and so after ten years of my life I found out the woman was — all along, mind you — she was…

Well anyway, she left and took Angelica with her.

I try not to be bitter. I know how it might sound, what I just said, and God knows I’m not perfect, but some things just don’t go away. Maybe I am a little bitter… can you blame me?

So no, I wouldn’t say I regret anything. Disappointed, maybe. You know all the silly dreams you have when you’re young, when your eyes are bright and new and open, so of course you think the world is bright, new, and open. They tell you stories of explorers discovering America, heroes battling Hell itself to hold off the end of the world, or geniuses who pour their full essences into understanding nature’s secrets. The world’s a space of possibility, you think, and of course you’ll be one of those heroes too. You have it in you, they tell you you have it in you, you’re so sure you have it in you, to be a titan, to discover your own America…

To let loose what you’ve always held back.

Then all of a sudden you have a mortgage payment, a kid, a wife, the whole time working the kind of job you’ve had nightmares about ever since you were old enough to ask, “Daddy, where is it you go all day?” And you see the kind of narrow contentment you’ve slotted yourself into, where you make the bosses rich for eighty hours a week so you can spend one week out of the year in Vegas or Disneyland trying to pretend it’s all worth it. Pretend you don’t daydream every single day that you’ll slit that woman’s throat and run somewhere, it doesn’t matter where, as long as it’s not on any map. Pretend you’re happy with that contented life that satisfies exactly none of your instincts.

And then she divorces you, so you have alimony payments in the bargain!

So… regret? Maybe I have some regrets. All the typical, obvious things. Never took my life in my hands. Never faced the truth as long as I could avoid it. Never… never… ugh, never accepted the past and moved on.

And now it’s time.

And this was my life. God…

Maybe it won’t always be this way.

Just yesterday, I was collecting rocks by the lake. One of those artificial lakes the TVA made with dams back in the New Deal days. So much effort, I thought, so much effort went into building that dam. And so much effort still goes into maintaining it. All that thought and effort and engineering, all the families driven from their lands, all to make this lake. All to hold back the weight of water.

But the water wants to flow freely.

One day it will flow freely.

Maybe it won’t always be this way.