Tell your story #15: The Last Breath: A Lesson in Love and Regret"?

I’ll never forget the day I watched my great-grandmother take her last breath. We never really got along, though I couldn't understand why. She was 89 years old, a woman who had lived through so much, and maybe in her eyes, I was just a small part of her long, winding story.

She spent her days outside, sitting by a guava tree from morning until evening. She’d dance like a child, laugh at silly things, and give advice that was both strange and frightening, but always laced with humor. Whenever I brought her food, she’d complain that I’d put soil in it. She’d only say it to me, never anyone else, and I never knew why. It frustrated me at the time.

One day, she stopped sitting outside and said she was sick. But she didn’t look sick—she still seemed like herself, strong in her own way. I brought her some water, and as I entered the room, my grandmother, her daughter, was there too. Then suddenly, everything changed. She began to breathe differently, each gasp of air sounding like a struggle. Her eyes, once full of life, slowly turned upward, staring at the ceiling. My grandmother told me to leave the room, but it was too late. I had already seen everything.

I wasn’t ready for it. In those few moments, I realized how much I wished things had been different between us. I regretted the distance between us, the silly misunderstandings, and the times I felt frustrated when she accused me of things that weren’t true. In that room, where she left this world, I was filled with fear and sadness.

But over time, I had to face what happened. I had to go back into that room, to realize it wasn’t the room itself that was scary—it was the regret, the unspoken words, the feelings I never expressed. I learned that life is too short to let small things drive wedges between us. She may have been difficult, but she was a part of my family, a part of me, and I wish I had shown her more love while I had the chance.

Her death was a turning point for me. It made me understand that relationships, even the strained ones, are precious. It’s easy to be caught up in frustration or misunderstandings, but it’s much harder to carry regret. In the end, I learned that forgiveness and love are more important than anything else—because when someone is gone, you’re left with the memories, and how you wish you had made more of them count.