Regrets, I’ve had a few

We all have those moments in our life that we wish we could take back. We wish we had made a different decision, walked down a different street, left words unsaid.

Maybe George Michael the best when he wrote “Turn a different corner and we never would have met.”

Certainly in my life there are events and decisions (and people!) I look back on and regret. At the same time, would I take them back? Because every decision – even the wrong ones – has led me to where I am now and I’m actually pretty happy with where I’ve ended up.

(Maybe that’s the benefit of being a middle-aged Gen X? We had pretty low expectations to start with. After all, growing up during the Cold War with the constant threat of nuclear annihilation meant a lot of of us probably didn’t think we’d get to this age in the first place.)

But there are certain points in my life I think back on and I would take back.

In this case, I’m not thinking about a person, I’m thinking about a specific decision I made.

Let’s go back in time 10 years. (Cue wobbly time travel special visual effects…)

My father is dying, but he is dying slowly. My sisters and my brother are working and trying to divide their nonworking time between looking after my mother and visiting with my father in the care home as well as managing all the other things going on in their own lives. They are all tired and stressed out while I’m living in another country with no care responsibilities.

I decide what I want to do is go back for a month to give them all a bit of a break and take on some of the care and also spend time with my father because we know his time is running out.

I put in request for a month of unpaid leave. In my request, I have to put a great deal of personal information about my family, about my parents’ health and the whole situation to justify why I would like unpaid leave to return to my home country and help with parental care.

My request is rejected. HR say it’s not worth the paperwork for unpaid leave of less then three months.

My team leader breaks the news to me and is apologetic and says he can give me six days of special family leave but the rest has to come from my annual leave allocation.

I return my desk about to start work again. But a huge anger rises up through me, that kind of mute rage at a situation so unfair, and something I can’t fight back against. (The blank non-face of “HR”.) I smack my hand really hard onto the desk then stomp off to sit in the toilet and cry for 10 minutes.

Forward a few weeks and i have booked flights, I am ready to go home. I am tidying up my work because I’m going to be away for a month. There’s a project approval that needs to be finalised. I’ve done what I can on Friday but there are still some people that need to give input before the document deadline on Tuesday.

My line manager says, “Look, this thing is nearly finished. It doesn’t make sense for someone else to pick it up now. As you’ll be at your sister’s place, can you just login on Monday or Tuesday to finalise the document?”

How did I respond to that?

Did I say, “You’ve got to be ****ing kidding?” or “Get stuffed” or “Sod off” or even a more polite “No. My priority at this time is my family.”

I said none of that.

I logged in on my annual leave when I could have and should have been spending more time with my dying father. Instead I spent several hours working finalising that document. I prioritised work above my family.

I didn’t know at that time, but my father was only going to be with us for one more week so what time was available for me to spend with him really was precious.

For years after, when this project was mentioned, and someone asked when it was approved, I would answer “October 2014.”

“Wow, you have a good memory,” people would say.

What I never added but should have was, “Yes, I remember it well. I was working on that instead of being with my dying father.”

Dear readers, that decision I made – to prioritise work – is something I regret and something I would go back and change.