Twelve years. Twelve years it’s taken me to finally believe I couldn’t have prevented my friend's death. For so long, my mind replayed the same painful questions: What if I had noticed sooner? What if I had said the right thing? What if I had done something—anything—differently?
The "If Only" weight sat heavily on my chest, a constant whisper of regret, guilt, and unfinished conversations. Through therapy, I've been working on accepting the past—not trying to rewrite it. My head has known for years that it wasn't my fault. But only now is my heart beginning to catch up.
I wrote this poem about "If Only" and the shift that's finally happening in me:
If Only
"If Only"—he's a sneak,
He creeps up on me,
Whispering of chances missed,
And moments best undone.
He plants guilt in my heart,
And stirs anger toward others.
"If Only"—he's a thief,
He steals my joy and energy.
But I've had enough.
I refuse to sit with "If Only" any longer.
I'm showing him the door—
Inviting in "Maybe" instead.
"Maybe" is different entirely.
He brings curiosity and possibility,
A glimpse of what could be.
He opens new doors,
And lets hope take root.
I'm sure "If Only" visits you, too.
We all know regret,
And life's disappointments.
But why not join me?
Let's say goodbye to "If Only"—
And welcome in "Maybe".
Dr. Edith Eger, a Holocaust survivor and psychologist, writes about the need to release the hope that the past could be different. She reminds us that we can't change what happened but can change how we carry it.
Here's what I'm learning as I reflect on her words and slowly let go of the past:
Acceptance
Healing doesn't come from wishing things had been different. It begins with acknowledging that the past cannot be changed.
Reframing
Instead of dwelling on what could have been different, I can shift my perspective: Maybe my love and friendship mattered more than I will ever know. Maybe I did the best I could with what I knew then. Maybe my experience will make the future better for me and others.
Forgiveness
I forgive others and myself for what I didn't know or couldn't do. As Dr. Eger profoundly states:
"To forgive is to grieve—for what happened, for what didn't happen—and to give up the need for a different past."
Choice
I have power now, no matter what happened before. I get to choose how I live now. And I choose to honour my friend's life, not by carrying guilt, but by living with more compassion—for myself and others.
Dr. Eger, again:
"The only place where we can exercise our freedom of choice is in the present."
Permitting Myself to Move Forward
If you've ever carried "If Only"—whether it's over a loss, a mistake, or a past you wish you could rewrite—know this: You are allowed to leave it behind. You did the best you could with what you knew at the time. And that is enough.
My journey isn't over. Some days, "If Only" still knocks at my door. But I no longer invite him in to stay. Instead, I'm making space for "Maybe."
If we meet, I hope I listen well. I hope I make space for your story, just as I'm learning to hold space for my own.
I remember working with you soon after this time. You gave of yourself to others, supported others always and cared for the people in your service. The toll of keeping going after such trauma must have been intense (can't comprehend how it could have been). The way you are sharing your experiences now is inspirational and your art is so accessible to all. I hope this is a good week.
Very profound. You've come a long way. Maybe I will too. Thanks.