I cancelled the visit because I wanted one weekend to myself

Dear Delyara, My grandmother raised me from the age of six. In the final year of her life, she lived three hours away in a nursing home. I visited most weekends. One Friday, I was tired. My friends had planned a trip, and I thought one missed visit would not matter. I called Grandma and said I had a cold. She told me to rest and said, “Next week, then.” She died on Sunday night. Everyone reminds me of the hundreds of weekends I did go. I remember only the one I chose not to. My friends have stopped telling me the trip was not my fault because regret is not interested in fairness. I remember laughing in a restaurant on Saturday while my phone sat in my bag. There were no missed calls. No warning. Nothing dramatic to punish me in advance. That almost makes it worse. Grandma did not die begging for me. She simply died believing next week existed. I had spent years arranging my life around caring for her, and the one weekend I took back for myself became the last chance I did not know I was spending.