You read biographies and the accounts of palliative care nurses. You talk to your grandparents, and their friends, and your parents, and their friends, and old people at the bus stop, and basically anyone who looks like they’ve not got much time left.
You fill a book with their regrets. You carry it everywhere. You know the most common off by heart. So you studiously keep in touch with old friends. You turn down promotions for more time off. You savour the little things. You have ‘no regrets’ tattooed on the back of your hand, so you’ll never forget.
You do regret that one sometimes… but only sometimes.
You make it your life’s mission to foil regret. To ensure that you die with a smile on your lips. Your life is satisfying, and full, and when the time comes, you are surrounded by loved ones.
You open your lips for the last time, and sigh out ‘I regret… not making more cat macros.’
Everything starts to go dim, just as a last thought passes through your mind.
Damn. ‘Puns’ would have been much better.