For some, regrets hit like hailstones immediately after losing a spouse; for others, they fall like a heavy mist after the storm of the first few days has passed, shrouding our sorrow with more pain. Whenever they come, they fill our heads, repeatedly scraping our souls. Words spoken or left unspoken; actions taken or left undone. We thrash ourselves, and guilt adds weight to our already heavy burden.

Sometimes regrets come in the form of “if only’s.” If only I had known he wasn’t taking his medicine…if only I hadn’t made her mad…if only I had stayed at home with him…if only I had noticed she wasn’t feeling well…if only I had gone instead of asking him to go…. We try to silence the words, but they refuse to the shushed.

How can we live with our guilt? If we could only ask our spouse for forgiveness, doubtless we would be absolved. But our spouse is gone, and we can’t ask the question. But wait, perhaps we can. Why not sit by the grave or hold the urn and quietly confess our regrets and ask for pardon? While we may not hear an audible reply, we may feel it in our heart.

We must also forgive ourselves. We are imperfect human beings living in a chaotic world. We all make mistakes, and we need to be cautious about condemning ourselves more severely than we deserve.

And then, we need to adopt Reinhold Niebuhr’s serenity prayer, “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” What’s past is past, and we should let go of our regrets and replace them with happier memories—a stroll in a summer shower, the exchange of loving glances, the shared beauty of a field of wildflowers. After all, isn’t that how our spouses would want us to remember them?