I still feel guilty

It's been, like, ten years, maybe more. I was in college, and my grandma was getting really old. She lived alone, and I was the only one in the family who bothered to visit her regularly. I mean, it wasn't a hardship; she made the best cookies. But I always rushed the visits. Homework, parties, whatever stupid thing I thought was more important at the time.

She kept saying she wanted to tell me something important. Every single visit. And I'd smile and pat her hand and say, "Later, Grandma. I gotta run!" Then, she died. A week later. And I never knew what she wanted to say. Now, I'm just sitting here thinking about her cookies. And it hits me that those were the best times, and I blew them. I'm an idiot. I really wish I could go back. I should have listened. I feel so bad.