I wasn't there for my mom

I messed up. I really messed up. My mom needed me, and I wasn't there. It's been eating me alive for years, and I don't know how to make it better. She's gone now, so I can't even apologize.

She got sick, pretty suddenly. Cancer. It went from 'we caught it early' to 'it's everywhere' in what felt like a blink. I was in college, two states away. I told myself I couldn't afford to come home all the time. That my grades would suffer. That I had to focus on my future. All excuses.

I visited, sure. For holidays, for a long weekend here and there. I called sometimes. But I wasn't *there*. Not really. My sister, bless her heart, she took on everything. Driving Mom to appointments, making sure she ate, just…being there. I'd call and ask how things were, and she'd always say, 'We're managing.' She never complained, never made me feel guilty. Maybe she should have.

Mom tried to be strong, too. She'd put on a brave face when I visited, try to laugh and joke like everything was normal. But I could see it in her eyes. The fear. The exhaustion. The disappointment, maybe. I hate that I didn't do more to help her. I could've taken a semester off. I could've gotten a different job, one that allowed me to be closer to home. I could've, should've, would've.

Now she's gone. And all I have are these regrets. This heavy weight on my chest that I can't seem to shake. I miss her so much. I miss her laugh, her advice, her hugs. I miss the way she always knew how to make me feel better, even when I didn't deserve it. I wish I could tell her I'm sorry. Sorry for not being a better son. Sorry for not being there when she needed me most.

I don't know what to do with this guilt. I try to be a better person now, to be more present for the people I care about. But it's not the same. It doesn't bring her back. I just hope, somehow, she knows that I loved her. And that I'm so, so sorry.