PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

That’s all that’s left.  Pitiful for a life of so many years.  His final weeks had been humiliating, degrading, miserable.  She wished she could have changed that.

‘But you could have,’ an accusing voice whispered.  Guilt burned her soul.  ‘Would it have been so difficult to visit more often?  He was always so thrilled to see you; his withered face brightened at the prospect of a couple of hours’ company.  Weary, when you left, but rejuvenated, contented.  Selflessly, he never expected anything from you.  He accepted his lot without complaint.  Too late to change anything now. 

I’m so sorry, Dad.

Word Count: 100

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

35 thoughts on “Regrets

        • Clare Hempstead says:

          Fortunately, I got mum and dad talking about their lives a few years ago and wrote it down. Some of it is fascinating – My Dad’s Great Great (possibly one more Great!) Grandfather was once arrested on suspicion of being Jack the Ripper! He was a butcher on Whitechapel Road, London and was walking home with a bloodied apron!


    • Clare Hempstead says:

      Sorry, it affected you this way. My dad passed in August 2017. I live over a hundred miles away, but now I feel that was a pathetic excuse not to have gone more often. I’m not making the same mistake with my mum – it’s knackering, but she needs support.

      Liked by 2 people

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