je ne regrette rien…

Yesterday, I spent the afternoon in the shadow of the Mormon temple where I married nearly 20 years ago and where, after that, I returned almost-weekly to perform ritual ordinances. I had some time to think about that place and what it meant to me then, to think about the areas of that building where memorable events occurred, to think about my own naivete. And also my hope. I married just a few years after finishing my cancer treatments. It seemed that my life was so precious and so fragile. I wanted so much to love and be loved (as I still do).  I threw myself into my marriage with that intention.

Later in the evening I ate dinner in an intimate french cafe, where the charming proprietor picked up the mic and sang popular french songs as we all lingered over our meals. Of course Piaf is so quintessentially french to me now, she’s almost over-the-top cliche. But every time I hear “Non, je ne regrette rien,” I feel the power of the words once again…as I did last night.

There’s been some times since my divorce that I did have regrets: that I was angry and felt that I’d chosen wrong or had failed to see clearly what was happening right in front of my eyes. But at the same time…I loved fiercely. I was honest and I gave everything I could to that relationship. I’d like to think that that’s the kind of person that I continue to be now, too (though perhaps a bit more careful or guarded after having been hurt). I’m committed to living my life sans regrets, and to being generous with both my past and my present self.

Last night she was so beautiful as she sang, tilting her head back, closing her eyes and losing herself in the music.  Though I don’t sing, if I did I would like to think that I could sing that song as she did, or as Edith did.  Feeling it with every fibre of myself and knowing that it was true for me, too.