Masks by Shel Silverstein

Came across this yesterday. How apt.

I think back to all things I wish I had done, of all the things I wished I had said. Of all the things I wished were understood the way I meant them to be.

Instead, misunderstandings, accidental tragic coincidences, words once spoken and deeds once done, whether in anger or spite or just common ordinary things, all leading to sadness and lost connections and pain.

I hope it was felt both ways. But if it was, then it makes the absence even more painful.

Sometimes choices lead us to a beautiful path and a wonderful place of respite. Sometimes it feels like a charred, blackened, barren land. In the latter situation, it's painful to think that the other party may never see or ever felt that the alternative was always possible.