When the phone call came from my daughter Saturday night, I picked up my phone expecting an update on the viral infection that kept her in bed this past week. Instead, I heard the news that my former sister-in-law, Sharon had passed away. A fall last week resulted in a broken neck, and now sadly, in her death.

Sharon and I had been married to two brothers. We were work out buddies for years and supported each other. Her husband passed away from cancer nineteen years ago and my husband and I separated a year later. After the separation, I had to face the end of a twenty-year marriage, and the effects of the separation on my children. I no longer had the strength to support her at a time when my emotional reserves were tapped out. When we would run into each other in the small town we lived in, she would encourage me to stop by for a visit. Various excuses tripped off my tongue. They carried a kernel of truth. But I did not have the heart to tell her I needed space.

After Brandi and I began dating, I was afraid to spend time with her and tell her my truth. I was dating a woman and saw us having a future together. Sharon had grown up with a father who was a Bible Belt minister with very conservative views. Being vulnerable and coming out to Sharon was scary. Despite the space I needed, I valued our relationship and her opinion of me.

So, here is my truth again. My fear enabled me to walk away from a relationship without attempting to repair it. I was afraid to look into Sharon’s eyes and see the hurt I had caused. I was afraid to learn that my apology to her would not be accepted. I was afraid to be vulnerable. And despite everything, I thought there would be time to screw up my courage and risk that vulnerability. But I let time run out. I will live with that regret for the rest of my life.

If this blog is my opportunity to be a truth-telling warrior, then there it is. For all my talk about wanting to be authentic and brave, I get scared. And I have regrets about not stepping into the arena and being more honest with my story. But this is honest. And it is my hope that my honesty will allow you, my dear readers, to be self-compassionate. For we all have moments (or years or decades) of being afraid, and regretting the things we did not do because the voice of fear is shouting in our ears. So, I ask you to reflect… what would you do if you were not afraid? What relationship would you try to heal? What truth would you tell? Who would you be?