My son won the lottery, kicked me out of the house, and said: “You’re worthless! Go live in a nursing home.” I wandered aimlessly to clear my mind. When I sat down on a bench, a homeless man walked up to me, smiled, and said: “You look just like my late wife…”

We’d decided to renew our wedding vows the following month, a small ceremony with just a few friends from the boarding house and Sarah as our witness. After everything we’d been through, we wanted to officially reclaim our commitment to each other.

“Any regrets?” Blaine asked, reaching across the table to take my hand.

I thought about the question seriously. We’d lost 15 years that we could never get back. We’d missed anniversaries and birthdays, holidays, and ordinary Tuesday evenings. We’d suffered loneliness and grief that had been completely unnecessary.

Richard had stolen not just our money but our time. And time was the one thing no court settlement could restore.Browse Reference

But sitting there with my husband in our own home with our future spread out before us like a gift we’d never expected to receive, I realized that regret was a luxury I couldn’t afford.