No regrets. My youngest daughter celebrated her 16th birthday today. I consider my parental responsibilities fully discharged. — Don't ask me if I think I was a good father.
When moral philosophers talk of guilt and regret, they are not describing anything in my experience. I've been made to feel guilty by crippled manipulators who could find no other way to make up for their own inadequacy; by bombastic pedants and critics with hypertrophied moral consciences but my conscience is clear. I feel the tug of sentiment but that is something different (as moral philosophers are all-too ready to remind you). You can be sentimental and thoroughly evil.
Well, it's good to be thoroughly something, most of the people you meet are so half-baked. I am not half-baked. That's something to be proud of. I reside in the truth. Where I stand there is no room for doubt or uncertainty.
As I gird on my armour, squinting in the sunlight, I feel a sense of lightness, the slightest nudge and I would begin to float. I am floating. Bathed in warmth, waiting to be born. Indeed! The weight of years is falling away at long last. The harsh twine around my wrists and ankles has withered away, the soreness almost healed. The memories are less painful than they were. A dull ache, the occasional pang. The incidents in my oddly uneventful life are laid out as in a comic strip no lurid colours, just tasteful shades of grey. It was meant to be. Now, to business. There's a whiff of carnage in the air. The breeze from the future. But nothing is certain, my dear Mersault. Only that battle will be joined, and many will die under my sword... before I fall!