I'm sorry she never got to meet my brother-in-law Jim, or my brother's second wife Charity, or the three grandchildren that have come into the family since she died.
I'm sorry she didn't see me get ordained as an elder.
I'm sorry she never read the Harry Potter books, or the Starbridge novels, or any of countless other books I've read and thought she would enjoy.
I'm sorry I never got to talk to her about and convince her to watch Buffy.
I'm sorry she never got to see me sing with the Cathedral Choral Society.
I'm sorry I didn't get to tell her about the statue of Strom Thurmond on the grounds of the South Carolina state capitol, or the statue of James K. Polk at the North Carolina capitol.
I'm sorry she didn't get to see a Democrat elected Governor of Illinois for the first time in 25 years.
And, jeez, hundreds if not thousands of other things. Basically, what it boils down to is that I'm sorry she's not still alive, because I miss her more than I know how to say.