One of my regrets in life, and there's not been many, was when I popped in to see a very good mate, Jake, who was a full blown Ashfield Hell's Angel. He was very well known and respected throughout the country, as hard as they come.
He worked for Raleigh finance company, doing motor bike repossessions, and had just taken in a big Kawasaki I'd agreed to buy. I showed up, at his house, and he wasn't his usual self so, of course, i asked what his problem was. He said his old mam had just died so I trotted out some predictable drivel about 'being sorry to hear that mate' and got straight back to business.
It didn't strike me how much the bloke was hurting until I lost my own Mam. Then it was too late and I couldn't go back to him to say anything worthwhile. I saw him as a big scary monster but he was still a bairn to his mam and she was everything to him.
I always wished I could've said what I felt but I didn't even mention it when my Mam passed away. I was too much of a coward and didn't want to hear him being compassionate towards me when I'd skipped over his loss like it was nothing.
Death of a loved one is never easy regardless of how tough we believe ourselves to be.