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The thing is, Regis was Cid’s only real regret. Regis had been like a son to him, so young and hot headed, so like Cor, like Cid when he'd been in his prime. They'd been through so much together and, in the end, the old man let his temper win. They argued and, sure, they made up over paper, but he never did see Regis again, not in person, not in any way that mattered . After hearing the news, he'd retreated into the garage, leaving Cindy to break with the business. He listened to the radio, brought out a bottle of the good stuff, and wept in a way he hadn't since Cindy became the last of his family. She couldn't help him, either. She didn't understand. So, she called someone who did.
Cor showed up at one point, offering a bottle of his own, and commiserated with the old man, shedding tears of his own. Then, Altissia was leveled, Weskham caught in the path of Leviathan’s wrath, and they mourned again. Cid had lost too many and so he made Cor promise him, made him promise he wouldn't go the way of Regis and Clarus and Weskham and wouldn't die before the old man. And Cor kept his promise. He visited Cid in the decade of darkness, almost as much to reassure himself as he did for Cid. He was there for the old man when Noctis followed in his father's footsteps, grieving for lost youth and the unfairness of it all, how the elderly had to bury the young.
Cid followed a year later, witnessing Cor become the uncrowned king of the people, and when he found himself on the other side, all his tears and his pain went away. Before him stood Regis, young and happy and full of life, and beside him, Noctis. The grief Cid had felt, mourning for lives cut short, was forgotten in the presence of father and son, and Cid made his way with them, more than ready for the beginning of the rest of his life in the beyond.