Let’s be honest, when you stay with us, it is not because you’ve always dreamt of coming to recover or receive care. What we offer here my friend, is without a doubt a full-blown grudge purchase. I know people would much rather spend their time walking a Camino or spend their money on a new I-pad. Yet, here they are, painfully learning to walk again, saying their goodbyes or recovering from a tummy tuck which was much more painful than anyone let on.
And so, in the course of the day, we hear the word “sorry” all the time. I’m so sorry you are in pain. I am so sorry this catheter is blocked. I’m sorry it hurts. I’m terribly sorry for your loss. I’m sorry I parked so badly. I’m sorry that even after all these years, I can not spell nausea or diarrhoea or suppository right the first time. It is a sorry state of affairs here (pun intended).
I feel frustrated by the phrase, “I’m sorry” , because how can we use the same sentiment when we bump into someone on the patio, but also when someone has lost the love of their life and their world will never be the same again? How can one sentence be simultaneously so terribly insignificant and so gravely important?
I listened to Andy Stanley explain how to apologise, and the first rule is, if you apologise and then add an explanation, it is no longer an apology. It is simply an excuse. So if you say “Sorry… but I didn’t realise it would upset you,” or “ Sorry for being late, but you know the traffic in Joburg…” it is not really an apology. According to Stanley, you need to say sorry, shut up, own it and be accountable.
After reading up about it, I actually don’t think we should use the word “sorry” for insignificant bumping into someone or spilling a glass of water. Sorry is actually a hectic word. It comes from the Old English word “sarig” meaning “deeply grieved, filled with sorrow and utterly distressed.” We tend to overuse the word “sorry,” but at least not as much as the Canadians. In Canada, they say sorry for everything all the time, to the extent that in 2009, a law was passed known as the “apology act” to clarify that when saying “sorry”, it is not automatically a legal admission of guilt or liability.
The word “apology” came from the notion of defending yourself, but over the centuries, it has become a way to show regret. My favourite apology is a Japanese one which is judged by the depth of your bow. If you just casually regret something, you do a little 15’ bow. If it is a formal apology, you go in for a 30’, and if it is a serious mistake, you bend it all the way to 45’. If you really messed up, you go all the way onto your knees.
My challenge to myself this week, is to not use the word sorry at all. I am going to say “Pardon me” when I cannot hear what dear Mr Green mumbles to me after he has had his pain meds and is seconds away from falling asleep. When I need to pass some walker balancing on crutches, I’ll rather say, “Excuse me.”
When I bump or scratch the car (which I do almost every week at some stage) I’ll say to my long-suffering husband: “I apologise”. And that will be all. No explanation or justification will follow. I’ll say “Forgive me, please” whenI forget I have an appointment with the rep who is desperately trying to get us to change suppliers and buy rubber gloves from her. I refuse to say “my bad” though. I am not, and hope never to be, that woke (or that bad).
But, this is what I find interesting: the reason we say “I am sorry” in western societies when talking to someone after a tragedy is because we struggle when it comes to “unfixable problems”. We almost say “I’m sorry” by default to acknowledge another person’s pain, loss or frustration, and as a way to show them we care, because there is nothing we can do to change the situation. It is maybe our only way to acknowledge the weight of the situation and possibly admit our own powerlessness to help.
This morning, a 50 year old man in room 17 passed away. It was expected, but we all thought he had a bit more time. His wife was dropping their children at school when it happened. I know I will have to talk to them today and I am only too well aware that my words can not reduce their loss. While I’m typing the blog, I can hear the voice of a 30-year-old woman with triple-negative breast cancer. She is sitting in the sun, fighting the vicious ways chemo has attacked her body, mourning the fact that she won’t ever have children. I also hear the voices of two Zambian sisters. One is here to assist her twin, who is learning to walk again after a stroke left her hemiplegic. She is a horse rider who is unlikely to get onto a horse again. My spoken sentiments will never be sufficient to lessen their pain, physically or emotionally, no matter what I say. This is simply too much pressure on the spoken word, never mind a two-syllable word.
Writing this today taught me that I actually never knew what the word “condolences” means and therefore, have never used it. Well, that is about to change. Condolences means, “I grieve or suffer with you”. And is that not really the best we can do? To just be there, show up and carry the burden with the person? I love that the Italians say, “I am close to you”. The Russians keep it short and sweet with “My condolences.” The French say, “I share your pain.” The Spanish say “I share your feeling,” and even the Germans, with their stony hearts, say “ I feel with you.” The Chinese say – get ready for this – “Restrain your grief and accept fate” or “Please restrain your grief.” In other Asian cultures people say “I hope you will be able to move on,” or “I hope you can come to terms with your fate.” The Aboriginal culutures call this “sorry business” and gather together and have grief circles, smoking ceremonies, storytelling and rituals to support each other.
In the end, I reckon it is not about what words you choose, not just because they fail us anyway, but because that is not what matters in the end. Maybe our role is to bear witness, give an awkward hug, simply be present, be that love in action. It is okay if we fumble through the wrong words if we stand in the brokenness with our loved ones, choose to stay and accept that we can not fix the unfixable, but are brave enough to sit with someone in their sorrow.