Pouring each of us a glass of wine, I start our usual early evening debriefing session by telling my husband about a conversation I had with my brother over the phone that day. Surprised, my husband exclaimed, “Did you guys apologise to each other and make peace?” I looked at him, puzzled and took a sip of my wine, trying to figure out what he was referring to. The argument with my brother a few days before started to register in my mind. “It wasn’t such a big deal”, I explained. “We both forgot about it and just carried on as if nothing happened”. Somewhat astonished, my husband started to reflect on the Fourie-family fights he had witnessed since he had known me and said: “I’m sorry, but you and your family have a warped idea of apologising”. Taken aback, I immediately wanted to defend the ways of the house I grew up in, but in the back of my mind, I wondered: Why is he sorry? Was it because he felt he was insulting me or because I come from a family where people don’t apologise?
Oh, it seems to me, sorry, seems to be the hardest word. – Elton John
The Fourie family seldom apologise to each other after an argument. The ones who argue will go their separate ways to cool down, and after some time (this time lapse depends on how angry one is and how desperately one needs something from the person one is fighting with), one will strike up a casual conversation with the other party as if nothing happened. This conversation on a frivolous topic, like the weather or the dog’s latest shenanigans, will start stutteringly and quite painfully, but both know there is no way of taking back what was said and soon the conversation will begin to flow. I’m not sure why we do this. Maybe we learnt it from my dad, who isn’t great at admitting when he is wrong. When we were still living with my parents, he made peace after an argument by calling us to help him with something in the garden. Or perhaps it’s because we know that it’s not saying the word “sorry” out loud that counts but rather everything that is left unsaid that matters. My mother used to tell my brother and me that it didn’t help that we stayed angry with each other. She taught us that we are bound by blood and should always be in each other’s corners. And so, we will let go of what we are fighting about because we know as a family, we should be there for each other through thick and thin.
Please forgive me, I don’t know what I do. Please forgive me, I can’t stop loving you – Bryan Adams
My husband is a master apologiser. He utters the words “I’m sorry” easily, sometimes even when it’s unnecessary. While enjoying my glass of wine, I wondered if he sometimes almost apologises for his existence or if it is a manipulation tactic to say and do what he wants. He also graciously accepts an apology when it is offered. As if “sorry” is a magic word, he swiftly moves on from an argument when he hears it and never keeps score.
My husband was getting into the swing of the debate. “You never accept an apology when it is offered”, he accused me while opening another bottle of wine. He is right, I thought. I find it very difficult. It doesn’t make me feel better when someone tells me how sorry they are. “Sorry” is such an easy word to say. A word that most people believe absolves them of the wrong that has been done. I’d much rather see a changed attitude or a plan to make things right than hear the word “sorry”. Harsh? Maybe, but I have had repeat offenders countless times wronging me, hiding behind an empty “sorry”. I have dealt with someone who jokingly said: “It’s easier to apologise than to ask for permission”.
He found himself uttering a series of “excuse me’s” that he didn’t mean. A truly magnificent thing about the way the brain is coded, Sam thought, was that it could say “excuse me” while meaning “screw you” – Gabrielle Zevin, Tomorrow, and Tomorrow and Tomorrow
We are past the point in the conversation where one sips your wine, so I took a gulp from my refilled glass and pointed out to my husband: “Your apology usually comes with a condition or an explanation of why you shouldn’t be apologising”. He took a deep swig from his glass, and I saw the vein on his forehead pulsate. “It is as if the preceding “sorry” excuses whatever you are going to say or do next”, I said. “There should not be a “but” when you are sorry”. My husband countered, “I’m sorry, but I disagree with you “. “Why are you sorry?” I interrupted (he was proving my point spectacularly), “You are allowed a different opinion than mine; you don’t have to apologise for it”.
Most countries have a national flag, animal, and flower. Do countries have a national word? If so, “sorry” should be the national word of South Africa. South Africans use this word to defend our country’s shortcomings and the daily decline. Several times per day, I hear an insincere “Sorry né”. Without any attempt to solve the issue, this type of apology translates to me as: deal with it. When my luggage was lost, and I had to spend a week in a very cold Edgewood, Kentucky, without clothes and toiletries, I realised that big global companies also use the word “sorry” loosely when dealing with customer service issues. To hear the phrase “I’m sorry that you feel this way” when I complained about the poor service was fuel on my fire. The implication of this phrase, masked as an apology, is that my feelings and reactions to the situation are invalid. It was as if this customer service employee were feeling sorry for themselves because they had to deal with my reaction, which was, in fact, quite situation-appropriate. There is a general belief that one cannot be held accountable as long as one apologises. People who work with me know that I despise it when they say “sorry” when I walk into theatre, and they tell me about the resource constraint of the day. My reply is a half-hearted joke that every time they use the word “sorry”, they must put money into a fines jar, and I will be able to enjoy an early retirement with the funds. I prefer they tell me what they are doing to rectify the situation. It shows that they are not just passively accepting the problem but are actively working to solve it.
Apologies aren’t meant to change the past, they are meant to change the future – unknown
What is left to say after an apology has been offered? You must accept the apology; it is socially unacceptable not to. Otherwise, one is perceived as an unreasonable and angry person. Once someone apologises, it is time to kiss, makeup, and move on. But I find it very difficult to accept cheap apologies that are so quickly uttered to avoid dealing with the situation. We have created a world where mediocrity is acceptable and individual rights trump doing the right thing. I have often apologised for offending someone by not accepting an insincere apology: I am sorry for not accepting your feigned “sorry”.
Never ruin an apology with an excuse – Benjamin Franklin
From my experience of dealing with medicolegal cases in medicine, I have realised that most litigation can be avoided if a doctor apologises to the patient or family for a complication that occurred. Patients tend to be very forgiving and understand that there is always the risk that something adverse could happen. All they want is for the doctor to acknowledge that the complication shouldn’t have occurred in the ideal world, and to see that the doctor has compassion for the situation and a plan to manage it.
The “sorry” I find most challenging to deal with is the “sorry for your loss.” When my mother passed away, I found this attempt to show sympathy quite awkward to respond to. It was as if people knew it was the right thing to say but did not want to acknowledge my grief beyond the socially required formalities and wanted to quickly steer the conversation in a more upbeat direction. My experience is that a person who has suffered real grief never speaks this phrase. They tend to stand with you in silence, in unspoken acknowledgement that there are no words to describe your profound loss.
I’m sorry for the loss of your person. And the million things that vanished on the day their heart stopped beating. And the billion things you must grieve every single day that they aren’t here. And I am sorry that there isn’t a better word than just SORRY. – Sara Rian
“What is there left to say if we can’t say I’m sorry?” my husband asked. “I don’t know,” I murmur, emptying my glass. I wonder if maybe it’s in the way you say it while looking into someone’s eyes and really mean it. Or perhaps it’s in the silence of an unspoken apology behind the phone call starting with “How is the weather that side?”
I’m sorry, she said again, knowing it was not enough, but what else was there? – Kristin Hannah, The Women
