Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word

Last weekend my dad called and in the midst of a chat, he said some things that evolved into me saying some things, and before I knew it, I was in tears, feeling liked I’d been sucker punched. The thing is, dad may well have meant every word he said, and I didn’t say anything that I wouldn’t have said at any other time (although, I may have changed my tone a bit, had this conversation occurred under any other circumstance).

We exchanged very nasty words, and then I passed the phone off to The Princess to talk to her Grandpa. And I went to lick my wounds.

All week, I’ve been marinating on the things he said, the things I said, and I have been avoiding my father, to be honest. The Princess wanted to call him at several points during the week and I would distract her, not wanting to call him, not wanting to talk about it, not wanting to deal with it – I guess the hurt was still too… too much. I had to tell my dad something the other day, and I emailed his wife instead. Just not ready.

This afternoon, the phone rang. I looked at the Caller ID and saw dad’s cell number, and instantly this feeling flooded me of, Do I want to answer? Should I screen? Should I just suck it up and talk to him? In the end, I did answer the phone, and gave a curt “Hello” and dad started talking and sounded somewhat apprehensive himself. I thought he would address it. I even thought he might tell me he was sorry, but instead we talked over it, moving into safe territory: music, magazines, his trip to Vegas.

And, it was fine.

Am I hurt that he didn’t apologize? Yeah, I am, kind of. But… I don’t know if he knows how. I don’t know if he thinks he needs to. I don’t know.

About sarah

Sarah is a book nerd, a music lover, an endorphin junkie, a coffee addict. Oh, and a goof ball. She writes, she tweets, and she sings off key.


  1. I’m sorry about this. I don’t know what to do when this kind of thing happens either.

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