Regrets

Tonight I spoke at length with a woman who feels that her words killed her husband. The day before he died she unleashed a vitriolic attack on him for his actions that she found offensive. She was apparently given to "spouting off" when she was disturbed about anything at all, actually. Her husband had heard many a tirade in the past. But this time he was very hurt by her words. She knew that because that night he rolled away from her in their bed before he fell asleep. That night he died before she could apologize for the words that broke his heart. Now she feels that she is the reason he died and that if she had been more loving, or even held back her frustrations, he would have lived longer. He went to the grave sick at heart because of the words from one who should have been the most supportive, warm, understanding and forgiving.

Guilt is a terrible burden.

Here is what went through my mind as I listened to this woman pour out her heart to me. You wonder what we therapists think about when we sit there nodding? Here it is. My mind was momentarily nibbling around the edges of a story I knew only too well.

I was invited by a congregation in Ireland to give a series of talks about family matters. In order to have some credibility (I was very new in the field at the time), I took along an established therapist to give some of the presentations. She was happy for the opportunity to travel abroad and she is an excellent clinician. What I didn't know however, was that when she is anxious she becomes controlling and she digs her heels in. Whatever the agenda may be, if she is anxious, she becomes very difficult.
We arrived the day before Thanksgiving. We'd planned our trip for that time because it was our vacation and it wasn't a holiday in Ireland. My colleague was exhausted that second day and was also perturbed about the advertising the church had done about us. As she thought about her talk the following evening, in went the heels.

The pastor's wife had invited us over for supper the night after we arrived. My colleague didn't want to go. I didn't know how to navigate the public transportation system there and was embarassed to ask how to use it. About an hour before we were to be at supper, I called and begged out of dinner. I claimed jet lag and every other thing that was within the realm of reality--partial truths. She pleaded with me to just come for an hour. It would be fine if I came alone, even if I were to eat and run. I felt in a real bind, between dealing with my growing anxiety about my colleague and my fear of traveling across the city on my own. So I thanked her repeatedly and bowed out.

We were received quite well by the church and those who came to the presentations. I enjoyed being there immensely and it was a good trip overall. On the last evening we were in town we had supper at the pastor's house along with a number of other folks from the church. Spirits were high and people were singing and laughing in the other room. I wandered into the kitchen to see if I could help with food preparation or serving and fell into conversation with the pastor's wife. In the midst of our conversation she stopped short and said, "Oh, if yeh could only've come Friday night" and she dissolved into tears. She went on to tell me that she had invited all the women in the church and a number of pastor's wives from other congregations in the area, and she had prepared a traditional American Thanksgiving dinner in honor of me. Turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, onions and brussel sprouts, sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie. It had been a surprise. Only I wasn't there.

Yes, I can hear you gasp. I feel sick at heart whenever I think of this and wish I could shut my eyes and disappear. It is a guilt that will always be palpable and sickening, apologies notwithstanding.

My client's eyes are full of tears. I feel sick in the pit of my stomach. It is impossible to take back words or actions that have hurt someone else. Humbling evidence that we are dreadfully human sometimes, that our actions make us sick sometimes. That cringe or no, we have to live with what we've done. Reminders that we need to look well to our ways. That there is a high value in being gracious to others. That we can't live without a good dose of mercy. That we hurt people without meaning to. It is one more thing that all of us know, only too well.

The Fool's Prayer
The royal feast was done; the King
Sought some new sport to banish care,
And to his jester cried: “Sir Fool,
Kneel now, and make for us a prayer!”

The jester doffed his cap and bells,
And stood the mocking court before;
They could not see the bitter smile
Behind the painted grin he wore.

He bowed his head, and bent his knee
Upon the monarch’s silken stool;

His pleading voice arose: “O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!

“No pity, Lord, could change the heart
From red with wrong to white as wool:
The rod must heal the sin; but, Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!

“ ’T is not by guilt the onward sweep
Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay;
’T is by our follies that so long
We hold the earth from heaven away.

“These clumsy feet, still in the mire,
Go crushing blossoms without end;
These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust
Among the heart-strings of a friend.

“The ill-timed truth we might have kept—
Who knows how sharp it pierced and stung!
The word we had not sense to say—
Who knows how grandly it had rung!

“Our faults no tenderness should ask,
The chastening stripes must cleanse them all;
But for our blunders—oh, in shame
Before the eyes of heaven we fall.

“Earth bears no balsam for mistakes;
Men crown the knave, and scourge the tool
That did his will; but Thou, O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!”

The room was hushed; in silence rose
The King, and sought his gardens cool,
And walked apart, and murmured low,
“Be merciful to me, a fool!”

Edward Rowland Sill