Two weeks ago, I get a Facebook message. “I feel like after our trip together our relationship cooled. Was it something I did?”
Well …
The trip happens in the last week of June. The walls are closing in on me and I need to do something, anything. A close friend agrees to go on an adventure – hike the Pemi Loop, a 32 mile trail that winds up and down a ring of mountains in New Hampshire.
“I’ll take care of everything,” I explain.
The first day satisfies all my expectation – exhausting climbs, serene mountain tops, breathtaking vistas, a sense of roughing it and braving the elements, danger. We barely make it to the hut for dinner. That night I sink into my sleeping bag spent but satisfied. As Ice Cube would say “It was a good day.”
The second day I’m up early, excited and very sore. We hit the trail soon after breakfast. This will be another good day. I’m sure of it. But … my hiking partner’s spiritual fairy dust becomes increasingly critical. My joviality and high spirit wanes. The weather turns. I elect to push on, but she wants out. No sense in arguing, so I defer. Instead of a relaxing at Galehead, we descend into the valley and head back to the parking lot. The long, long walk back tortures my body and soul, but it’s the car ride through thick fog and blurry rain that finally breaks me. I snarl at aggressive drivers. My co-pilot – someone I’ve known for over twenty years – decides to harangue me. “You’re such a negative person, do you know that?”
That hurt. And something shifts between us. Suddenly I just don’t have the urge to make an effort anymore. I cherish my friends. I hold them close and give them my respect and trust and time. But who needs this? Life has so many other options calling for my attention – work, children, my father’s health, making waffles … running (both literally and figuratively).
A summer of silence. Then the text. “I feel like after our trip together our relationship cooled. Was it something I did?” Sometimes it’s hard to confront feelings and harder still to put yourself out there and actually tell someone – “I’m angry” or “I’m hurt” or even “I love you.” Are you prepared for a response you may not like? And if it does happen, then what?
I call. Texting or email would have almost been easier of course. Who wants to actually have to deal with the other person in real time, see their expression, hear their voice? She’s direct, “Tell me what’s wrong.” So I do, explaining honestly how I poured so much my myself and my limited resources into this trip, only asking for a companion to share the experience.
An apology – a sincere apology, one that truly acknowledges the pain you’ve caused – is a rare thing. Anger, excuses or the dreaded non apology (aka the “take care” of apologies) are much more common. In so many ways this world lacks empathy. Johanna knows herself and isn’t afraid of her feelings. She apologizes … sincerely … and then begins to cry.
Forgive and forget. The longer I’m on this Earth, the more I come to understand and appreciate that forgiveness is easy. There is no erasing a memory though (except with the passing of time I suppose). I can shift the context of it, place it into a different, more nuanced, category. And, as I tell my daughters over and over, so many things in life can fixed with a simple apology. If you’ve wronged someone … admit it to yourself, own it, and then admit it to the other person. They may forgive you … or maybe they won’t.
And … I didn’t want to lose my friend. I yearned for that apology and I got exactly what I wanted. And I was the one who thanked her for being honest and brave enough to say “what I did was wrong. I’m so sorry. I value our friendship more than you know.”