If you can’t tell by the headline, and if you don’t know me so well, my mother passed away when I was fourteen. Now, your first reaction is probably something along the lines of pity, compassion, empathy, sympathy, or if you’re a real sociopath, detachment as you go about your sterile life of murdering bugs and hanging up on your girlfriend.
In person, what those first four reactions usually manifest themselves as is: “I’m sorry.”
Now, I’m not the most up to date on all things manners, but to me, apologizing for somebody’s mother passing away years ago just doesn’t seem like the proper response. It usually leaves me either joking it away: “Well, it wasn’t your fault, was it?” Or just tossing out a “thank you” as my eyes hit the ground and we both desperately wait for the subject to change.
It’s not that I think you guys are all dicks, it’s just that, I’ve heard the word “sorry” as much as I’ve heard the words “please stop dancing near me you are very unattractive.”
Honestly, I’d like to talk about almost anything else. One time my girlfriend and I had to push my dog’s erection back into his penis sack because it got stuck out. I gagged the whole time and I’m pretty sure it changed me as a person, but I’d rather talk about that for hours than sit in the moment after I tell someone about my childhood.
In fact, I stopped telling people for a long time because I was tired of the pitiful looks and the general vibe of you must be so brave to have endured something like that.
Here’s the thing. I’m not very brave. I had a GREAT life (and still do). I had a GREAT mom. And I still have a GREAT dad. Do I wish I had more time with her? Of course I do. Would I trade those fourteen years for sixty with someone else? Not in a hundred lifetimes. I got to be raised by two parents who loved me, adored each other, and provided me with enough confidence to create a short film about living in a bathtub that I think has 17 views. There’s nothing to be sorry about.
Sure, I often can’t sleep and I am constantly riddled with thoughts about my overall success, but my girlfriend and I have a few cats that are pretty sweet and a dog that rules when he’s not getting his boner tucked back in. I get to work in a business that gives me freedom and allows for creativity, even though at times it’s like getting kicked in the back of the head repeatedly. And, I eat tacos pretty regularly. Tacos fucking rule!
But part of this great life is tied into my tragedy as well.
My older sister and I are inseparable. We have a relationship that is unbelievably hard to describe and is forged in the fact that she did some of the raising of me. I’ve never taken my dad for granted for even one day since I was fourteen (how many kids can say that? Most kids are just HUGE squidbags), and ditto goes for my brother who, no matter how long it’s been, becomes a best friend again as soon as we’re in the same room.
I guess I don’t really need you to be sorry, that’s not a particularly bad hand I was dealt.
So, Matt, are you here to bitch or are you here to actually tell us what we can say to you that won’t make you write a thousand word essay of your anger? Or did you just want to write about a really dark subject and put in multiple references to your dog’s gross boner because you’re a goddamn weirdo? (That’s three references, by the way).
Well you guys are in luck, because after some soul searching – looking at my cats while I drink iced tea – I’ve decided what I think would be appropriate. At least for me.
Why not ask: “What was she like?”
I’ve never gotten that question. Not once. At least not for quite some time after the “I’m sorry’s” and “How did it happen’s” finally made their way through. And that’s something that actually sounds pretty great to talk about.
I can tell you that she was a badass.
She grew up in a not great area with a bunch of siblings and an on-again/off-again single mother in Philadelphia. She moved to Connecticut to become a scientist (A FUCKING SCIENTIST) even though she was offered a full ride to stay in Philly because she needed to strike out on her own. And she was such a force of nature that her mother, sister, and brother all followed her to a little farm town called Tolland. <– [The birthplace of Matt Gudernatch]
I hear stories that make me think she smoked the occasional pot in her youth and that she loved white zinfandel. She also fiercely loved her family.
That’s the good shit. That’s the shit that makes my heart feel better when I’m telling the story.
And look at that, just thinking about “what was she like,” I’m reminded of everything that was so great about her. I remember that we both laugh in inappropriate situations, that we used to pick these weird little flowers in my backyard, and that if she was still around she might actually like the little web series I make with my cats that are so very, very stupid.
I’m not trying to change a worldwide dialogue or anything, but in the future, if you’re trying to figure out the appropriate response, maybe it’s just seeing what that person was like. I’m willing to bet there are some good stories.
Otherwise, get ready for a quick head nod and a long story about my dog’s penis.
Touche’ . Warmed my heart. Cracked me up. And put love in my heart.
Awww, thanks so much Vicky!
Hey Matt, I really appreciate you putting this out there in a productive and humorous way. I have had several recent conversations about the same topic. And actually, I think you are being generous that this is not based more in sociopathic behavior. I think we’ve lost what it means to collectively mourn and remember people. I didn’t ask a lot of my friends to come to my dad’s funeral and I’ve regretted it ever since. It’s the one opportunity our communities have to get together and listen to funny stories, laugh about a person’s life, and feel emboldened by their character and humanness. I try to talk about my dad often, and it’s always with some zany anecdote or fond memory, and most people couldn’t be more uncomfortable about the mere mention of a dead person. I want everyone to know how awesome he was, not apologize that he’s gone. I think we need to ask this question of people in our lives, and figure out some way to make it socially and culturally normal. Keep talking about her and this.
And keep talking about things that make people feel uncomfortable, with occasional mention to dog wieners. Cheers to a fantastic 2015.
Thanks, Briana. Hope you’re doing awesome! All the travel looks great on Facebook.
Thanks so much for sharing this Matt. As one of those people who has probably told you “I’m sorry” several times it really helps a lot to hear examples of helpful responses. I have gotten a lot of “I’m sorries” in response to my own health issues (e.g. having a chronic illness, fertility issues, etc.) and I never know how to respond…do you say “thank you”? At the same time I know that people want to express their empathy and compassion but they don’t know what to say. I often find myself continuing the conversation about these issues (often when I would rather talk about anything else) just to make the other person feel more comfortable and less awkward but it doesn’t work. I think I will take your advice and try to be more honest and give people examples of how to respond. Thanks. Xoxo
You’re the best, Cams!! xoxo
Loved this! I have always felt so awkward with the “I’m sorry” when it comes to the loss of my Dad I get so awkward and say somethung absurd. I appreciate your hinesty but even more than that, your hilarity.
Hope your dog is doing better… 🙂
Means a lot that there are other people who feel the same way! Thanks, Lynn!
She was a badass, and so are you. Keep it coming.
What a great awkward-breaker! I’m trying it out IMMEDIATELY. What a bad-ass legacy you both are. (Don’t know your brother). I can’t help but feel inappropriately proud of you and the way you laugh at inopportune moments, and make the rest of us laugh along. Kudos! Just don’t make me watch the bathtub short again.
Great post, and well-written. My mother’s mother was murdered when I was a year old. I never knew her, so it was always awkward having people express sympathy in the form of “I’m sorry”. It affected my mom a lot, but the sorries certainly never helped, and most of the questions/comments then and still now are centered around morbid curiosity rather than stem from genuine empathy. “How did she die” “how was she killed.” “Did they catch them?”
Thank you for writing this.
Matt, you’re an exceptional writer, and you have the ability to make us feel that we’re sitting right there, tea sipping and cat gazing along with you as we read your thoughts. Thank you for sharing your insight with great honesty and humor. This one gets tucked away in the memory bank, and I’m sure it will make an impact on the way I talk to people in the future. Thanks. And from the looks of it, the bad-ass-adry runs in the family. xo
Matt, I don’t know you, and wound up here referred by a mutual friend, so please don’t take this in any way badly.
There are two meanings to “I’m sorry” (perhaps more). But one that is _not_ apology is just a statement of fact. “I feel regret.”
The loss of one’s mother is never easy, and clearly wasn’t for you. To anyone who cares about you, and beyond that, to anyone who feels empathy for their fellow humans in distress, feeling and expressing regret for misfortunate comes naturally, and can be perfectly sincere.
I get the “I’m sorry”s over the death of my only sibling in an accident some years back. I take them as an expression of care for / about me, and no reply is necessary. If there is awkwardness, I point out that it was long ago, and that I have had time to heal as much as I will / can. And, “What was he like?” is not a conversation I particularly want to have, let alone multiple times with people I barely or don’t know.
So… at the risk of provoking your ire, I’m sorry that the same benefit does not accrue to you. But it may lessen your anger to know that those of us who offer it don’t see it as an apology: just as an expression of kindness and compassion. Such an expression can never be all bad, even if its form does not suit you…
No ire here, and really I didn’t think of it so much of a scathing report on “sorry.” Just glad to inform you and other people that the word is taken differently.
In the same way you don’t want me to decide how you use sorry, I’m capable of deciding for myself what it has meant over the years. I’m just tired of hearing it, that’s all. Thanks for reading!
Matt, your humor and honesty have given me much to ponder regarding these difficult situations. Thanks so much! Oh, I wish we could see you again and share some laughs about the many shows we did together at Silver Lake! Peace, Ledell Mulvaney
Thanks, Ledell! Miss you and love to everyone!!
This is GREAT. Really well-written. My Dad died about thirteen years ago, and I went through exactly what you talk about. People don’t at all mean to be jerks when they say it, obviously, but everyone should read your post to understand what it’s like to be at the other end of “I’m sorry”.
I’m sorry about your dog’s penis.
As an Occupational therapist with 45 years experience working with people dealing with grief, I’m stunned by your profound insight and powerful use of words. You’ve taught me. I’m so grateful!
That was excellent Matt.
All of it.
Thank you especially for the outlook and the reminder to value all you have and all you have loved.
(Ps. Keep the blue pills away from the dog)
Thanks so much, Ed!! And will do… he just LOVES them.
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