I was on the phone with a long-distance friend the other night when she asked me for my advice in regards to what she felt was a much needed but rather late apology. "I've thought about this thing that happened..." she said, "and it was pretty bad on my part..." As it turned out, the "pretty bad thing" was pretty bad, but it was also a very very long time ago - years ago, in fact. Nonetheless, while the act deserved an apology, it really made me wonder: can an apology come too late?
While most people today will tell you that it is never too late to say you're sorry, I'm not too sure I agree. It's not that I don't believe in the power of redemption - I do. A lot, actually. It's just that most of the time, people do such a shitty job of saying they're sorry that it has the potential of doing more harm than good.
As sad as it is, it's rather rare that a successful apology happens between adults anymore. There are no more parents or teachers telling us what we did wrong and how we should have behaved - no one forcing us to come face-to-face with our inner asshole. We can write off someone's rage as foolishness, and another's pain as over-sensitivity without ever having to deal with it. Compound that with pride, anger, and poor listening skills and you find that half the trouble in forming an apology is realizing you did anything wrong to begin with.
Evidently, there's something to be said for actually coming to and suffering the complementary shame that, at least in my case, has always come along with recognizing when I've been a dick. But an apology that functions as a mere confessional - a way for someone to just get something off his/her chest - is only done for selfish reasons. I know this; I've done it before. So while we hope the end result of any sincere apology is forgiveness, it certainly can't be expected - that's what makes the apology sincere.
I suppose I've had my fair share of being on both sides of an apology and if I've learned anything, I've learned this: that personal grievances are apt to cause the greatest distress in people's lives. The more significant the offense, the greater must be the reparations. But what do we do when the offense is truly old; when years have passed; when the wound has healed even if on its own? Is an apology then not just a selfish desire to take that final opportunity to say the things we didn't; an attempt to assuage our guilt or emphasize our love?
After all that time, when there is no chance of healing the hurt or restoring the relationship, I have to wonder if the greater apology rests in restraint and resolve. Maybe there is such a thing as too little, too late.
