Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets. – Paul Tournier
Some months ago, I wrote a newsletter entitled “Secrets make us Sick.” It discussed the therapeutic value of acknowledging past mistakes. The point of that piece, I believe, was worth reiterating through the sharing of a recent experience I had with a client.
The client was a man in his fifties who had recently lost his father. The middle-aged son had been an athlete as a high schooler. Like many male parents, his dad had been an avid and very emotional, supporter of his son. My client shared a most poignant story that evolved from one of his games that had been played over thirty years ago.
The basketball game came down to the last minute. My client recalled that his team was ahead by a single point when a foul was called on him. His team’s coach, a volatile sort, erupted on the bench in protest. His vitriol quickly earned him a technical – then another. What appeared to be an opportunity for a rare victory for his team was quickly deteriorating into yet another loss. Watching from the stands, my client’s father couldn’t take it anymore. He descended from his position in the stands and walked onto the court, adding his voice to the chorus of boos, cheers, and catcalls over the controversial referee technical calls.
Why the above narration about an insignificant game that transpired decades ago? Sadly, because the incident led to a deathbed apology from my client’s father. A day before his death, the man’s father whispered in his son’s ear: “I am sorry that I embarrassed you when I came out of the stands at that basketball game years ago.” My client was stunned and shocked by both his father’s confession and the depth of feeling that spawned it. My client lamented, “I remember the game, but was struck by my father’s words before he passed away. I was never embarrassed by my dad. I loved that he came to my games. But I feel terrible that he kept that secret inside for all those years. If he had told me that secret years ago, I could have cleared the air. It would have brought us closer.”
My client then rhetorically asked, “Why would my dad keep that painful secret all those years?” I could only speculate on the answer. Perhaps it was generational. Maybe Dad was just inclined to introversion. More likely, his father was ashamed of his embarrassing display years ago and simply wanted to avoid the issue. Whatever the reason, the mutual distance and pain between father and son was unnecessary and totally avoidable.
More often than not, the opposite of honesty is not dishonesty. It is silence. It is avoiding the truth that would truly set us free if we simply express it.
Homework: You know what it is. What has gone unexpressed that would liberate you? What untold secret that stays buried would lighten you and bring you closer to a loved one or old friend?
You know what to do. And don’t wait until the last minute (or day or week or year), just go do it.
Every man has his secret sorrows, which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold while he is only sad. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow