It is relatively safe to say that no one enjoys disappointing someone they care about. It can be very painful,  but it is an experience in which we have partaken in one way or another. Whether it was forgetting a special occasion, such as an anniversary or birthday, or phoning a friend to let the know that you can’t make a road trip you had been planning for months, disappointing a loved one can be detrimental for everyone involved. How wonderful it would be to walk the earth with the peace of mind requisite for flawlessness!  But, we are humans and from time to time, our very human qualities can stand in the way of our perfection.

My father turned 50 this year and to celebrate, he hosted a rather large get-together. He personally planned the party and offered to purchase the airline tickets. All I had to do was get the time off from work and everything would fall delicately into place. Before discussing it with my boss, I gave my dad the go ahead to buy the tickets and told him we’d be there. It was a risky move and I knew it. Earlier this past summer I had taken my wife and daughter to Costa Rica for a three week adventure and I had planned to be in North Carolina during the month of September, apprenticing at a timber framing company. Needless to say, I did not have an abundance of ‘time off.’ Although my boss is a wonderfully understanding person, I was feeling a great deal of anxiety about asking for yet another week of vacation.

The day came to ask my boss for the time off. I summoned up the courage, and waited for the right moment. But as Murphy’s Law would have it, we were going to be short-staffed during that specific time and I would be needed to man the store. In short, I could not make the trip to Illinois. I would have to call my father and tell him that I had blown my chance to make the trip for his birthday. It was an incredibly difficult phone call to make, but it had to be done sooner rather than later.

Again, I summoned up the courage and phoned my dad.  I explained to him that I had simply not planned the trip well and, unfortunately, would not be attending his party. I apologized profusely. It was all I could do. I wanted to place the blame on anyone but me — I wanted to blame my employer for not understanding my situation, I wanted to blame my father for planning his party at such an inopportune time, and I wanted to blame my co-workers for taking their vacations during that same week. But none of those was the truth. I had blown it. I had made a mistake and was experiencing firsthand how my actions could directly and negatively effect someone close to me. I wanted to either crawl into a hole and hibernate or quantum leap like Scott Bakula into the body of someone more responsible.

My father, who is not the best communicator (look who’s talking), did not take the news well. Instead of describing how angry he was at my irresponsibility, he decided he would rather just not speak with me at all. I wanted to talk to him, not necessarily to explain myself, since there wasn’t much to explain, but to hear his reaction. I wanted him to be able to tell me how much I had disappointed him, how much he had planned for this and how my carelessness had pulled the rug out from under his plans. But he wouldn’t speak to me.  Being ignored is far worse than being chastised.  I spent the day feeling the painful repercussions disappointing someone close to me. My stomach hurt and my shoulders tightened. I continued replaying our phone conversation in my mind, hoping each time for it to somehow end differently.

As I experienced these emotions, this pain, I began asking myself an interesting question; “Can I appreciate this?” Can I keep in mind that life has duality and is not simply the blissful, inspiring, beautiful moments that make us weep with joy or burst out in the kind of spontaneous laughter that fills our body with an inexplicable sensation?  Life consists of making mistakes and feeling their effects. I tried my best to understand that, at that moment, life was like this. Plain and simple. As much as I wanted to rectify the situation, I could do nothing but accept it and attempt to appreciate the pain I had created for myself and others — to learn from my mistakes.  Not an easy task.

I called my father later that evening. He had calmed down and was willing to listen to me. I explained again how sorry I was and, while I was not responsible for his reaction to what I had done, I was able to show him that I cared about his suffering. Having the courage to admit my mistake and possessing the desire to care for my father’s pain opened us up to an incredible truth. It is human to make mistakes. We all have the same emotions, desires, and weaknesses. Accepting this simple truth radically altered my perspective, and I was able to sit with what might otherwise be an unbearable situation for me.

In realizing this truth comes great power and comfort. I alone do not make mistakes. Indecision, doubt, fear, anxiety…all are universal human qualities. They are as inescapable as they are impersonal. When we accept this, we begin to understand one another better. Our expectations of ourselves and of others are no longer as rigid or unforgiving. This is the beginning of unconditional love. What a wonderful birthday gift. Happy Birthday Dad.