The Hardest Words To Say

There’s a little grouping of words that can be surprisingly difficult for a Dad to say.

It’s not “I love you.” It’s not even “I was wrong.” It’s the two words that sometimes come after all of that:“I’m sorry.”

Now, some Dads are really good at apologizing. Other Dads…well, we treat an apology like it’s a bankruptcy filing. We’re afraid that once we admit we were wrong, the whole Dad empire is going to collapse. “Sorry? ME? No, no, no. You don’t understand. I had a very good reason for yelling.”

And then comes the classic Dad defense: “I’m sorry…BUT…” Oh, there it is.

“I’m sorry, BUT if you had just listened to me…” or “I'm sorry...but what about that thing YOU said or did...” That’s not really an apology. That’s an argument wearing an apology costume.

Dads, our kids don't need us to be perfect. In fact, I think one of the most important things a Dad can teach his kids is that you can be wrong and still be a good person. Think about that. Because our kids are going to make mistakes. Lots of them.

They’re going to say things they shouldn’t say. They’re going to lose their temper. They’re going to make bad decisions. They’re going to hurt somebody’s feelings. They’re going to blow it.

And when they do, what do we want them to do? Do we want them to make excuses?

Do we want them to blame somebody else? Do we want them to pretend nothing happened?

Or do we want them to have the courage to walk up to another human being and say:

Well, Dad… They’re watching you. They’re learning how to apologize by watching how you apologize. Maybe you had a rough day at work. Maybe you came home stressed out.

Maybe the kids were loud, the dog was barking, the phone was ringing, dinner was late, and somebody spilled something on the floor. And you lost it. You yelled. Not because you’re a terrible father. Because you’re human.

But here's where fatherhood gets really important. Later, when things have calmed down, you walk into your kid’s room. And you say: “Hey, buddy. I want to talk to you about earlier.” And your son or daughter is probably thinking, “Uh-oh.” And you say: “I was angry, but I shouldn't have talked to you like that. You didn't deserve that. I was wrong. I'm sorry.” That's powerful. You didn't surrender your authority. You didn't become less of a Dad. You didn't lose respect. You actually gained it. Because your child just saw something incredibly important: Dad is strong enough to admit when Dad is wrong.

There’s another part of apologizing that Dads need to understand. Sometimes the apology isn't about what you did. Sometimes it's about what you didn't do. Maybe you weren't there. Maybe you missed the game. Maybe you promised you'd go to the school concert and something came up. Maybe your daughter wanted to show you something she made, and you were staring at your phone. Maybe your son was trying to tell you about something happening in his life, and you were too busy thinking about work.

Years later, those little moments can become big memories. And sometimes the most important words a Dad can say are: “I wish I'd paid more attention.” “I wish I'd been there.” “I’m sorry.”

And here's the thing about an apology: You don't get to control what happens after you say it. Your child may forgive you immediately. They may need time. They may say, “It's okay,” even when it isn't okay yet. You can't force forgiveness. Your job is to tell the truth. “I was wrong.” “I’m sorry.”

And then…change. Because a real apology isn't just words, it's words followed by behavior.

If you keep doing the same thing over and over again, eventually “I'm sorry” becomes background noise. But if you apologize and then work to do better? Your kids notice.

So if your adult child comes to you with something difficult, resist the urge to build a courtroom defense. Listen. And maybe say:

“You know what? I didn't see it that way at the time. But I can understand why you felt that way. I'm sorry.”

That doesn't erase the past. But it can change the future. And sometimes, Dad, that's what we're really after. Not pretending the past didn't happen. But making sure the past doesn't control the future.

I think there's a beautiful kind of strength in a father who can say, “I was wrong.” Because anybody can pound their fist on the table. Anybody can yell. Anybody can demand respect. But it takes real character to look at your child and say: “You deserved better from me in that moment.” And then give them a hug. No speech. No excuses. No “but.” Just: “I’m sorry.”

Dads, we spend so much time teaching our kids how to work hard, how to be responsible, how to defend themselves, how to stand up for what they believe in. Let's also teach them how to humble themselves.

Because someday our kids are going to be husbands and wives. They're going to be parents.

They're going to have bosses and employees and friends and neighbors. They're going to mess up.

And when that happens, I hope they remember that their father wasn't perfect.

But he was accountable. He could admit when he was wrong. He could look somebody in the eye.

He could swallow his pride and he could say those the words that sometimes require an enormous amount of courage: “I’m sorry.”

Because being a good Dad doesn't mean never making mistakes. Being a good Dad means showing your kids what to do after you make one. And sometimes the most powerful thing a father can teach his child… is how to say, “I was wrong.” “I love you.” “And I’m sorry.”