The Dead Dad’s Club
I’d say things have been busy- but really I’ve been on the computer, I’ve had time, I’ve just not had many cohesive thoughts. I found out on Sunday morning that my friend’s dad had died Saturday night. Her dad had been my bishop (church leader) when Steve and I were dating and when we got married. He was a great, great man. My heart aches for my friend and her siblings as they enter the not so fun dead dad’s club. It’s not capitalized but that’s because it’s not official or formal and we don’t have meetings or funny uniforms. But we share a bond, a crappy, crappy bond.
Something I’ve learned these last two years is empathy. I always have felt sad for people when their dad’s died (or when anyone died) but now it’s a deeply personal feeling. There is actual pain in my heart, a lump in my throat and frequent tears for the children that won’t get to know their fathers as adults, or who’s kids won’t remember who Grandpa is. In all honesty it shouldn’t probably affect me that much- but I’ve been there in most ways.
In talking to my mom about it last night I realize how much easier we had it- if it can be easy at all. But we knew it was coming- and we had several good years before it got spectacularly crappy. We had time to tell my dad how we felt about him, time to spend together and time to say goodbye. When he did die we were praying for it to happen, it was time, we were ready and he was ready and he was in so much pain. It wasn’t sudden or unexpected.
I’ve learned through my membership in this club that it gets easier with time. I know that seems cliche, but it’s true. Time really does heal all wounds. Life goes on, which is perhaps the hardest thing of all. Walking out of the funeral I remember feeling like the sky should be cloudy, the streets should be empty and people should be in mourning for my dad. But it was a bright, sunny day, the birds were singing, cars were driving past the chapel not even knowing what a great man had been lost to this world that day. It hit me then that people die everyday, that somewhere someone is mourning in the world all the time. I’ve become better at mourning with those that mourn, which isn’t an ability I’d wish on anyone.
I worry about my kids not knowing about my dad- the grandpa that if they remember they’ll remember as an ill old man, not as the vibrant, active man that he was. The one that had he not gotten sick would be camping and hiking with us regularly. The man that made 51 seem not that old at all, and certainly not old enough to die. I find that it’s in the moments that I miss him, moments when he would have been there that are the hardest- but it’s also when I need to point out that loss to my kids. Not that I always do, sometimes I can’t get the words past the lump in my throat.
There are times to laugh. Your dad would want you to, your kids need to see you remembering the good times with fondness and to hear the silly stories about Grandpa Van. The experience of losing a family member seems to cement bonds within the family in a way that nothing else can. These people know what you’re feeling, they’ve been through it with you. You may think you’re close now- but this past week will bring you closer.
So welcome to the club. I’m sorry to see you here. Your dad will be missed by many. He was an easy man to love. I know I don’t need to tell you this- but take care of your mom. She’s in an even worse club then us.
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I don’t belong to this club yet, but I watch my 74 year old dad every day and see my membership coming. Especially in this last year.
I’m so sorry, for you and your friend. I don’t understand, but I know some day I will. Prayers for you both.
Oh hun, what a powerful, moving post. I hope not to fully understand it for many years to come.
I’m sorry for your friends’ loss. And yours as well. Your dad really was a great man. My mom lost her dad when he was 53, it will be 30 years ago in September, she still feels sadness and loss over it.
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That has got to be so hard- I can’t even imagine losing a parent and really don’t look forward to dealing with it,but unfortunately we will all have to go through it someday.
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I’m not in the club. But you made my eyes fill with tears and never want to join.
Bri was only a year old when my mom died and she always asks me to tell her stories about grandma and she wants to know everything about her. It is a way that I can help her know her grandma, even though she doesn’t remember her.
Good luck this next week with the move…we will miss having your good family as neighbors!
WOW! That was a beautifully written post!
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Bishop Van??? Gosh, I hope not. Wendi
Sorry, didn’t read far enough. I am sad to hear that. I have lost touch, but I loved bishop, he was one of the best I had. Thanks!
There are no words. Thank you, my friend. It means more to me than you will ever know that you took the time to come to the memorial. Thank you for your empathy and the hugs. It is kind of a crappy club to belong to, but at least I get to be in it with you. (Dad would want me to look on the bright side) Love you.
You need a disclaimer on this post: Highly Emotional Pregnant Women Should Skip This one! Now I need a tissue.
I felt the same way at Grampa’s funeral, the day before Father’s Day.
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It seems like time helps, but then it just hits you out of the blue sometimes, when you are not prepared for it.
My worst nightmare is losing a close family member. My first loss - my closest grandma - was a couple of years ago. It was a cloudy/rainy day and if fit my mood perfectly. It was so painful to lose a grandparent, even one who was sick and confined to a wheel chair. I have no idea how much more painful it would be to lose a parent. When I think of my grandma, I can remember what she was like before she got sick, but some of my cousins - and my own kids - are so many years younger than me that all they will remember is a grandma that sat in a wheel chair without a personality or anything to say due to brain damage caused by illness. It makes me sad to know that they will not know the grandma that had spunk and plenty of it. Oh Gosh - now you’ve got me crying. I agree with the commenter that said you should put a disclaimer on this post stating that pregnant, emotionally imbalanced people shouldn’t read it.
What a beautiful, well-written post. This is one I would want to read again and again. I’ll probably come back to it when my husband’s father dies (which may be something we’ll be facing in the next year or two). Thanks for sharing.
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