Love, Loss, and Longing
Grief for the relationship we could have had and gratitude for the one we did
Today is my dad’s birthday. He died in 2021, after a long battle with Parkinson’s Disease.
I have lots of happy memories of him and the things we did together. When I was a child, he read Uncle Remus stories to my siblings and me. He made the stories come alive by using a difference voice for each character. I also remember him bouncing me on his knees as he sang to me.
But I also have painful memories. Our relationship changed when I became a teenager and learned his views about women and sex. I was told I had to be the “gatekeeper” when I went on dates because boys couldn’t control their lust. I needed to be a virgin until I got married because men thought, “Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?” On my wedding day, Dad and my brother decorated the car with slogans like “amateur night” and “her day, his night.”
So I grieve his death, but I also mourn the loss of the close relationship we had when I was a young child. That closeness ended long before his life did. And I’ve heard many women share similar stories.
And men raised by fathers with views like mine had sometimes struggle to be close to their dads, too. Many were taught that “big boys don’t cry” and shamed when they did. Their dads may not have hugged them or said “I love you” very often. They were expected to be sexually active (or at least want to be), but only with females. They were taught that “real men,” never change diapers, cook, or clean the house. All of that was “women’s work.”
Many of us are appalled by some of the things our dads (or moms, or other caregivers) believed, said, and did. It’s easy to dwell on all of the ways they hurt us and wish our relationships with them were better.
But I’m grateful for the relationship I had with my dad throughout my life. The photo above was taken a few years before his death. Despite his rapidly declining health, Dad (and his wife Martha and her sister) drove for hours to visit my husband and me. He told me he loved me and was proud of me, as he had many times before.
And on his deathbed, the two things my dad wanted to be sure of were that I forgave him for divorcing my mom (decades earlier) and that my husband Steve would take care of me.
I hope you have reasons to be grateful for the most important people in your life, even if some memories or aspects of your current relationships with them are painful.
Happy Birthday, Dad. I love you.
P.S. Due to the Thanksgiving holiday, there will not be a new issue of “Changing Lives” next Friday, November 24.
I certainly can identify with some things you said about your Dad. My Father was a minister of several churches and then went back to take "Chaplaincy training" to become a hospital Chaplain. Anyway, I had a "love/hate" relationship as a child, because he was at times so stern to me as a child. To give him credit, he did become remorseful about his treatment of me as a child later in my life, and did say he was sorry for the way he had treated me. I was the oldest of six kids. Our parents expected a lot of us. In church we were expected to smile and make other people feel welcome in church, no matter how we felt, from age 5 onward. That was a double-edged sword, to try to present a mask at times of "smiling and being sociable", and I found it made me "people please" too much. The positive side of that sword, is that I could probably talk to anyone sociably, including the President of the United States, or any Senator, etc. , because I know the art of being "sociable and friendly." So as a young adult I had to learn to be honest with people when I felt I needed to say "NO" to them. That was the case especially with boys and then men regarding sex, drugs, etc. Recently, my boyfriend asked me for "Help" after he gets surgery. So right out of the gate I said to him. "Here is what I am willing to do: I will cook food for you at your house three times a week for that day's lunch and dinner. As for everything else, you will need to hire a caregiver." (I hired a caregiver when I had my hip replacement surgery for myself for five days). So my point is I have learned to set boundaries with men. I did forgive my father after I was 50 years old. I was encouraged by a therapist to do so, and I did it for my heart, because I realized I had carried that grudge too long. I flew to Anchorage where my parents lived and I asked him to tell me more about his difficult upbringing from his own Dad. He was willing to talk to me about it, though I could tell it brought up pain for him. How does this relate to grief? I grieved for my Father's childhood being so rough, as well as my own. And the grief I felt helped me understand and open my heart to my husband. Now when I get upset about other people's actions towards me, I try to consciously forgive them, after discussing whatever happened with them. As I have learned in a recovery program, "Mean what you say, but don't say it in a mean way."
Also I forgot to mention to those who don't know me, I am currently a widow. My husband died in 2015. So that is why i mentioned that I have a boyfriend who is a widower.