My Dad is 87. He’ll bury me.
Hrm… Well, it didn’t make me feel so much like a “man” except in that I did suddenly feel a whole lot more responsible for my mother’s well-being. But it’s not like I felt as if I was moved into the spot of “head of the family” like I inherited his throne or something. But the feeling of having greater responsibility was definitely there at first, but has since waned because really our mom is super-independent and doesn’t rely on us for much of anything at all.
I don’t have any kids of my own though, so I don’t know if that makes a difference, but I didn’t feel particularly transformed after he died.
My father is also very sick, though he doesn’t look it. I am maturing having to deal with his increasing disability. When he goes, it won’t be a shock, though that’s not to say it won’t be horrible; it will almost be a relief not having that hanging over my head (and everyone else’s) anymore, though.
My dad died due to a septic reaction to the contrast material the hospital used in testing him after a stroke. He’d had some health issues in the 10-12 before that, but always seemed to bounce back better than ever.
Even though I knew better, of course, there was some part of me that expected he’d just keep getting better.
What I lost when he died was his counsel. There was no situation, good or bad, I couldn’t call him up about and get a frank, objective and astonishingly wise and well-informed opinion on. The fact that he not only knew a lot but knew just about everything there was to know about me and how I would most likely be inclined to handle any given situation helped.
Of course, what I lost is far outweighed by what I gained: A strong sense of ethics, a determination to triumph over any adversity, the skills to step back and analyze rather than blindly rush into a course of action, an absolute and unswerving devotion to the people I care about and a sense of honor and obligation that I take into any situation are among them.
While I lost the ability to have a conversation with him, I’m lucky that I got to know him well enough that, if I honestly stop to think about it, I know what he would tell me anyway.
If I’m ever uncertain about something, I ask myself, “What would the old man do?” It’s served me well.
I really started to feel my own mortality when my father died. A couple years later I went into a depression and started having anxiety attacks. I listened to some tapes and take a pill everyday and for the most part I am better now. I really did feel like an adult after it happened. I knew that I was on my own now for real. If I had been older it probably would have felt differently. The family I had grown up with was gone forever. The dynamic between everyone in the family has subtly shifted. It has not stopped hurting but has stopped hurting all the time. The first year was the hardest and it has being getting easier ever since. I was a very stoic person before and now I cry at the drop of a hat. Field of Dreams became a different movie.
My father was a violent,evil,drunken, pyscho who used to beat the crap out of me and my brothers and mother up to and including hospitalising us, so when he died when I was twelve it was a definite improvement for me.
Even though my lazy, self indulgent ,self pitying mother milked widowhood for everything she could get,wouldn’t get a job,wouldn’t do the housework,shopping or see that the bills were paid on time and as a result I had to take on these duties though I was only a schoolkid .
But inspite of that it was most definitely hugely better then when he was alive.
In case anyones wondering why I didn’t seek help on my complete lack of being parented the simple answer is that I didn’t want to be put into a childrens home,something I feared immensly.
Also I’m not looking for sympathy, at the time I didn’t miss what I’d never had,you play the cards that you’re dealt.
My life was a paradise compared with what a lot of the poor sods in the Third World have to put up with.
I’m sorry for your loss.
My father died suddenly this past spring. My mother died when I was 19 and I had a two very close friends die a year later so I already had some experience with death. I was 39 at the time, well along in my job, a home owner and quite independent so I feel pretty sure that if I am ever to be considered a man that I was already there. The way he passed was pretty hard on all of us kids but other than that I don’t think my life has changed all that much. I still think about him quite a bit and reading this thread started getting me choked up but I don’t do that out of the blue nearly as much as I did in the spring.
In all honesty, right now it’s about 70% likely that I’ll find out about my dad’s death by reading his obituary.
I was 22 when my dad died. I had 2 years of college, and had dropped out to work mostly temp, low-paying jobs.
His sudden death (it was 6 weeks from appearing perfectly healthy to his death) shocked me into going back to school, graduating, and starting a career that 15 years later, I’m still working in.
I miss talking to him. My dad was that rare “happy” drunk. When he was sober, he was depressed, angry, and stand-offish. Get a beer or three into him, and he became a gregarious intelligent, wise man who was willing to talk about anything. There are still a few occasions when I want to call him to tell him something, and have to remind myself that he can’t hear me.
My dad was also one of those people who would come through in a pinch. He was a mechanic, a manager, a scientist (he taught me how to make gunpowder in the lab) and a general fount of information. If you needed anything, he either could do it, knew where to find the instructions, or knew someone who would know. Not having that resource anymore still hurts.
However, he was also a person who did not deal well with drama, crises, or household issues. Discovering my Mom had MS (which occurred 5 years after his death) would have nearly killed him emotionally. Learning she had PSP (which has an average 7-10 year lifespan after diagnosis) would have broken his sanity. Putting her into a nursing home at age 57 would have finished him off. So, there is a very thin silver lining in his passing when he did.
I miss him, even 15 years later. I miss our debates, arguments, discussions. I miss being able to bounce ideas off of him. I REALLY miss the fact that none of his grand-kids got to meet him.
Eli
This is long, but here it goes:
My father died of a brain tumor when I was five. Until that time, my family had moved quite a bit, as he served in the Air Force. Afterward, my mom built a home near her parents, and my brother and I led the same rural/small town life both our parents had (they were high school sweethearts). We were literally surrounded by family, which cushioned the shock of losing one’s father at such a young age considerably.
I still have vivid memories, snapshots, of the day he died in the hospital. Specifically, I remember my brother, who was 9, asking why I wasn’t crying. He thought I wasn’t feeling sad. I can’t honestly say what exactly was running through my head, but I never felt that I didn’t understand what was happening. I understood he was not coming back.
I’ve often wondered how different my life would have been had he lived and had I continued living the life of a military brat. Although I don’t remember too much from my first five years of life, I knew that I had some experiences (being born in England, having friends who were not white) that none of my classmates had. I like to think that this somehow gave me a more open mind than some of my peers.
Three lingering effects of his death on my personality:
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Because they were so proximate and integral in making my life more “normal”, I’ve come to view my extended family (grandparents, aunts, uncles, distant cousins, etc.) as important. I want my own kids to have those same close relationships with their families, and thus, have been hesitant to move too far from where I grew up.
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Also, my friends and coworkers often comment on how rational and even-tempered, some would say unemotional, I seem, especially in a crisis. I don’t really bring this up, but it’s because the worse possible thing happened to me when I was five, and you know what, I turned out OK. After that, the small stuff seems like, well, small stuff.
My mom was a wonderful example. She could have been excused for going off the deep end in losing her husband, but she picked up the pieces and focused her energy on raising her kids. Life can suck, but, given time and effort, it usually turns around.
- This may be a generational thing, but being raised by a single mother, I think, has also tempered my exposure to any notions of traditional gender roles. My mom did everything around the house, and we had to help. In my own marriage, I do my share of the housekeeping and child-rearing, without ever thinking that it’s above and beyond what other men might consider appropriate.
In some ways, I miss my father more now than I did growing up. Now that I have children of my own, we share something else in common, and I wish I could talk to him. Now that I am thirty, the age when he died, the future seems a little bit murkier. I have other role models, but as a man, I don’t have THE role model.
Nothing in terms of “becoming a man.” But my dad died 1 month after my mom. After my mom died, I was looking forward to developing a new relationship with him, as well as asking him about and trying to document some of his memories/experiences through tape, video, what-have-you. When he died unexpectedly, it reminded me that there is no guarantee that you will have a future in which to do something that you have put off doing in the present.
One thing I had put on the back burner was my martial arts training. My original teacher had moved away, and I always figured I could pick it up again later when my kids were older. But after my dad died I found a new instructor and was extremely involved in MA for a number of years.
The one thing that stuck with me was that if I REALLY want to do something, I should figure out how to do it now, instead of simply assuming I will be around to do it at some later time.
My father died many years ago, and I really felt a lot of pity for him, because I loved him, but my life changed for the better. He was something of a loser-too weak in things that mattered, too strong in things that didn’t, and he would have influenced me in a bad way. He always intimidated me, even though he wasn’t really mean, and had our good at heart. He just scared me! I was just more free to be what I wanted to be.
FWIW if you’d been put in a childrens’ home in the county where I used to work, you would not have had a bad time. There were bad childrens’ homes, but there were many good ones. You only hear of the bad ones, of course.
My father died 4 months before I was born, leaving my mother to raise two sons. My stepfather died when I was 8, adding two more sons to the mix. Life was tough for a while, but we survived.
My dad died when I was 38. He was my role model, my source of knowledge about what it meant to be a man, a worker, a father, and a husband. He was my biggest supporter & my most gentle constructive critic. He taught me about duty. He taught by example.
When he died, I needed to better assume similar roles for my wife and kids (mom had passed over 3 years earlier). With his passing, I’ve tried more than ever to emulate his good qualities and not perpetuate his bad ones (mercifully few).
It certainly seems that I stepped much more fully into the role of being a responsible adult after his death. Before he died, it often felt like I was faking this “grown-up” thing. After, not so much.
I’m sorry he’s not around to see what I’ve accomplished (and failed at). I’d love to ask for his input on many of the professional challenges I’ve faced since he shuffled off this mortal coil.
After he died, many things changed. Not all the changes were bad.
My father died when I was 45. By then I’d done pretty much all the growing up I would do. Our relationship in the last few years had become more like mentor/protege, and I do miss his analysis and counsel.
It was kind of creepy to have to handle the closing out of his estate, disposal or his prperty, etc., but it wasn’t a mjor life-changing event.