When you're a child, teenager or an adult who has lost a parent, you can only relate to how others feel when they lose said parent. "I don't have anyone to call Mom." "I don't have anyone to call Dad." It's hard for a child to relate to a parent who has lost a spouse, you can't experience both at the same time, but you will experience it at some point in your life, which is a very unfortunate and a very beautiful part of life.
For the last nine years, I haven't said "Mom." I have said "Dad" though, because he is still here.
My mother and father were best friends. They met a year or so before I was born and fell in love, they got married and had me, their only child together. We did everything a normal family would do: go on vacations, make fun of each other, go to family parties. We weren't always perfect though; I got diagnosed with anxiety disorder when I was seven years old. I was literally afraid of my own shadow and I know that it was hard for them to see me go through that at such a young age. We weren't perfect, but we were perfect enough. My mother was sick a lot, she was always in and out of the hospital with some kind of health issue since I can remember. That was hard on my father. As an adult, I know now what would go on inside his head: “Will my wife come home this time?” Being a child so young and so naïve you think your parents are invincible, that they were superheroes and could never be defeated. I never understood why he was so sad when she would go to the hospital. My father was a young father, he had me at 27 and that’s really young to me. Of course he would be worried every time she went away.
In my last article, I wrote about my mother’s death and how it affected me. This is from a daughter’s perspective on how it affected my father. It was a huge loss for the both of us, we were both hurting so bad and we didn’t know how to turn to each other. I would purposely stay away from our house; it triggered too much for me. I left my father alone a lot and that’s on me. I couldn’t watch this wonderful man get more and more heartbroken each day. I would get so frustrated with him because I didn’t understand why he couldn’t go out and be social and be human, I mean, I lost my mother. Yes, those selfish words had poisoned my brain for months after. If I could, I would smack teenage me and tell her to stop being a mean daughter. My father didn’t want to do those things because he lost his wife. He lost his best friend, the woman he was supposed to grow old with, the woman who was supposed to be with when I have babies and when I get married. He was now branded a widower. My father tried, he tried so hard to be there for me physically and mentally when it was so hard for me to be there mentally. I would come stumbling in the house, drunk, not giving a care in the world who saw me or who was mad at me. The one time my father was assertive and concerned I got mad at him for caring.
Two years after my mom passed away, he met someone, and I was mad. I was absolutely furious, I wasn’t happy so I didn’t want him to be happy. It is perfectly normal for a man to move on fairly soon after a death or a divorce, and it is very normal for a child to lash out like I did. He loved this woman, I know he did, and in some sort of way, she brought him happiness which he needed. My father lost his happiness all over again when he lost his second wife in 2013. My father was a widow TWICE. How does a man go through the death of his two wives and still manage to be standing on two feet? That’s because my father is a superhero. I’m 26 years old and I now understand what he went through and why we had our ups and downs. He was grieving hard and trying to be there for me and also for himself. He did the best that he could and I don’t blame him for anything. I have my faults, he has his faults but it doesn’t change that we are still standing because of the mushroom cloud God handed to us for almost ten years. Living with a widowed parent is a lot different then what books and media make it out to be. I watched my father slowly disappear mentally and physically and I also watched my father become that strong, loving, wonderful man all over again who he will always be. I will always be a daddy’s girl and I will always own up to everything I’ve ever done wrong during the time after losing her.
When your parent loses a wife or husband, don’t think that it’s a lost cause, because it’s not. They’re in there, struggling to break free, to grab the rope, to keep climbing even though everything in their body is sore. They’re struggling to climb up that rope to get to you. Their child, their joy, a human being that he or she created. They will walk through fire and break down walls to get to you, to let you know that even though they are in so much pain…you are why their heart keeps beating.
