By Jennifer Trask (Guest Contributor)
The “Dead Dad Club” is probably the only club you never want an invitation to. It’s an incredibly difficult club to be associated with, but one that most people will enter at some point in life. If you’re lucky enough to have a kind, loving and supportive father, then it’s an extremely awful initiation. You’re numb, lost, full of regrets and I-should-haves. You feel something any time you hear of someone else losing their father. You know how they’re feeling and you wish they didn’t have to live through the pain. I lost my father 5 years ago, at the age of 28, and not a day goes by that I don’t wish I could talk to him one more time.
The day my dad died I was on a business trip in Salt Lake City. He had been in the hospital, but things were looking up and he demanded that I leave, saying I had been there for him all the time and that I needed to do this for myself. When I got the call from my mother, I was shock, numb and ran outside hoping the fresh air would make this go away and that maybe I’d wake up from this nightmare. I couldn’t function and, thanks to colleagues, managed to get packed and on a plane home. Moving through the airport was like an out of body experience. I was visibly filled with grief and couldn’t stop crying. People stared and a few asked questions, some nodded, likely fellow club members.
The crazy thing about the loss of a parent is that once you get past the initial shock, you don’t have much time to grieve. There are calls to be made, arrangements to take care of, music to gather for the funeral home, a picture tribute to prepare, a eulogy to write, visitations and, of course, the funeral itself and the meal after. You have to figure out what you’re going to wear for the final goodbye and nothing seems right. I broke down in the craft store buying foam boards to make a photo display of my dad’s life for the funeral. The woman at the store asked if she could call anyone and of course that only made it worse because the only person you want to talk to is the one only one you can’t. If you have another parent alive, you go into overdrive worrying about them and trying to make sure they’re okay. At some point it finally sets in and that’s when life gets dark for a while. My father’s death finally set in when I got back from a vacation with my mom 3 months after his death. I realized that I couldn’t call to tell him what a great trip it was. And then it hit me.
When you lose your dad at a young age you think about all of life’s moments ahead that he won’t be a part of. Each holiday, your birthday, his birthday and the anniversary of his death becomes a day when you miss him in the depths of your soul. When I had a bad day at work, I wanted to call him. When I had a good day at work, I wanted to call him. When I bought my house, I wanted to call him. When I started my MBA, I wanted to call him. I think he would be proud of the woman I’ve become and I do find some comfort in that. Even after all those years of being a “Daddy’s Girl,” I still am trying to make him proud.
I have three cousins who joined the “Dead Dad Club” today, and while I mourn the loss of my uncle I can’t help but put myself back to the day that I became a member and wish for their pain to go away. My uncle was one of the most loving and generous people I knew. A pastor, dedicated to helping others, he could tell stories like no one else. He adopted each of these children as infants, giving them a life they never would have had without him. Uncle Toby performed my father’s memorial service and helped me get on with life after my dad died. I remember holidays with him, time at the cottage and laughing at the silly jokes he told. I think of my mom and what she must be feeling at the loss of her brother. Having lost both parents and a spouse, I know that he was an important person in her life and she, like our whole family, will miss him dearly.
I consider the milestones these three kids have ahead and I ache for them already. I wish I could make it go away, but they will get through it somehow and will someday help others new club members through their dark days.
Dedicated to my proud father, Jerry Trask, and my loving uncle, Toby Stadden.
Have you suffered the loss of a parent? Please share your stories and support below.
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As my three year “membership anniversary” into this much despised club is tomorrow, this hit particularly close to home. Thanks for sharing.
I joined the club almost seven years ago when I was 22 years old. The first year without my dad passed in a blur, as I believe I was still in shock. You said it well how bittersweet each new life milestone feels – buying a home, getting married, getting a promotion, having babies. I have two children now and I struggle every day that my dad isn’t here to see how wonderful they are because I know they would have brought great joy to his life.
Thank you for sharing your story.