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When Fathers
Die A 62 year-old man wrote
me about his father's recent death. David had been very close to his father and he was not getting much sympathy from friends
or loved ones, especially from the other men in his family. In fact, one uncle (the deceased man's younger brother) had ridiculed
his nephew for being childish: "Parents die, kid. Time to grow up." David was hurt and angered by his uncle's remark
and asked me if his feelings of deep grief were abnormal or signs of weakness on his part. Here is my response:
Dear David,
I am so sorry for the death of your beloved father. Grief is our expression of love for the dear
ones who have died. My prayer for you is that eventually the rawness and vulnerability you're feeling now will ease, and the
day will come when dismissive comments will not hurt as much. In the meantime, know that your deep sense of loss is a natural
response to the death of your precious father, whatever his age or however old you are--and you don't have to explain that
to anyone.
Of course parents die, we all die. What your insensitive uncle fails to understand is that even though
parents die, that fact doesn't mean you were ready to give your father up, or that you hurt less because he was old. The grief
associated with the death of elderly parents is minimized because it doesn't carry the tragedy of premature death. That somehow,
because it is in the natural order of things, it doesn’t hurt. This is untrue, at least for you and me.
As
grief writer Ken Doka says, If you were twelve years old, no one would believe it odd that you would grieve the loss of
your {dad}, so why do we assume it is easier fifty years later? Those fifty additional years carry even more shared memories.
Consider these thoughts about loss from the book On Grief and Grieving by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross and David
Kessler:
Losses are very personal and comparisons
never apply. No loss counts more than another. It is your loss that counts for you. It is your loss that affects you.
Your loss is deep and deserves your personal attention without comparison. You are the only one who can survey the
magnitude of your loss. No one will ever know the meaning of what was shared, the deepness of the void that shadows your future.
You alone know your loss….
….Your task in your own mourning and grieving is to fully recognize your
own loss, to see it as only you can. In paying the respect and taking the time it deserves, you bring integrity to the deep
loss that is yours.
There is a well moderated grief discussion board that you might find supportive, but only
you know how to grieve your father's death. You don't have to write anything but sometimes just reading other entries is helpful.
It is called Hospice of the Valley. I'll leave you with a poem. It helped me when my father died. I hope it comforts you a little, too.
My Father's Death By May Sarton
After the laboring
birth, the clean stripped hull Glides down the ways and is gently set free, The landlocked, launched; the cramped
made bountiful-- Oh, grave, great moment when ships take the sea! Alone now in my life, no longer child, This
hour and its flood of mystery, Where death and love are wholly reconciled, Launches the ship of all my history. Accomplished now is the last struggling birth, I have slipped out from the embracing shore Nor look for comfort
to maternal earth. I shall not be a [son] any more, But through this final parting, all stripped down, Launched
on the tide of love, go out full grown.
With caring thoughts, Christine Jette
Go to next page: I Can't Believe He's Dead
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