Paying my dues to the club

If there is a heaven, this is what it would look like for my father.

The day my father died suddenly was the day fate handed me a lifetime membership in The Dead Dads Club. Everything shifted in my world, which had already turned on its axis 18 months earlier with the birth of my first child.

I like to think I grew up that year, that I became a better person as a result of these events.  I like to think once I change for the better, it is a permanent change. Just as all of life is fleeting, so is any state of being. One day I woke up to realize I am riding the same trajectory as my father.

Today, my post is on Mama Mary’s newly launched site, The Dead Dads Club. It is through this longtime endeavor of Mary’s that we met online four years ago. The site is a companion piece to her book, a compilation of essays from other members of the club. It’s  a club we all wish didn’t exist, to which diminishing membership would be a plus. But life is not like that. People come into our lives and they leave. Ours is not to know the when, where, and why, only to know that it is inevitable and we must stumble along the dark path from grief to healing.

Click on over and read for yourself. Thank you.

6 thoughts on “Paying my dues to the club

    • Jayne: Oh, I’m sorry you didn’t know your father. As much as I sometimes loathe inherited traits, at least I know the origins.

    • Meleah: Oh, you just made me realize there’s much about you I do not know. Death of a parent brings out such contradictory emotions. At first I put my father on a pedestal, focusing solely on his good qualities. Over time, I began to realize it was the bad habits and traits that led to his demise. Finally, I realize we all are a mix of good and bad. We need to focus on our legacy, especially if we have children. I’m all-at-once sad and relieved that he is gone. In the end, I use his passing as a life lesson: What not to do.

  1. What good fortune and blessing that I came here today.

    Must get to Mary’s.

    me, too: a member of the dead dad’s club.

    I just spoke at the moth last week, about how much I miss my father. He killed himself when I was 6 and I still miss him. 40 years later, and I still miss him.

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