Since publishing my first piece here, I accidentally realized that more than a few people in my life had no idea about some pretty significant moments of my life. I sort of “came out” to those (many of whom consider themselves to be close with me) who had no idea about my experiences with loss, specifically the loss of my dad.
It’s not like I have intentionally been hiding this from people, but talking about my dad’s death has been a “don’t ask, don’t tell” situation for me.
I’m truly more than willing to talk about it/him, and I’m very open to answering questions — if you ask. The issue with that is “have you ever experienced the death of a parent” is not really a question anyone asks…ever.
I’ll talk about past anecdotes of things my dad did in life with anyone, but mentioning my dad’s death is not an easy thing to just casually bring up.
So this leaves people who didn’t know me 3 to 4 years ago several ways to find out about dad:
1. The “Do You Live at Home or On Campus” question. When I answer that I live at home with my mom, sometimes the line of questions stops there, in which case I let the issue rest. Other times, it goes to “Oh, are your parents divorced?” or “Where does your dad live?” in which case, SURPRISE! Dad’s dead.
2. The “How Much Student Loan Debt Do You Have” question. The answer is none, which is a feat of impossible proportions for most, and I am so blessed to not have debt, right? Not so much, when you consider that my lack of debt is due to the fact that my dad worked for my university, and I get free tuition as an “employee survivor benefit.” That explanation is somewhat of a mood killer.
3. The “Does Your Dad Do This/That” and other past/present tense issues.
Option 3 is a bit trickier for me, because the past/present tense thing always throws me off. Dad’s been gone three years, and at this point I’m comfortable referring to him in the past tense, but it becomes a problem when people who don’t know he died ask questions about him using the present tense.
A few months ago I made a joke with an acquaintance at church, and she responded, “you have that quick, witty sense of humor, so does your mom. Does your dad have it too?” I totally froze, and ended up just saying “yes.” It’s not completely a lie; my sense of humor absolutely comes from my dad. But saying it felt like a lie, because the question was “does your dad have it,” so my response should have been, “yes, he had it.”
Other times when the conversation goes there, whoever I’m talking to doesn’t quite pick up on it. A friend very recently asked me what my parents do for a living. I was pretty certain this friend was (or probably should have been) aware that my dad didn’t do anything anymore.
I responded by telling her what my mom does. She, again, pressed and asked about my dad’s occupation, so I told her what he did. She didn’t seem to quite grasp my tense usage and moved on in the conversation, so I let it drop.
The difficult part is that the decisions I make regarding when to bring it up, when to answer honestly, and when to let it go are choices that can absolutely make or break a friendship.
My dad died on a Saturday, and I was supposed to go to a church meeting on Sunday. Obviously, I wrote the person in charge of the meeting and told him I wouldn’t be there the next day. He announced to everyone why I wasn’t there. Everyone knew. But at the next meeting a few weeks later, not a single soul mentioned it.
It was already a “hush-hush” situation that was, apparently, too “taboo” or awkward to speak of.
From then on, the vast majority of the people I considered friends gradually walked out of my life; I was “that girl” who made people uncomfortable to be around.
If that was the reaction from my church people, the people who were there for me every step of the way through my dad’s illness and who supported me for years, how am I, now, supposed to expect anyone to react? My go-to instinct is to think “if this person knows my dad is dead, they will no longer want to speak to me.”
And it’s weird, because people who I think honestly care about me will say things like “do you have someone to talk to about this,” and my answer is...not exactly. I had people while my dad was sick, for sure. But that was easy.
It’s easy for people to ask “how is your dad doing,” “how is his treatment going,” and “how are you doing IN RELATION to how your dad is doing.” Those are “form letter” answers for people to ask when someone has cancer.
But afterward? What are they going to ask? When you can’t ask about the dead person anymore, it’s really uncomfortable for people to ask things about you, because to a certain degree, the answer is known.
- I’m going to say I’m fine whether I am or not, because that’s the socially acceptable thing to do.
- People are going to accept that answer as fact because pressing for a different answer would lead to an uncomfortable result.
As for the new relationships I’ve formed, if the conversation gets to the point where they learn about the deaths of my loved ones, what are they supposed to say? They weren’t there for those years of my life, so relating to an experience they weren’t part of isn’t easy.
Extraordinarily Self-Confident Jordan would say that anyone who can’t accept my dad’s death/how his death emotionally affects me doesn’t deserve to be a part of my life anyway. And, if they choose to be uncomfortable with death, it’s their loss and they’re missing out on how great I am. But the fact is I’m not Extraordinarily Self-Confident Jordan all the time.
I’m a human being who would really like to make friends and maintain relationships without jumping over a hurdle of DEATH.
I have to keep reminding myself that my dad is not a dirty secret I should have to keep hidden. He’s a person who existed. He’s my dad, just like anyone else’s dad.
I definitely have a long way to go in becoming a stronger force of nature, and I need to work on being comfortable bringing up my dad without being prompted or asked, but the fact is this:
It would be a lot easier to be comfortable bringing him up if everyone else was comfortable hearing about him.
Jordan has lost her father, grandfather, mentor and friend in the past five years. Dealing with sequential losses has been difficult, but her faith in God and an abundance of conversations over coffee have helped her push through. She has always considered herself a writer, and she currently studies English and Journalism at Northern Illinois University. In her spare time she enjoys serving at her church, wedding planning and cuddling with her cat.
This is so true, my dad died almost 2 years ago and this year I went to college. Nobody knows about my dad and it feels like they don’t know me although I see them a lot. Thank you so much for writing this, it really helps to see I’m not the only one who feels like this.
Oh I feel exactly the same! My dad died almost 2 years ago, and none of the people I have met at university know about him, and I just feel so odd. I would love to talk about him, but it’s such a conversation killer. I’m glad you’re out there too.