The Dead Dads Club
We have shamelessly stolen this brilliant blog from Janine Gianfredi, – for anyone who has lost a parent it’s a must read. For anyone who knows someone who has recently lost a parent it’s also a must read. Thank you so much to Janine…..
“During my Dadโs wake last year, my long-time friend took me away from the crowd. Sheโd lost her Dad a decade prior, in her twenties, a time when friends arenโt the best equipped to help with the serious stuff. I still wonder if we helped her at all. She gave me a hug and said, โWelcome to the Dead Dad Club. No one wants to be a member, but at least we have each other.โ Tracy and I met in high school, but we are NYC friends, which means no bullshitting. She was the only one who would say โdead.โ Even the nurse who called just before midnight, softly told my Mom, โPhil has expired.โ
Tracy spoke the truth, and the word โdeadโ stuck to me, as did the welcome to a not-so-exclusive club, though the meaning didnโt surface until months later. After a loved one dies, youโre expected to relive the emotion incessantly, as every well-intentioned person in your life asks โHow are you doing?โ Sometimes, they put a hand on your shoulder; usually, they look directly into your eyes, silently pleading with you to open your heart. Unable to conjure the energy to genuinely deal with this question, I simply numbed myself. Banal replies worked best.
โOh, hanging in there.โ
โIt was a relief at the end.โ
โHeโs in a better place.โ
Sometimes I used my newly half-orphaned status as a personal defense weapon. In response to the person who said, after my 2 week retreat to Bali,
โIt must be nice to take such a long vacation.โ
โWellโฆmy Dad died a few months ago.โ
I started to swap passed and died, depending on whether my conversation partner seemed truly interested or just morbidly curious.
There is one place where these mental gymnastics arenโt necessary โ the Dead Dad Club. Or maybe itโs the Dead Parents Club. Its members say most of the same things as everyone else, but are more visceral in their delivery. They are perhaps less empathetic, but their rawness is more comforting.
So for those of you who are not part of this Club that no one wants to join, I offer some tips for handling its newly inducted members. We donโt want to welcome you into the Club, because we love you and your parents. But we are as sure as the Earth goes โround the sun that someday, we will.
Share your memories. Your experience with the deceased was unique, with some moments shared in private. In the days immediately following my Dadโs death, so many people who loved him emailed and texted us with little stories and thoughts. His favorite pastry was sfogliatella. Everyone in his orbit felt special and loved. He never got mad. Tiny mysteries of my Dadโs life were uncovered in those notes, and I consumed them greedily.
Reach out. Text, call, put that emoji heart on the Facebook post. It matters.And please, donโt try to relate this experience to your own death experience.โWhen my Grandma passed awayโฆโ Itโs not your moment.
Write cards. I received a handwritten card from every member of the Dead Dad Club that I knew. From now on, I will never skip this step, of taking the time to write my love and thoughts on a piece of paper.
Send food. One dear friend trekked to my Dadโs favorite Middle Eastern restaurant to provide a feast for the night before the wake. Another sent a basket full of comfort food to eat in the middle of the day. One more shared a spread of bagels before the funeral procession. On the days that no one sent food, my Mom and I got by on donuts and Chardonnay.
Donโt apologize. Some friends sent cards and flowers several weeks after my Dad had passed away, and they always came with an apology. โIโm so sorry this is late.โ We didnโt take inventory, of who sent what, when. The flowers that came a few months after his death reminded me of his love, the thing Dead Dad Club members try so very hard to preserve.
Be forgiving. Newly inducted Dead Dad Club members might be terrible friends for a while. Some might not be very diligent at work, others will throw themselves into it. A few will want to party, several might go into a hole. They might be different, maybe for good. Forgive them, and stick by their sides.
Remember. Months later, a friend took me to lunch and asked โOkay, how are you doing now? I know this doesnโt go away.โ She caught me off guard, a realization that I wasnโt actually doing so well. For me, 1 year later feels a lot worse than 1 month later. So it means a lot when people still remember to remember him.
And seriously, I hope your membership card gets lost in the mail”.
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