My Father Is Dead and I Shed Not A Tear

This past weekend, my estranged father passed away. I have not spoken to him in over 15 years. My brother and I in sound mind and wisdom disowned him. We were fed up with the bad behavior, the lack of love and affection as well as attention and we felt in our heart that he had given up on us so we gave him essentially what he wanted and that was free from his responsibilities and ties to us and our mother. I was a high school graduate so I really knew what I was doing at the time plus some teen angst mixed in I’m sure. But after the divorce he kept moving farther and farther away making it harder [or easier] for all involved to stay better in touch. He stopped calling us as much and the holiday and birthday cards/gifts were either months late or not received at all. In other words he gave up on us. I never regretted that letter nor looked back at that fateful decision that should be a very sad and hard decision to make but even as I learned of his demise on Saturday evening I felt nothing. Couldn’t even think of a positive memory shared with the man. I went on enjoying my evening with a good friend and watched movies and drank some beers. On my late night car drive home that same evening I tried in vain to feel sad or sorry or even hate or anger but none were to be found.

I tried to feel something because quite frankly the man who gave me life is gone for good and still nothing came. My mother’s first husband and Maddie’s grandfather is never going to be seen again and still no emotion. After two more days and spending time with my wife and daughter and my brother and mother yesterday I still feel nothing. I’m not ashamed to say I don’t feel an ounce of sadness because for 15 years he has been but a memory for me; he was already essentially dead. However, I still felt a ghost of him lurking in the shadows of my life and the possibility of him contacting me was slim but it was still feasible to still see him. Well that ghost is gone now. I’ll never talk to him again nor will be know my wife and his beautiful grand-daughter. He died utterly alone and that was his choice.

I’ve been thinking about my father a lot in these past 2 years since I’ve become a father myself. He was the inspiration [or lack thereof] for fatherhood I needed to be EXACTLY the opposite the man, husband and father he was. He abused and ruined not only his life but his family’s as well. A very bright man who not only fell from grace but stayed there for good and is now the greatest failure I will ever be unlucky enough to know. My daughter is MY LIFE now. No question or doubt. My sole motivation in life is to make sure she is happy, healthy and lives a great life. Even if she hates me I will make sure she lives a great life. My father didn’t give two shits when we wrote that letter to him. He asked me if I wrote it and stood by it and told me [TOLD ME!] he loved me and that he’ll always be there for me. But, Hey, at least I can remember vividly the last words my father told me. At least for his sake it was sweet albeit completely hollow. If Maddie wrote me a letter telling me to never bother with her again, I don’t care what continent I was on I’ll be on the first flight back to her. Of course I plan on never being too far from her ever in her life anyway to get to a letter. My esteem is high enough not to feel that my father left us because we didn’t make him proud or even make him happy. He was just never cut out or equipped to be a father. Maybe too selfish to fully give all of himself to his children but he made a ton of mistakes and we as his sons were willing to live with some of those mistakes to still call him Dad but then he made even more and worse mistakes. And now he left a very poor, miserable and lonely corpse.

As a father now I just can’t fathom treating my family the way he did. The boozing, drugs and womanizing really fucked up his life to ways I can’t believe I once called him Dad. It was sad and tragic when I was growing up but as a proud father now myself It’s downright deplorable and embarrassing that a very smart adult could treat himself and his loving family in such a destructive way. Now I’m not unique going through this life experience. Which is the sadder and more tragic aspect of this article. Many many fathers are, in a word, dead-beats to their families and it’s such a sin.

My father’s father, one of the greatest men I ever knew, told my father after the divorce “You messed up with your wife, Don’t ever mess up with your children.” Sound and wise advice I have to agree with 110%.

Sadly he didn’t heed that advice and that’s why I have zero advice from my old man. Who, at the young age of 62, is now dead with only his brothers as his next-of-kin.

However, the lesson he gave me to NEVER BE LIKE HIM, speaks volumes to my ears.

N.A.B. 02/09/1949–08/13/2011