Father's Day-Part 1
Craig had a weird obsession with holidays. He kept a list and an excel tracker sheet that he updated regularly which listed any and all observances he could find. He had it broken down by month, week, and day. At the beginning of every month, he would circulate an email, denoting the upcoming observances, and in some instances would decorate his work cubicle accordingly. He was especially fond of the less common knowledge holidays like January 11th being “learn your name in Morse code day”, or the first week of May is “Dog anxiety awareness week”, and a personal passion of his, October is “National cyber security awareness month”.
Most would find this unnecessary, ridiculous, and nonsensical, I however was delighted and endeared by it. From the moment I first learned that he did this, I waited for my email with baited breath on the first of every month.
It’s been one of the most noticeably absent things in my life since Craig died. I find myself longing for those emails and go to his computer to read through the list periodically. I had however, briefly forgotten it was June, and as my eyes traced the list of observances this most recent time, I felt a hitch in my breath when I happened upon June 18th. “Oh…Father’s Day…” a wave of morose fell over me. I remembered how difficult last year had been and how I dreaded the impending tv commercials, Facebook suggested ads, and store end-caps that would serve as painful reminders for what my children didn’t have.
As I sat there feeling sorry for my kids, I began to ponder how Craig’s absence would affect them in the long run. We all know about the importance of a father-figure in children’s lives, how absolutely integral a male role model is for kids to grow up well adjusted, or at least that is what studies say. Personally, I am very blessed to still have my dad and he and I are very close. I felt lucky in that regard, as I again acknowledged that this blessing is something my kids would never experience. I couldn’t help but wonder if his presence in their lives would be enough. Maybe not as statistically beneficial as having their own father, but beneficial nevertheless. But the more I pondered, the more I realized, that as good of a grandfather he is, he is not their dad.
So exactly how impactful will this traumatic life event be for my kids? How do I ensure that they become well-adjusted in spite of this loss? I began researching the affects of absent fathers on young kids, I guess I needed some sort of reassurance that my kids would turn out ok. The statistics were staggering (and less than comforting).
1 out of every 5 children in the United States is Fatherless,
That is enough kids to completely fill NYC twice over!
“Holy shit!” I thought, how is this not talked about more?! According to the US Census, 16% of Fatherless homes are a result of death. It was at this point I found myself down a depressing rabbit hole… I kept finding statistic after statistic that felt like my kids were suddenly up against this unclimbable mountain. I was gob smacked by the laundry list of potential obstacles they would now have to overcome.
The university of Princeton, in association with the National Fatherhood Initiative conducted a 9-year study based around the neurological and sociological repercussions of paternal loss. I won’t bore you with the nitty gritty, but if you’re interested, you can read about it HERE. Ultimately what they found was a significant increased risk for drug use, incarceration, generalized delinquency, early/frequent sexual behaviors, and depression. In addition to that, they found that the severe trauma and stress associated with grief actually had an impact physically. These children underwent a cellular change and rapid deterioration of “Telomeres”, or DNA caps. These telomeres are meant to protect the chromosomes from fraying and this accelerated aging, or “shortening” of the telomere quickens cellular death. This increases risk of infections, lung disease, coronary artery disease, strokes, as well as causes significant neurological dysfunction.
“HOLY SHIT!” I thought again, this sounds really really bad. I was in utter shock and felt completely helpless. I knew how hard the last two years had been on my freshly teenaged son and felt an increased sense of panic around his future and overall well-being. Then I began to cry, I thought of my daughter. She was less than 2 years old when Craig died. How would this absence shape who she becomes? “Pull yourself together!” I yelled at myself in my head. Lots of people I know have lost their dad and turned out just fine. I paused… and repeated that to myself, this time out loud “Lots of people I know have lost their father….”. I became alarmed as I started casually counting, 1,2, 3...…14,15…. 20?! “That’s not possible” I questioned my math. I recounted, and sure enough, off the top of my head, without struggle, I could list 23 people who had lost their father, not including my own children.
My morbid curiosity ran rampant and I took to my friend list on social media. Who did I know but was forgetting? Turns out, I knew about 30 people whose father had passed away. I scribbled all the names down feverishly, maybe secretly hoping that I’d somehow counted twice, and I began to notice common themes. First, most were women, second, most had experienced this trauma while in their 20’s/30’s, and most notably, the death had been relatively unexpected; a quality they shared with my kids. This can’t be right. This can’t be normal… but sure enough I learned while loss at a young age (0-17) is not the norm…
69% of Americans have lost their father by time they reach the age of 50.
that’s like 7 out of 10 people! (Looks left, looks right… realize I’m the minority…).
I was on a mission at this point. Or some weird fever dream witch hunt, I was set on finding out just how bad my kids were going to have it. So, I posted on social media, calling for anyone who wanted to share with me what their experience was like, and what started as a purely selfish research endeavor, blossomed into one of the most humbling things I’ve been a part of.
I had many people reach out to me, willing to share their story, but ultimately, I got the opportunity to speak with 5 separate individuals in great detail about their dad. Given how important these men were in the lives of those kind enough to share, I thought it important for them to not get buried at the bottom of my ramblings and lost in the shuffle. I felt it imperative to give them their own stage, which is why I split this blog into 2 parts. So, without further ado, head on over to Part two!