Hallmark Holidays
The male perspective in this particular flavor of grief is so often overlooked by what I'll call "society at large." Husbands are often asked how their wives are doing, but the question is seldom posed to them directly. Men walk a fine line between what is acceptable in grief, and what is acceptable emotionally to display as a man. Today CDE, of Once in a Lifetime, contributes his thoughts on a difficult holiday. CDE and his wife, STE of So Dear and Yet So Far, lost their twin sons in December/January '07-08.
In the past, I'd never given Father's Day that much thought. It was a Hallmark holiday, like Valentine's Day, like Mother's Day. It was a day to call my father and shoot the breeze with him for a little bit. But not much else. I remember one especially amusing one, during a period when my life had sort of gone to shit, when some cable channel thought it'd be good to show Death of a Salesman for Father's Day. Nothing says "I love you, Dad" like infidelity, suicide, and the shabby, slow death of the American Dream. But Father's Day? No big deal. I spent most of my early adult life being spectacularly unsuited for fatherhood.
Eventually, I got to the point where I probably wasn't any less qualified for the job than most people. I'd matured, developed prospects, and most importantly, found someone who wanted to bear my children. When our lives reached the point that we could actually consider trying to have kids, the thought of being a father filled me with something resembling terror. That terror subsided once we realized that it wasn't going to be as simple as having unprotected sex at the right time of the month. It was hard to lose sleep over the impending upheaval of my life and identity as a person when repeated IUIs yielded nothing more than a lot of crushed hopes. Eventually, the fear of being a parent subsided, replaced by the fear of never being a parent. And in the process, I'd spent a lot of time thinking about the importance of fathers. What it means to be a man, and to be a father. What is expected of us, what isn't expected. The roles men do and don't play. I resolved to be a good father. To stand beside my wife and raise our children right, to be strong, smart, brave and kind.
Eventually, we got pregnant. And immediately, the terror came back, but shot through with elation. We found out that we were having twin boys. I was going to be a father to two boys, and immediately I began thinking about how I would talk to them, how I would explain the birds and the bees, how you shouldn't start fights, but should finish them, how being smart was nothing of which you should be ashamed. How I would tell a son who came out to me that he was loved just the way he was. I added the Dangerous Book for Boys to my Amazon wish list. Boys. Twin boys. I think it was at that point that it stopped being fatherhood and started being Fatherhood. And then we lost the boys, and it stopped being fatherhood, Fatherhood, or anything else.
And it's at this point, in the middle of my grief, my loss, my sadness and rage, that Father's Day finally means something. It is yet another reminder of who I could have been, but am not, and may never be. It is my empty arms, my days not spent shopping for onesies and strollers, my evenings not spent cooking dinner for the family, my nights not spent with a baby asleep on my chest. I am mourning the absence of something I never actually had. No child grew inside me, nobody expected me to have the same connection to my boys that my wife did. But even though all I had was the idea, the potential, the love for what could have been, that emptiness, that lack of possibility, hurts so much that some days it drains me, empties me, robs me of the desire to do anything but sit on the couch and retreat into the shelter of fiction. I've been told that I'm not like the average man, and I strongly suspect that I wouldn't have been like the average father. But the role of father is one I had learned to take seriously, to respect, and one to which I aspired over the last two years. Father's Day would be a new chance for celebration, for recognition. Hallmark holiday? Sure. But "hallmark" has multiple meanings, and I'm spending this particular holiday acutely aware of falling short of one.
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I have never read a post about this unbearable loss from the Dad's perspective before. Thank you for sharing with us, and for what it's worth.....it sounds like your boys are lucky to have you as their Father. Take care.
Heartbreaking post, C. Stupid me, you know, I never even gave the word "Hallmark" much thought until I read this. And try as they might, they certainly don't anticipate all of the hallmarks, do they. Nor do we. Thinking of you -- and all the dads -- today, especially.
I think you are like many men who go through this loss side-by-side with their wives, however your talent lies in the ability to put words to what would otherwise just be described as shitty, unbearable pain.
I think about my father and my father-in-law in the hospital when I was in labor. I found out later from my step-mother and mother-in-law how hard they took this loss. They, even though were fathers, were waiting in earnest for their grandchild. These feelings are cyclic I think. Their arms, unbelievably empty and their hearts forever broken for me and my husband.
We as a society do tend to forget the fathers' grief, but I applaud you for putting words to it, describing it. No, you didn't physically carry your boys, but they were part of you and changed you forever. You are a great dad.
Thinking of you and your wife on this day....
Reese
C I will be thinking of you today.
CDE, thank you for contributing your beautiful post. It makes me sad for you, and it's also worth remarking (to me at least) that your feelings are strangely similar to mine--and to a lot of other parents who have lost a child. I think that some part of why society overlooks the man's grief is attributable to the fact that we rarely get to hear about how the man grieves. So I want to thank you, not just for contributing, but for putting your thoughts and feelings out there in general. I hope that you can inspire other men to delve into the depths of their emotions b/c I think we're all better for having experienced the journey--no matter how hard that is to do.
CDE...this was an amazing, moving post. thinking of you and the dads in your shoes on this strange day.
Thank you for this poignant post. My heart is with you and STE.
thanks, CDE for sharing this. aside from such an eloquent sharing of the elusive male POV, it is so poignant a telling of the longing we share. the significance of a day that marks what you have lost is hard enough. but I think days like this are even harder when the future is shrouded with uncertainty as to what will ever be... thanks as always for telling your story.
I started a response, but it got too long. Here is the whole thing: http://sodearandyetsofar.blogspot.com/2008/06/fathers-day.html
I fail to articulate my emotions from this post, but I did not want to leave and say nothing. I have read your posts on your blog before, and once again, you have touched me deeply.
Happy Belated Father's Day CDE. I know it's not a happy one, but you, and all of our husbands, deserve to hear that. Thank you for putting into words the Dad's persepctive. You are all too often ignored in this journey, and that breaks my heart. Thinking of you.
CDE, I'm so grateful for your perspective. Both STE and the boys chose you for who you are, for the warmth in your heart. It feels presumptuous to say to a stranger through this medium, to presume to know you somehow through one blog post, but you've given us a glimpse of something so honourable, and so graceful... I'm moved and thankful and thinking of you all.
I would like to say this is a fantastic post and I'm so sorry for your loss.