Inequality & the Church--video
Of Mice and Men

A Milestone Passed

My father died when he was 41 years old.  Since I was sixteen I've said that 41 would be my "weird year."  A few years ago I got a complete cardiac workup and the cardiologist said that though he could give no guarantees, my heart was fine and I would most likely live past 41.  That day, as we drove away from the cardiologist's office, I began to cry and Michael said, "I don't understand.  You received good news."  I answered, "Knowing I will live longer than Dad is a good thing, but it also makes me sad."

But 41 has ended up being the best year--the year of our son's birth.  I've never been happier or more content.

Yesterday afternoon I realized that last Wednesday was the day I lived longer than my father did.  Yes, I cried when I realized that.  Earlier in the day we visited Dad's grave.  I know Dad isn't there and that I've talked to him (or, at least the idea of him) about Sebastian since my son was born, but I still wanted to "introduce" Sebastian to Dad.  The moment was tender.  Sebastian was craning his neck, like usual, wanting to take everything in around him, but when we stepped to Dad's grave, Sebastian turned around and calmly looked down, his gaze lingering.

I've missed Dad and cried more about his death this year than the last fifteen years combined.  But the grief is not because I'm forty-one.  I wish I could share this moment of being a father with him.

Comments

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terence hawkins

I was truly moved by this. I'm so glad you got a clean bill of health, though!

Keith Vire

Scott, my dad died at 53, and I had the same emotions when I passed that milestone twelve years ago. I predict that these reflections aren't over yet--you'll continue to think about your dad and the things that you (and he) missed throughout the years. I often find myself thinking about the great things in my life that my dad didn't get to experience. He never got to be a grandfather--never got to meet Julie or Kris, the two greatest accomplishments in my life. Those thoughts come often. Even though I know the answer, I find myself wondering if he'd be proud of how I turned out, what I've been able to do with the life he (and my mom) gave me. Now, I find myself wishing at least once a week, that he could meet Jonah. I know he'd love Jonah, and I'm pretty sure Jonah would love him. I'm with you my friend.

Pamela Owens

Rick's Dad died of a (first) heart attack at 57 and Rick went through the same thing. Getting a cardiac work up, all of that. I had no idea how common this phenomenon is for men, especially as they become fathers. I don't think there is anything quite comparable among women, although knowing you've inherited the breast cancer gene might be the same or worse. But it is very touching and I thank you for sharing.

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