The Day my Husband Lost his Father …

It was a normal, hectic day. He had taken our son to school and made himself a little late for work.

It was Election day, and we planned to vote while he was on his lunch break. The day went as expected, nothing out of the ordinary, until. It was almost 4:30 in the afternoon when I got a text.

It was a screenshot of a message between him and his sister. As I read through that message, I was shocked. “Mom just called, and I couldn’t understand her” “she just texted saying dad is killed.”

He replied with “he’s dead?????”

He had been working on a car when the supports slipped, it fell, killing him. He was 62. My husband is only 31, the youngest of six children; he and his father spoke every day.

The following twenty minutes are still lost to me, all I can remember is driving as fast as I could to get to Gabriel. He was still at work and hadn’t even had time to tell me to come to get him; I was already on my way.

After picking him up I asked what he knew, he said nothing. We sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, just existing together and trying to understand what reality this was.

Neither of us had ever experienced the loss of a parent, and it was too painful to talk about.

As we drove I could see he was thinking, but thinking when you’re in pain like this doesn’t actually produce any solutions, you’re rewinding all the things you have done with your family member and how much of an impact they have had on you and your children.

It isn’t unproductive, however, because these will be the most important memories of them. I think the brain does that on purpose. Otherwise, grief would win out and your mind would just go blank.

Having never been in this situation, being a wife with a grieving husband, I was so lost. I didn’t know what would help or hurt, would a warm embrace bring him back from the brink? Or would it just remind him of his dad and cause him to recoil in sadness?

So many questions, and no protocol. This is where you stand as the outsider of loss. Racking your brain trying to help, when you too are enduring the loss of a father-in-law and a grandfather, the man he was to you.

Time for myself to cope was unthinkable; I hadn’t lost my father, only the man who became my father after Gabriel and I got engaged. I was a part of this family, and I had to deal with my version of this loss in my own way, in time, but not now.

The funeral was on a Saturday, one of those icy November days that tear through your layers of warmth to reveal your insecurities and remind you that in the grand scheme of things, you have no real power.

A suitable day as any to bury someone you love.

When it comes your time to love your husband through the loss of a parent, I hope you understand that you must put yourself last, but still find time to grieve, after all, you loved him too. It will get easier and the days will return to normal, for you, but they will likely never be “normal” for him.

The man who taught him how to love you and your children is gone, and this will affect your husband deeply and profoundly. His moral compass, what most men receive from their fathers throughout the years is missing. He will no longer be there for a quick phone call if we are stranded, or he needs help figuring out how to fix the water pipe.

There will be so many of these little moments where he will miss the presence of his father. I only hope I can be a beacon of strength and hope for him that all is not lost, even if it seems as though his world has stopped turning.

It will turn again, one day, he will be a grandfather too, and he will get to live the moments that his father lived in the latter part of his life, all over again. I hope he recognizes the connections and revels in the warmth and peace they will bring him.