Losing My Parents Made Me a Better Father
Nobody likes to talk about death because it reminds us of our own mortality—-which can be pretty morose if not downright depressing.
I recently wrote about some unexpected insights regarding grief, mourning, and loss specific to the death of my parents.
However, beyond those crummy aspects of death and dying there are also insights that can help us get more enjoyment from the moments we still have with those we love.
For me, those insights have the greatest application toward being a parent. Not only have they helped me become a better dad, but their manifested fruits within the lives of my kids have actually helped me cope with the loss of my own folks.
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1. Make Memories Now
One of the best memories I have as a child was when my parents unexpectedly took my siblings and I all out of school in the middle of the day in late May 1977.
They didn’t tell us what they were doing until we pulled into a movie theater parking lot, turned off the engine to our used Pontiac Grand Safari station wagon complete with faux wood paneling and gave each of us a ticket to see a midday matinee of the brand new movie Star Wars.
I was eight years old going on nine, and I’d never experienced the sense of delight and euphoria that I did until that moment.
Not only was I blown away by the movie, but I was equally blown away at the unexpected coolness of my parents and what they did.
Years later I came across a quote by James M. Barrie that beautifully captured that random movie moment:
God gave us memory so we might have roses in December.
I’m grateful that my parents gave me that blossom as I continue toward December, and it’s inspired my wife and I to ensure our children are laden with treasured memory bouquets of their own.
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2. Ask Your Kids to Forgive You
Every parent makes mistakes raising their kids.
I’m not going to try to define what those mistakes look like because one parent’s honest slip-up might be an unforgivable cardinal sin based on differing morals, experience and background.
All I can say is that with maturity and hindsight, my lousy decisions as a parent have become clearer and more apparent to me.
I’ve had to apologize to my kids for everything ranging from bursts of anger to falsely accusing them of wrongdoing when I didn’t have all the facts.
That’s tough to do because nobody wants to admit they’re wrong; however, I know that action will help my kids now and the future.
There were a handful of times growing up where my parents meted out an unfair punishment—-usually a harsh spanking—-for something I didn’t do. As an adult, I brought up one such instance to my parents and asked them about it, because it still bothered me.
Ironically, neither of them could recall the specific injustice but both apologized to me for getting it wrong. As silly as that sounds, it helped.
In that regard, my wife and I strive to be quick to apologize to our kids so injustice doesn’t ferment into resentment.
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3. Love Your Kids Like They’re Your Grandchildren
Parenting is a paradox. As a parent, it’s easy for me to focus on the things that my kids do, rather than focusing on who they are. I need to flip that around and love them for who they are—-not for what they do.
Some days I get it right and other days—-not so much.
Both my folks were very strict and authoritative while we were growing up, yet by the time we had kids of our own an amazing transformation had occurred in our parents.
My parents seemed to be much more loving and easygoing toward their respective grand kids than they were to any of their own children—-incredibly, this is a nearly universal phenomenon. Just ask your friends with kids how their parents treat and love the grand babies.
That softening of the heart comes with age, experience and maturity, but the key insight to me after the death of my parents was that I didn’t have to wait to be a grandparent myself to manifest that type of love to my kids.
I know we have to raise our own kids correctly, teach them right from wrong and provide consistent discipline to help them grow into adults, but none of that should trump loving them first.
Trying to love my kids the way their grandparents did has been a useful emotional framework for me.
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4. Don’t Be a Mystery for Your Kids to Solve
After my parents died, there were things about them that I didn’t know—-important things. For instance, during the execution of my father’s will it was discovered that he had a daughter born out of wedlock.
All I know is that she was living somewhere in Colorado, and she told the lawyer who was settling the estate that she didn’t want anything to do with any of us.
Obviously that raises a lot of questions. When did this happen? Why did our parents keep it from us? What made them decide to stay together after this came to light? Why does a half-sister I never met seem to hate me?
I can guess, but I’ll never know for certain.
I don’t want to be a man of mystery for my children.
I don’t want my kids to wonder who I am and what I’m about—-especially once they’re old enough to understand life and ask questions.
That’s one of the reasons I write. I want my children to be able to look back years from now—-if they’re so inclined—-and read the words I’ve written so they’ll know me more completely.
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Life is loss—-few things are more true than that.
But life is not only about loss—-the loss doesn’t have to define you negatively and it might even help define your legacy.
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Originally appeared at The Good Men Project
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Photo: Chris Price/Flickr
