DEAD DADS CANCER CLUB
I was listening to a podcast and the storyteller is a coherent 90 year old. His story full of details that make me instantly happy. I tried to do fast math about this and realized he would be a year younger than my dad. I'm at once filled with a wave of missing him and maybe for the first time aware that I never really considered that he would die in the first place.
I am then filled with a second dichotomy. Side one being that I was so thankful that in the months before he passed he was sharp and aware. That I was able to talk to him and he was mentally present. Side two of that is knowing he was aware he was likely going to die and being sad that he was mentally present for much of that. That which is positive can also be negative.
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Time flattens things. The raw edges of loss soften for some. Maybe for others it never does. It likely depends on who we've lost. I can barely type and consider the loss of a child, so I know there's different degrees. What I do know is that grief and loss are nondiscriminatory and that as soon as you think your "beyond it", it's back, a Hannibal Lecter voice popping it's head up and saying. "Hello, Clarice." , halting your day through a forced reflection of some sort. Sometimes it's a passing thought. Sometimes it's the old skin on on the face trick, forcing a disguised entry into the depths of the pain that still lives in all of us when we consider the death of a loved one.
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I have two friends who I speak with frequently about the death of their fathers. Really we don't speak as much as listen. It's a text thread of three 40-50 year olds who lost their dads over the last 4-5 years. It's a space where if they or I want, you can just share a memory or an anecdote or a "having a bad day" message and move along. An emotion dump to use as needed where no one really responds unless you ask for it. I call it the Dead Dads Cancer Club which adds an air of levity to it. It can be serious if it needs to, but to me, it's something I think my dad would chuckle at. Most dads die with an air of "don't waste any time lamenting me dying. Everyone dies. Move along." They also lamented their own dad's deaths in their own way. More dichotomy.
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This little text thread has lead me to another "project" of sorts. One thing I prove time and time again is a willingness to create something that no one thinks is needed. My brain tends to not let go of things that I decide are important. Sometimes I jump in and open a business to support it. Sometimes I decide to quit a job and go headlong. Sometimes.
This will land somewhere in between all of that. The idea I've landed on is that a lot of people have lost a dad or mom. Many of those loses will be due to cancer. Most everyone will lose a parent and until you do, you won't know how you're going to process that. Sometimes you just want to tell the world to remember them. Sometimes maybe you want to share a story. Sometimes you may want to scream "It's not fair." Whatever you want to share, the Dead Dads Cancer Club will be there as an outlet.
Over the next few weeks, I'll start a simple blog of sorts. You need only to share a snippet or story and a picture with me via DM and or email (deaddadscancerclub@gmail.com) and I'll post it. That's it. Simple. I’ve already created @deaddadscancerclub on Instagram if this is your bag, follow it.
Once the blog is up it will have a main page with all of the stories, a "submit your story" page, and a page to buy a t-shirt. Me and the original members are printing one that says CANCER KILLED HIM on the front of it. May not be how you grieve, don't buy it, I don't much care. Right now I'm placing an order for like 4....
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The FAQ I'm sure that's needed is such.
"Can I share about my mom, child, spouse, sibling or friend lost to cancer? YES
"Can I post anonymously?" Of course.
"Don't you think this is insensitive?” It's my grief. I'll do what I want.
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I hope you and yours have a great Sunday and that if this is your type of thing, you'll use it.
I look forward to hearing about your dead dads.
#hugsandhi5s
