Jennette McCurdy’s new book is trending, and it has a title that only a child of an addict could understand. I’m Glad My Mom Died is impossible to hunt down, and honestly, no offense to her, but I’m not looking for it anyway. I’m not a big reader, it’s nothing personal. I have, however, seen a recent interview where the interviewer asked her if she felt like the title was a little harsh.
I’ve been asked a question about having a dead dad probably at least once a month for the past two years. Which, really I guess is only like 24 times, but it felt a lot more significant in my brain.
Most recently, the question was, “does it still affect you?” The answer is sometimes. But not in a way most people would feel about the loss of a parent. Sometimes it’s more of an inconvenience than it is a loss. It’s easier to have sympathy for him now that he’s not obstructing the course of my daily life anymore. I know that’s harsh, but you just have to be in the shoes I’m in to get it.
THE BACKSTORY
My dad was an alcoholic. Not in the “I have too many beers on a Saturday,” or the “I’m 23 and can’t see past next Thursday” kind of way. My dad was an alcoholic in the way that makes you wish that they would just die because you don’t know what else to do. I know it sounds terrible when I say it out loud. I remember sitting in the backyard of a friend’s house about a week before my dad went into the hospital for the last time. “It sounds morbid, but I really wish he would just die sometimes, this is so exhausting.”
I had recently seen him, he had a dog he couldn’t take care of, bills he couldn’t pay, and not a single curtain in his house was open. I left his house that day and told my mom I was pretty sure he would die soon. My dad died of COVID in July of 2020. In January of that same year, I told my therapist that she had to prepare me for my dad to die. Sometimes you just know. The universe has a funny way of preparing you for things. By the time I had made the confession that I was ready for him to die, he was in the hospital. I told my therapist that I felt really guilty for speaking that into existence.
What she told me next sort of changed my outlook. “People commit suicide because it’s an end to suffering. Death is a really natural response to feeling like there’s no other tangible end.” While it didn’t absolve me of my guilt, it did put the 21 years of my life that I had lived into perspective. Here’s what I knew:
I had no hope that my dad was getting better this time.
I knew my dad was over life.
I had a lot of trauma I was never going to get an apology for.
I couldn’t live my life peacefully while a grown man, who couldn’t act grown, tried to loop everyone into the fact he was ruining his for the 400th time.
When you’re the child of an addict, the expectations and patience you have for that parent dwindles. It’s not like you don’t love them or sympathize with them, you just lose the attachment because you can’t have it. At some point, it feels like there’s nothing to attach to.
I KINDA CARE
There are things that I have grieved far more than I did my dad’s death. It obviously impacted me and resulted in some questionable behaviors for a minute there. But time heals most things. There are still times when it hits you in weird ways. Father’s Day rings differently when you don’t have a dad versus when you have one who’s 50% abandoned fatherhood, you can’t ignore the day anymore. I remember laying in bed about a year ago and seeing a TikTok that was about the final sounds a COVID patient hears. That shook me, too. I feel bad for the people who did need him. I feel bad for the part of him who probably wanted to get better. I feel bad for the part of him that was a good dad.
Was my dad a good dad? Yes-ish. It depends on when you’re asking and what situation you’re asking about specifically. My dad just wasn’t a lot of the typical things most people think a dad should be, but some of those things he was. The things he wasn’t are all things I truly believe he wanted to be. But either way, he was my dad, and I knew what to expect out of him. So since I have that, I don’t have resentment towards him.
I care in the sense that you always have the “what ifs” associated with situations like death. Like, what if he turned his life around after he got out of the hospital? That’s a thought that you can get stuck in if you hold onto it. I can only take the reality of what the situation actually was into account. Realistically, I know it was a 50/50 shot. I go back to “I feel bad” all the time, but I realized I don’t feel bad for myself.
IT WAS FOR THE BETTER
I think that when someone loses a parent, it’s easy for the general reaction to be, “how do you get through that.” My first comment on that topic is that you just do. The world has never stopped spinning. I remember the day it happened and seeing people out driving. It was weird to watch the world work the exact same way it did, even if I was going through it.
But, I think most people (rough estimate) have a good relationship with both of their parents. I don’t think people realize what it’s like to not feel like you need to tell a parent anything, or to kind of have to force a conversation with them. It’s not like everyone goes two weeks without talking to their parent and then realizes they have to call them but has nothing to say. Not everyone experiences the pitfalls of alcoholism in the same way I have. And that’s honestly probably for the better. But, with all of those things combined, the death felt like a weight lifted off of my shoulders.
I don’t resent my dad like I did when he was alive. I made peace with him because I had to. What was I going to do? Wait for him to send me a sign? With the way that he was, if he was alive, I don’t think I could’ve made as much of myself as I have at this young of an age. I think it saved me a whirlwind of trauma. And honestly, I think he was ready.
All of this to say, yes, I care that my dad died. An absence is an absence, regardless of the person that has gone and why they’ve left. However, caring and regretting are two different things. I care that my dad died, but I’m also not wondering why it happened or saying that it shouldn’t have. An end is an end.
WHAT WOULD I SAY TO A FRIEND EXPERIENCING THE SAME THING?
I’ve had to take myself out of this situation more than a few times. At its root, saying you’re glad that your parent died sounds like a ticket directly into hell or at the very least a sure shot at getting uninvited from family parties. The only way I can rationalize my feelings is if I take myself out of them.
I have a lot of friends with alcoholic parents, some more stable and present than others. I’ve been on the opposite side of this a dozen times. I don’t think you can force someone to miss a person or grieve them when they just don’t feel that way, even if it’s their parent. I don’t think that dying rights you of your wrongdoings. I think if you want good connections with the people in your life, you should start now. Relationships aren’t something you form after someone dies. A lot of times, closure gets mistaken for a relationship that was there all along. When someone dies, so do your hopes that they’ll turn it around and you’ll get your apology one day. I never really felt like that with my dad, but there’s an obvious weight that’s lifted when those expectations, hopes, and worries are gone.
You can miss someone and still be comfortable with the way it ended. I learned that with my dad’s death, and I’ve carried it with me. I realized I wouldn’t think twice if someone told me it was their grandma’s time and it was okay that she passed away, and I use that mentality when I’m talking about my dad. In death, a lot of times people make theoreticals out of the truth. I think that you have to take it for what it is, and I think that when you do, you get your closure.
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