How My Father’s Death Influenced My Life

The death of a father always influences a child’s life even if that parent is lost in adulthood. When the loss occurs early in life, it can impact the person in significant ways.

Hide My Tears

My father, zikhrono livrakha (of blessed memory), died when I was seven. I have a vague recollection of coming home and seeing my sisters crying on the couch. My mother called me over to tell me the news. She never cried. She felt she needed to be stoic in front of her three daughters. For years, I believed it was not okay to allow my tears to be seen by others—not even at the funeral where my mother sat dry-eyed.

Now, I cry all the time. I can hardly stop myself from showing my emotions.

Death Makes You Different

When I returned to school, some of my friends asked me if it was true: Did your father die? Red-faced, I told the truth and shuffled off looking at the ground. They looked at me differently. I felt different.

That summer when I went to camp, I didn’t tell my bunk mates. When my mother came to see me on parents weekend, I lied; I told the other children at camp that my father was too busy to visit. It seemed easier—and less embarrassing—than telling the truth. Later, I learned to raise my chin and tell the truth again.

Interestingly, I never stopped feeling different, as if I didn’t quite fit in. And maybe I didn’t, although I tried. In adulthood, I learned to embrace my uniqueness.

Seeking Spirituality

The little bit of religious or spiritual education and exposure I had received to that point in my life ended not long after my father’s passing. One of my sisters rebelled, and my mother wanted to keep the peace. We were all taken out of Hebrew school. I have only two memories of my time in that synagogue while my father was still alive. One was during a religious school Purim festival or service. I was sitting in the sanctuary with the other children, dressed as Queen Esther in my mother’s blue gauzy robe with the gorgeous gold embroidery and beads. The other is of attending a High Holy Day service. I can still see my father sitting up on the bimah.

I retained a strong Jewish identity all through grade school and into college, although I had no Jewish education of which to speak. Even though my father joined the synagogue to enhance his business connections—not for religious reasons, in college I found myself gravitating toward Judaism.I joined Hillel and even went to services with some Jewish friends on Shabbat.

As an adult, I got involvement in the Jewish communities where I lived. I had a desire to find God and to have a spiritual path, which ended up encompassing much more than Judaism. This path even influenced my work to a large degree.

Business Influences

My father worked as a small-business banker. My mother told me how sometimes he invested his money in the businesses his company funded…and lost it all. I suppose that’s where I got my entrepreneurial bent—from him, although I don’t consider myself a good business person. I run my own business and have created numerous products and services. Some call me a serial product creator, but making money and thinking like a businessperson previously has not been my forté. Maybe my subconscious mind equated his financial losses with a lack of business acumen!

He did a good job of providing for all of us, however. We never wanted for anything after his death.

Who Do I Resemble?

As the sole parent, my mother had to learn to handle the money—to invest and to grow the nest egg her husband created. She had to raise three young girls on her own. She never remarried.

My mother didn’t believe in God—not after all her relatives were killed in the Holocaust. She did believe in nature and UFOs and psychic ability. (I remember standing in the driveway with her and watching strange lights in the night sky traversing back and forth over the lake. She also always said when the phone rang that she knew who was calling.) It’s no wonder I gravitated toward the New Age Movement and all that encompassed.

Watching her—a capable, practical, and independent woman—molded me into someone possibly more like my mother than my father. It’s hard to be like a parent you don’t know.

Yet that absent parent still shapes you in many ways. My father was a risk taker. He loved life. And he enjoyed beautiful things. I believe I share those traits with my father, too.

I have lived 48 years of my life with just one parent. That changed who I became, who I am. And that, in it’s own way is a blessing as is my father’s memory.

Have you lost a father, or a parent, at a  young age? How did that shape you?

Photo courtesy of cheriedurbin.