The absence of a proper relationship with my Dad was more painful than his death

Interview with Chloe*

Transcribed & edited by Amy Dorrington

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This story discusses death. If you're in crisis, call Lifeline on 13 11 14 or find more contact information on our Resources page.

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Can you recall your first memory of death?

My first memory of losing someone was when I was eight and my 21 year old cousin died. I wasn’t close with him because I was living interstate and he was much older than me. I remember Mum was crying in the lounge room on the phone to my Aunty. She kept making phone calls so I went outside and sat on the driveway.

Mum came outside and sat next to me and showed me a photo of him and said, ‘he’s passed away’. I remember asking, ‘what do you mean?’ because I didn’t understand. She didn’t want to say he had died, so she said, ‘he’s not here anymore’. Eventually, she had to tell me he was dead.

Mum flew to Victoria for the funeral but left us kids at home in Queensland, which, in hindsight, seems like a weird choice because it meant we were quite separated from it. Death is an inevitable part of life but we don’t talk about it. I’ve noticed that now children seem to be included in the whole process more often, and death is slowly becoming less taboo.

What was your relationship with your Dad like?

Even though he was my Dad, I didn’t grow up with him. He and my Mum separated when I was about one year old and Mum got a new partner, who helped raise me until I was about 13, but I never called him Dad because I knew I had a biological Dad.

My Dad went on to have two other kids with his new wife at the time, but she didn’t want me to see him or my brother and sister. Dad and I reached out to each other a couple of times as I got older, but nothing really came of it.

I experienced more pain throughout my entire life from not having a proper relationship with my Dad, than the pain I felt when he died.

How did you experience the period surrounding your Dad’s death?

When I was 18, I got a phone call in the middle of the night. Dad was in hospital because he’d had three strokes and a heart attack. His wife made it really hard for me to have any contact with him so the nurses had to sneak me into his room, by myself, in the middle of the night. It was the first time I’d seen him in who knows how long.

I don’t remember walking in or walking out, but I remember every second of being in there. The moment I walked into that room, we both started crying. We didn’t say anything because there wasn’t much to be said at that point. I didn’t know if he was going to die then and there and if it would be the last time I was ever going to see him. After you have three strokes and a heart attack, it’s pretty clear you’re not well - he loved drinking and smoking and that’s probably what ended up getting him there.

Amazingly, he recovered enough to leave the hospital despite having lost complete control over half of his face and having lost some of his vocabulary. He began calling me regularly and that was the beginning of our relationship. He wasn’t able to drive anymore, so I’d pick him up and up we’d go for lunch and gradually, our relationship strengthened. I softened and decided all was forgiven.

Years passed and we continued to spend time together until one day when I was 26, Dad got pneumonia and fell into a coma. That’s how he ended up dying. I got a call in the middle of the night and I was completely distraught. Apparently, it was very painless and lots of people got the opportunity to visit him and say goodbye. But I just couldn’t do it.

Are you still happy with that decision in hindsight?

Yeah, I am. He’d already gone into a coma and I knew he was surrounded by people, so I just felt grateful for those eight years of memories with him.

What were the next few weeks like for you after your Dad died?

I think I was in shock. I woke up the next day and thought to myself, I’ve gotta go to work! My housemates knew Dad had passed away, but I was just asking them things like, ‘should I wear this scarf or this scarf?’ - stuff I never even ask anyone - and they were just like, ‘Chloe, are you okay?’.

My initial reaction was to just keep going. I remember walking to work, then around lunchtime, I fell apart. My workmates asked what was wrong and as soon as I told them, they were shocked. ‘Why are you here?’ they asked. I ended up going home.

In the lead up to the funeral, I went to my grandparents’ house because even though I wasn’t in touch with Dad for all those years, I had maintained contact with his Mum and sisters - my Grandma and Aunties. We got to pick the clothes he was going to wear in the coffin and I helped pick the flowers which felt special. I cried a lot after that initial period of shock.

Did you ever speak to a counsellor or psychologist?

No. At that point, I was journaling every day and I was very spiritual and philosophical - all of these survival tactics I’d developed over my life. It’s weird to admit, but I experienced more hurt from feeling like I never belonged because I didn’t have a Dad most of my life, rather than the hurt when I actually lost him. I lost something I felt like I never really had.

If I’m honest, I had more pain throughout my whole life wanting to know him and wondering why he wasn’t there. So by the time Dad died, I’d already had some way darker years and I was just starting to come out of that. I’d built up resilience and worked through a lot of stuff so I think that prepared me. If he’d died earlier before I’d had the chance to forgive him and make sense of things, it would have been much harder.

Has the death of your Dad made you feel more spiritual or connected to him in any way?

Because I was already in a really weird place prior to his death, I already had these coping methods in place, like meditating and journaling. I played my favourite Roy Orbison song, You Got It all the time because I had loved that song my whole life, then one day my Aunty told me it was one of Dad’s favourite songs. It made me feel close to him. Now every time I hear that song, I get a rock in my throat.

How has your Dad’s death impacted your approach to life?

I’ve learnt from it, but I don’t think it’s stopped me from doing anything. I would have loved to have him around forever. I never had anyone to call ‘Dad’. Things might have been so different for me if I had been accepted by his new partner. His illness gave him a new perspective and that’s why we were able to reconnect, so even though it was something really shitty that brought us together, I’m grateful for the time I had with him.

The biggest lesson I’ve taken away from it all is the type of relationship that I want to have with my future kids. Having such a difficult time growing up has helped me decide what kind of parent I want to be.

What would you say to your past self or another person in the midst of grieving the death of a loved one?

Whether you know the death is coming or not, nobody can prepare you for losing someone close to you. Because one day they’re there and one day they’re not. When someone says, ‘you will feel better’, intellectually you know that’s true, but at the time it’s hard to believe.

There’s power in that knowing that you will be okay again and have good times again. Just because you’re having a good time, doesn’t mean you’re not still mourning them. You won’t forget them. If I died, all I would want is for my partner to meet someone and live a full life and be as happy as he could.

What would you say to someone who is trying to comfort a grieving person?

Sometimes saying less is better. If you’re really close, just being there is great. As humans, if we’re trying to comfort someone, we tend to try and fix things, but that doesn’t help. Sometimes there are no words and that’s okay. There is huge power in sitting together in silence because it gives space to the person who is grieving. So when they talk, they’re talking of their own accord, not because they’ve been asked. Cook them a meal and drop it off at their house. Give hugs. Lots of hugs.

Did you experience any difficulty in your relationships after your Dad died?

For a long time, I couldn’t let love in. Even when he died, I felt more comfortable when people didn’t comfort me. I tried to avoid people having big emotional responses to me because I didn’t feel like I was worthy of their support or worry.

I just wanted to act like everything was fine. I wanted people to worry about others, not me. I wanted people to ask how I was, but I never wanted to go into detail. It was just something that happened and I carried on with life. Back then, I never would have spoken as openly as I am now.

Did you feel like your grief was a burden on others?

Yeah, I would just avoid it all. Not many people even knew about my relationship with my Dad because I didn’t like talking about it because I felt like I never fit anywhere. Because of that, not many people actually knew he had died. It felt weird. I see how my partner and his parents give each other hugs and kisses before bed and I think it would have been so nice to grow up with that.

How are you feeling now?

I’m at the best place I’ve ever been in my life. If you’d asked me five years ago, it would have been a different story. Dad’s death helped me find all the things I was searching for, all the places I didn’t belong, all the conversations I didn’t have. The closure and closeness to the people around me afterwards gave me so much - more than I ever had with Dad. His death brought my older sister and I closer together and we talk all the time now. I learnt that I am deserving of love and I opened myself up to receiving love. ✿

*Chloe’s surname has been withheld for privacy.

Interview has been edited for clarity.

Image Description: a film photograph of Chloe’s father, a young man with dark hair wearing a black t-shirt and denim shorts. He is sitting in a chair in a garden, surrounded by green foliage. In Chloe’s father’s right hand is a dummy (pacifier). In his left arm sits a small baby Chloe, barefoot and dressed in white.