olderdadyoungerchild

Not too sure where I’m going with this, but I’m compelled to share a story that lacks a tidy ending. When I began writing this blog 10 years ago, I always followed my own rules: write about what you know, and have an ending in mind when you begin. The topic of being an older Dad welcoming a newborn is not unique these days. But still, that’s what inspired me to write — not just about my own experiences, but also those of fellow Older Dads.

There was this one friend in particular. Now, he and his wife had their Son, while our Daughter was born near the same time. We had worked together for many years and stayed in touch as each of us found and married a younger woman. I think there even was a couple of months their pregnancies overlapped. We did the kiddie birthday circuit for a few years. But that is difficult maintain as families grow, demands change, and people move away.

Last week, I got a note email from his Wife. Her Husband was struggling, done in by strokes and pulmonary isssues. He was doing poorly, but I was missing the message — first his sister wrote to me about his failing health, then his wife did. I wrote back that Daughter and I were planning a pre-Christmas road trip and we’d swing by while we were in town. The stupidity of my response is overwhelming. “Aren’t you going to see him?” Spouse asked. I felt shame. My life is arranged now so that I am able to respond to family/friend emergencies. That was part of the reason I stepped away from full-time teaching. I wrote back to his Wife get the details of making my way from the airport to his hospice room, booked the flight, a car.

When Daughter and I visit, we do have family stuff up North. Daughter tries to catch up with a couple of old schoolmates. We usually stay with my Sister and if it’s going to be more than a couple of days, I’ll rent a car. Visiting my friend was the focus of this journey, and Daughter stayed home. My friend is a couple of years older than me, but we’ve traveled a common path. We worked together in the same high-pressure profession. We played together on a softball team. We found love with a younger woman who was not going to concede Motherhood because of the number of candles on hubby’s cake.

I didn’t hear the particulars from him, but I suspect there were commonalities. The “Have you ever thought about having children?” question came up on our first date. That may have been the first time I really thought about it, and was able to explain my position. I visualized into the future, then had reservations of my own (First date? Really?) — one child, who would get all of our attention. We’d always be able to afford a little more for the baby’s comfort.

My friend and I are Fathers of wonderful, talented and kind 16-year-olds. We have done all that we can to nurture our children to be intelligent, empathetic, successful, and not-too-messed-up. His Son is remarkable legacy for Dad. Today, I noticed something I never did before — he and his Dad have the same nose! Dad’s nose is a bit dinged up, but resemblance is remarkable.

The past two years have been brutal for him — laid low by strokes, rough time with Covid. At one point, he was finally able to come home — but just for a while. He and his Wife have done everything possible to keep him in the Dad Loop. His Son was at the hospital while I visited — poised, articulate, well-spoken. Good job, Dad.

When I first walked into his hospice room, I was grateful I didn’t postpone the trip. I spent many hours with him over the next four days. I talked about playing softball (he was pitcher while I caught.) His (late) cat, Bambino. Working together at the newspaper. All the people we knew. Co-workers who’d passed away. He couldn’t talk, but I knew from looking in his eyes that he heard me. The final night was, well, I knew I was saying goodbye forever. The next morning, I was packing to leave for home. His wife texted me that he had passed away an hour ago.