I’ve shared some personal things in this blog. Losing my dream job. Losing our house. But this is probably the most personal post I’ll ever write.
Today is the eleventh anniversary of my dad’s death. On December 14th, 2009, my dad was killed on the job. He was involved in a freak single-vehicle accident while working. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t the job that killed him, but it gives me pause.
You see, my dad was a delivery driver, just like I am now.
I don’t worry about my job killing me, but for a long time I’ve worried about turning into my dad. My becoming a driver for UPS is just one more way that my life now resembles his.
For most of my life I’ve tried to be different from my dad. I wanted to prove to myself and the world that I was my own man. I paid attention to all the ways we were in fact different.
But the older I get, the more I notice the similarities. Perhaps I’m becoming more like him as I age, or perhaps I’m just more willing to acknowledge what’s been there all along.
My dad and I had a warm relationship, but we were never that close. Some of that distance was the result of my moving away from him, both literally and figuratively.
In the years leading up to his death, I tried to close some of that distance. I found that my experiences as a father compelled me to learn more about him, to try to understand him better.
We had lots of conversations. I asked him about his life before I came along. He was 31 when he married, 35 when I was born. He’d lived almost half his life without my being in the picture.
Curiously, those conversations have continued from beyond the grave. As my life unfolds, as I follow some of the same contours and trajectories as he did, I understand him more. He makes more sense to me now.
With that understanding has come empathy, compassion and affection. I’m not sure why I spent so much time and energy running away from him. I don’t know why I was always ashamed to be like him.
I have a newfound pride to be his son. He was a member of the Silent Generation, a Navy veteran, a tireless entrepreneur, a husband and father. He loved to whistle and sing. He loved being in the company of others. He loved bringing people together.
He was a good man. I would be lucky if I were more like him. I am more like him, with each passing day. And for that, I’m grateful.
4 replies on “This is the most personal post I’ll ever write”
Martin, What a raw and relatable reflection on parent / child relationships this is. Thank you for sharing. Your dad would be so proud of the man you’ve become. He’d be proud to be your dad, as I’m sure he always was. Thank you for sharing.
You do remind me of him, Uncle. 🙂 Which is a VERY good thing in my book. ❤ I can’t even begin to describe how much I miss him.
Thank you so much for sharing. 🙏🙏🙏 Love you.
So this one hit home for me so hard. The most powerful thing about this post for me is not just its universality, captured by the Climactic scene of Empire Strikes Back that compelled my attention, but rather that I have discovered that I am identifying with my dad far more following his demise related to Alzheimer’s 5 years ago than I ever did in life. Is that just due to my own aging? Perhaps. But I like to think that the progression of love I am experiencing is also present for him, that he and I are growing closer as our lives and connection do not end with death, but rather are building toward a greater Heavenly reunion.
Thank you for this post, Martin. I appreciate your vulnerability and I can relate with so many of your experiences as I reflect on my flawed relationship with my own father. Wasn’t it John Eldridge who spoke of the nearly universal wounding that young men experience in the context of their relationship with their father? Perhaps this is somehow by design.
I’ve obviously ever met your dad, but if you are anything like him, he must have been an amazing guy!
Thanks again for this post. Thought-provoking!