The last dad

My son has had a rough time lately. You see, he has had three dads: myself, his genetic father; Mike, his stepfather of 20 some years, and John, his father-in-law, whom he has known for more than 30 years. In the last few months, Mike died, and just a few days ago, John died. My son is a very emotional man, and so he has been in some grief for quite a time now.

He’s had some good things happen, too. His first grandchild was born. She lives near him and he is a very enthusiastic grandfather. By now, you’re likely wondering what any of this has to do with my own recovery from a stroke! Well, it come down to this: I am the last dad.

Of the three, I have survived longest. But now, that leaves me alone in the role. Any “dad” expectations that my son has are now all on me. And I know that over the years his expectations of “dad” have been disappointed and lowered when it comes to me.

In this situation, aware of my limitations, and my lowered energy and personal vulnerability, I feel like this might be a tough job…to be the last dad. I’ve mentioned my sense of vulnerability before, so that’s not new for you. But today, I also feel some fear. Saturday, my spouse if going far away to a workshop she has been planning for almost a year. I want her to go; I have enthusiastically urged her to go. But I’m afraid, too. Suddenly, I am aware of my dependence on her in this recovery time, of my need for her support, advocacy and help. Al week I’ve been filled with “what if’s?” What if I have to get to the hospital ER in the night? What if I have to make a decision without her to consult?

Funny thing is, I’ve never felt exactly like this before. I don’t mind being on my own; I miss her when she’s away, but I can manage alone quite well. But I’m afraid I won’t be able to in this situation. I’m vulnerable, low energy, and…I’m the last dad!

Oh, we’ve covered all the bases. I have people who will help me get groceries home, people who will take me to the ER if need be, people who will take me to Edmonton pick up my repaired computer. But still, I am afraid, a little bit. It has something to do with being the last dad.

My son needs a dad; has always needed a dad. And when I wasn’t there, for one reason or another, he had other dads, and they were each terrific in their own way. But now, there us only me, the last…and not necessarily the best…dad. I want to be there for him in whatever way I can, even in my diminished and broken state. But, on top of being frightened, it feels like a lot.

Now, I am sure this sounds silly to some of you, self-centered and petty. But that’s where I am these days. I need, I want, I hope…and I want to be a good dad, even if I’m the only dad. I wonder if other broken dads feel like this, and not just dads with an injured brain?