Addressing The Assumptions Around Death & Grieving Relatives Today

Can one miss what they never had? Why do we assume that when a blood relative dies, the survivors are going to grieve them? And how do we respond to those who have not experienced having to deal with a narcissistic character? I ask these pertinent questions regarding my father's passing last week and some reactions to it with others. It was eye-opening, to say the least, the ways that people deal with death and the survivors. And in my case (and my immediate family), it really was about survival. My father was a textbook narcissist and sociopath. He existed to create havoc and drama through seduction and not much else. He left a slough of toxic waste for the souls he projected his unhealed wounds and sick and twisted head games he inflicted upon his victims. Likewise, he was a predator, a sex addict, a drug abuser, and a stalker. He patrolled his prey's territory with vigilance like a crazed security guard. The amount of energy, time, and resources to keep up his facades (and there were many) deserves a Lifetime Achievement Academy Award. It must've been exhausting to play so many freakin' roles. 

No one in my immediate family (my mom, his first ex-wife, my youngest sister, and little brother) grieved his passing. Instead we were relieved because it meant that we would be unburdened by his toxic existence and the constant reports on his activities, which were unnerving, to say the least. Even though my mom and sister had maintained some contact with him, my brother and I refused years ago (they have far more compassion and patience than me). You know when someone has crossed the line when you can't mourn their death. I called my mom to check on her regarding the news of his passing, and her response left me shook. First off, she sounded like her cheerful self when she picked up the phone, and I was further floored after I asked how she was holding up. She replied that she thought she was going to cry after hearing the news at 4:30 AM, but instead she went back to sleep. That floored me! Then we ended up talking about what an asshole he was and how we won't have to hear his name mentioned about his latest acts anymore. He left a mess, and we had no sympathy to give. I also cut ties with him (after many failed attempts) because he wanted to play mind games and be hero-worshipped. No, thank you. I've tried loving past abusers, and it's absolutely futile.

Hearing a dear friend unconsciously attempting to convince me that I was going to go through the grieving process was a bit jarring. Without having any knowledge of his atrocities, they insisted that I was somehow in denial and needed to face this loss. However, their tune changed when I clarified his truth and that their assumptions around death and grief were coming from a programmed ideology. How can I shed a tear for another human who was never fully present? He would make a physical appearance, but it was always under false pretenses. You never knew who you were going to get. How can this be comforting and provide security? The father figure that I knew was simply not available; therefore, how can I miss what I never had? He had plenty of opportunities to change like the rest of us, but he refused. Who am I to judge him for exercising his free will? He made choices that felt familiar and enabled him to continue in the survival mode he had in his formative years. Everyone else was just a pawn for his games and nothing more. After a while, I couldn't even feel sorry for him, just pity for turning into his own worst enemy. As I said earlier, he exercised his free will, and his choices taught me how not to be. I ask people about their relationship status with the deceased for this reason: sometimes it's been a living hellscape for them that they're now relieved from.

Death doesn't mean the ending; it's the beginning. I now feel freed up knowing that this man, my biological father (my mom referred to him as the sperm donor), will no longer be the toxic topic that has kept on giving. He taught me how not to be in relationships, to be grateful to never have married or had children (even though I'm gay), and that free will comes with a price, especially when one refuses to heal their past and reinvent themselves. I'm a proud breaker of cycles on both sides of my biological family. I respect and honor women, have a strong spiritual relationship with my higher power, exercise setting healthy boundaries and limits, and most importantly, I love who I am and all that comes with that. Not only that, but I had to fight to get to my current position, and it was well worth it. Witnessing and hearing the stories about my ancestral roots provided more than enough resolve for me to not put myself in compromising positions like they had. I'd rather be the odd one out in the light of my truth than the miserable one inside the murky pit following in the footsteps of generational cyclical karma. When I leave this earthly plane, it will be knowing that I made a healthy difference and not a shameful repeat.

In closing, I want to touch on the definition of family and how it has been defined throughout time. 

Not all families consist of a dad, mom, and children. This flawed 'ideal' has been permeated and programmed into the fabric of modern society. Life is filled with changes and shifts that humans must learn to adapt to. It's obscene to expect family to be defined by an ideal type when there simply is none. You get what you end up with. Period. Besides, with the numerous cultures and their layered beliefs, it's foolish to even attempt to convince humanity that this is the right way. Family is what you create, not the bloodline you're born into. For example, I consider my non-blood family bonds to be true for me. There are countless stories of this in the history of humanity. Blood is thicker than water, but not when it comes to a loving bond. Family is very much like life; we create it as we go. This is why I don't fault my father, for he came to do what he did—his best with what he had. Be therefore warned, I'm in no way or means excusing his behavior; rather, I'm emphasizing that he taught me not to mimic his choices. We need to shift our attitudes around death and how we approach the pain of loss and, in some cases, the relief it can provide, as it is in my case. There was no father figure for me to grieve because I never had one from the beginning and never pined for one growing up. My mom's loving presence,  resilient fortitude, and guidance were more than enough without a man.

@Terry Perkins