Just Another Day — EGGSHELLS

Father’s Day is just round the corner. I was asked to write this piece for The Compassionate Friends newsletter, but felt that it could be repeated here for a wider audience. I have adapted it from the original to be more relevant to a ‘muggle’ audience.

“This year Father’s Day is likely to be quite surreal for the entire population. When I started this piece for the TCF in mid-April, we were locked down because of Covid-19 and looking at the calendar, I expected the travel restrictions to still be in force by Father’s Day on 21st June; the ‘bubble’ was a distant dream. Even if restrictions had been lifted however, it was likely that the loss of life across the country would be so significant that it would dampen down the usual Father’s Day celebrations.

For me, Father’s Day will pass just like any other day. We never really marked it before Evie died; a card and that was it. The kitchen is my territory anyway, so I’ll be cooking dinner as usual. This year I have decided that no matter what the weather it will be roast beef, Yorshire Pudding and roast potatoes; one of Evie’s favourites, along with a staggeringly good bottle of wine. I’m not actually sure that Patsy knows where the kitchen is. Sunday will be my third Father’s Day without Evie, and just like the previous two, I expect to feel utterly rubbish once again, a heightened feeling of loss on a day when I should be with her. I’ve said in previous writings that I don’t feel like a father any more, just a bloke. So, Father’s Day is a real contradiction, full of complex emotions.

I have sat and thought on many occasions how other bereaved fathers with surviving children may feel. They must be truly conflicted. I can’t offer advice or comment simply because it feels a world away from my own experience.

Father’s Day brings the feelings of loss into sharp focus for a bereaved father but in reality, it is little different from any other day of the year. The commercial aspects of the day shine a spotlight on it and serve only to ram the point home. Evie’s gone, never to return. How do we survive it? Part of me wants to recognize that I am still a father, but another part just wants to push through and get the day over with. If I could go to sleep today and wake up on Monday that would suit me fine.

I do believe that whether we like it or not, the vast majority of people focus on the emotional impact of a child’s death on the mother because for generations that has been what we did. Men’s mental health has always taken a back seat. Call it what you like, stoicism, stiff upper lip or just a societal expectation. I also believe though that as fathers we are also guilty of perpetuating that view. Take a look at the TCF Facebook pages and compare the number of men and women on there. Look at the paucity of posts from fathers compared to mothers. Why is that? Even the Bereaved Father’s page is ‘quiet’. I’m not saying that it is right or wrong, just illuminating it – saying what most blokes are probably thinking but haven’t said out loud. I think what that does is mask what fathers are really thinking and feeling, so we have no idea of the true position. Are we uncomfortable being open and honest? Do we see it as a sign of weakness? I don’t, but I imagine many do.

On an average day I will be wearing full body armour, keeping me safe from the outside world. It comes off for very few people because there is only a small handful of people that I can be open with, the rest will buckle under the pain that flows when I talk freely. Father’s Day will be no different, with the exception that I’ll keep out of everyone’s way. I’m going to hide.

Thankfully, when I wrote this in mid-April, few children had died from covid-19 and now in mid-June that is still the case. That means that the number of new parents joining our exclusive club is not growing rapidly. But thousands of families up and down the country are reflecting on the loss of a brother, husband or father and grandfather. Father’s Day for many will be a different beast. For us bereaved fathers, or at least for me, it is just another day to get through without breaking. I’m not fighting for change, or trying to raise awareness of a father’s view. I don’t want to change the world. But I do want people to stop and think. When you sit down to give your cards and gifts, spare a thought for the thousands of families across the country for whom Father’s Day will not be a celebration, but a feeling of loss.

If I can find an open church on Father’s Day, I will go along and light a candle for Evie. I’ll go and visit her grave. Talk to her for a bit then go home for a G&T. And I’ll raise a toast to all bereaved fathers. “