My 75-year-old dad died when I was 22. Having an older parent made me more mature.
Courtesy of the author
- My dad was 53 years old when I was born and was always the older dad.
- Once, a teacher in my school assumed he was my grandfather.
- Dealing with his aging made me more mature than other people my age.
As long as I can remember, I've always had an older dad. I even have photos of my 53-year-old dad holding me as a newborn, his graying hair and wrinkled face clear in front of the camera.
I always felt different having a senior citizen as my dad. Once, when I was attending a middle school open house with my dad, my history teacher noticed my dad and me walking into his classroom and immediately said, "You must be the grandfather!" My dad chuckled while I blushed hard.
It didn't help that most of my peers at school had dads who were in their 20s or 30s. Every time I mentioned that my dad was in his 60s in elementary school, my friends couldn't believe it.
What many people don't know about having an older dad is that not only does he look like your grandfather, but it's tough to deal with chronic health issues.
In the 90s, my dad contracted cardiomegaly — an enlarged heart — which forced him to retire early from his job handling mechanical equipment at a furniture manufacturing facility. With his grey hair came a host of other age-related illnesses, like arthritis and osteoporosis, which limited his mobility.
Despite all of his health issues, I still maintained a close connection with him. Our personalities were so similar that we even had the same interests. I remember how I would sit beside him every night around 6 p.m. as a child to watch NBC's "Nightly News" with Lester Holt. My dad's National Geographic obsession was why I fell in love with animals in the first place.
To other people, he might look like an older dad, but to me, I only saw him as a devoted father.
I didn't see him as a weak, aging parent
Out of nowhere, my dad's health started to get progressively worse. His blood pressure would drop significantly, causing him to pass out to where he would have to be taken to the hospital.
After consultations with his primary care doctor, cardiologist, neurologist, and one medical procedure later, doctors still couldn't find what was wrong with him. This whole process was emotionally devastating — I could see the pressure this was taking on my mom. I would feel mentally drained calling my dad to ask about possible solutions to his medical mystery. Not to mention that there was always a feeling of "what if?" that I couldn't shake away.
One night after my dad went on an emergency trip to the ICU, I'd gotten a call from my mom to meet her at the hospital with my brother. That's when I learned he passed away.
As I saw my dad that day in the hospital, I didn't see a weak, aging parent — I saw someone who was joking and laughing with the nurses, someone who smiled through his pain, someone who told me that he was going to be discharged tomorrow because he had hope despite his challenges.
My life feels more wholesome now
Two years after dealing with my dad's passing, I've learned that life is short, but it's meant to be lived with people that support you and give life meaning.
I've learned to fill up my time with moments that connect me to his memory, like hiking in national parks and engaging in self-reflection through journaling.
Over time, I learned that there were benefits to having an older dad. I know from experience that dealing with chronic illness and aging gave me a stronger sense of maturity than other young adults my age, and I've cultivated a deeper sense of patience and humility that I know a lot of older adults have.
Most importantly, I learned that material things and societal pressures were less important than moments with family and friends that respect and care for you. His grief won't go away completely, but I'm thankful that I found a brighter future through moments that give my life joy.