Simply Part 2 - It All Starts With a Dead Dad
My father’s death didn’t just upend my family—it cemented my vow to never need anyone. Independence became my mask, self-sufficiency my shield, and joy my kryptonite.
My dad did all the driving, with my mom always in the passenger seat. While my mom is a self-professed - and proven - terrible driver, my dad wasn’t much better. I don’t have many firsthand memories of his bad driving, probably because kids didn’t have to wear seat belts in the ’80s, and my head likely got knocked around a lot in the backseat of his Oldsmobile Cutlass .
Legend has it that my dad would back out into oncoming traffic without looking, regularly spill coffee on his lap while barreling down the highway, and never brake for animals or yellow lights.
He also controlled the money, the family schedule, and, in every archaic sense, was the unquestioned head of our household.
My father was a pastor. My mom was a pastor’s wife. My brother and I were pastor’s kids. Our entire family identity revolved around his persona. And then, one day, he died.
He was gone, and all that remained were his checklists, a wife, a house, two kids, and a dog. We had never been just us before—only his. My mom decided that if she couldn’t be his, she would be nothing. She became someone who let go of joy in order to shield herself from pain, approaching every day with a visceral resentment.
She had my dad’s gravestone made as a couple’s gravestone, with her name engraved next to his. Her date of birth was there, too, just waiting for the final date. Her life became a slow, deliberate wait for that final date.
My brother and I went from pastor’s kids to orphans overnight—without permission to grieve. We were told that sadness was akin to doubting God’s plan. Loneliness wasn’t just shameful; it was sinful.
At an early age, I made a decision—though I didn’t have the exact words to express such a complex feeling at the time: Eff that ess. No way was I ever going to need someone so badly that I couldn’t live without them.
Without realizing it, I let go of joy as a way to shield myself from pain. Independence became my mask, self-sufficiency my superpower, and joy my kryptonite.
A Tale of Simplifying Life
This collection of questionable decisions chronicles my stumbling journey to self-discovery. Along the way, I encounter wayward animals, accidental treasures (and a few regrettable finds), and outdated beliefs so deeply rooted they force me to question everything - including my own sense of direction.
Up Next: Rooted A.F.