Dead Dads Club

*****UPDATED: Decemeber 11th, 2011 – Dead Dads Club: Stories of Love, Loss, and Healing by Daughters Who Have Lost Their Dads is now available for purchase on  Amazon.com.

Dead Dads Club by Mary Burt-Godwin


**********************

“There’s a Dead Dads Club and you’re not in it ‘til you’re in it…I’m sorry you had to join the club.”

Dr. Christina Yang – “Grey’s Anatomy”

I lost my father in 2001 to stomach cancer, I was 29 years old, he was 69. Life as I knew it was shattered into a million pieces; I simply fell apart. At the time, I searched for solace in self-help books and therapy sessions, but what really helped me was writing about it in my journals, speaking to other women who could relate and of course, the passage of time.

Two years after he passed away I wrote down an idea for a book that could help lift women up while they were nursing the hole in their heart. My idea was to gather stories, poems, journal entries etc, written by women who had lost their dads and publish them. A book that women of all ages could turn to in their time of grief, for a word of encouragement, of joy, of inspiration. A warm hug of sympathy at a time of deep despair.

Now, five years after having my initial idea, a sequence of serendipitous events has led me to rekindle the idea. I am working on it fastidiously, full steam ahead (during kids’ naps and at night). My first step was to ask my friends and family who have lost their dads to contribute. They in turn have told people and as I move forward, more and more women keep popping up that want to be involved. The initial responses from all the women have been overwhelmingly positive. I just know that this book is meant to be.

My next step is to begin writing about it in this blog. Who knows what kind of interest I will drum up in cyberspace…

I have included below some of my initial thoughts about the book and what I hope to accomplish. I am looking for submissions from any and all women who have lost their dad, any age and any circumstance. The pain is universal but each individual story is unique.

I loved my Dad more than anything. I miss him more than words. And that is the main impetus for creating this book. It’s an ode to my father…to all the lost fathers out there. And it’s a therapeutic glass of wine with women of “the club” who want to commiserate and celebrate their loss, together. I want it to be as beneficial for those that are contributing, as it is for those that read it. I want them all to know it gets better.

It aches, it bleeds, it overwhelms…it gets better.

It’s universal, it’s uniquely your own…it gets better.

You’re not alone, it’s okay to have those feelings…it gets better.

It never goes away but it does get better.

If you are reading this and have lost your father, first and foremost I am sorry for your loss. If you would like to contact me about this project or send me a submission for consideration in the book please email me at mbgodwin@gmail.com. If you are reading this and have not lost your father, go give him a hug and know that this book will someday exist for you if you ever need it.

IT GETS BETTER
Stories of loss, grief, redemption and joy
from Daughters who have lost their Dad
.

MY MISSION – ON A GLOBAL LEVEL
1) To offer solace and comfort to women that have gone through the devastating loss of their father. To help them:
Know what they are feeling is normal
Know they are not alone
Know that it gets better

2) To bring together the women of “the club.”

3) To allow women contributing an avenue to release some grief in a positive way through their writings and commemorate their father in a timeless manner.

4) To explore and portray the precious relationships between dads and daughters.

5) To juxtapose the universality of grief as well as the uniqueness of everyone’s individual stories

6) To raise money for and awareness of Hospice.

ON A PERSONAL LEVEL
1) I want to turn my “pity party” into something positive.
2) Pay if forward and make my dad proud.
3) To help myself and others feel close to our dads again.

First Round Submissions Deadline – December 11th, 2008

Second Round Submissions Deadline – January 21st, 2009

FINAL SUBMISSION DEADLINE – MARCH 18th, 2009

Update:

I recently received an email from a member of the club who did not actually contribute a piece for the book, but was still very curious to see how I was coming along with the project. One of her friends had just lost her father too and she was hoping to buy the book for her friend.

Also, just today I learned that a grade/high school classmate of mine lost her father this weekend. In trying to compose an email to her, I fell short of words. What I really wanted to do, besides hug her, was to give her a copy of the book, so she could know she is not alone in her grief.

Both situations reminded me of why I am on this journey, as well as reminded me that I need to post an update as to my progress.

So…here’s the dealio: As of today, I have a completed manuscript with over fifty submissions broken out into seven chapters, for which I have written all seven introductions. The stories are as different from one another as I could have imagined, but yet also proved my original theory that grief is universal. From sudden death to suicide, from prolonged illness to tragedy on 9/11, each story represents a truth for every woman who has lost her dad.

I like to call it the Les Miserables of the inspirational book world; someone dies in every chapter, but in the end, the reader is left to reflect on the beauty and wonder of life.

I waivered for an entire year on what to title the book, and ultimatley decided to go with The Dead Dads Club. At first I was hesitant to give it such a harsh sounding name, but it was truly the only title that has resonated with me. Plus, it makes the subject matter pretty clear.

I had my first “Thanks, but no thanks” email from an agent, but that’s not breaking my stride. There are women joining the club everyday that will gain solace and inspiration from a book like this, so now it’s just about finding the right fit.

I have also begun work on a website/blog, under the same name, where women who were not able to contribute to the book, can submit stories of their fathers. It will be a place to commiserate and celebrate our dads. I am going donate proceeds from the site to San Diego Hospice as well as the National Foundation for Hospice, since they are the ones who “loved my dad to death” and who helped me stumble along my journey of grief.

If you are interested in submitting a piece for inclusion on the site (even if you also have one in the book) please email me at mbgodwin@gmail.com. Or if you are a graphic and/or web designer who would like to donate your energy to this project please let me know, since this too is a labor of love for me, and there are not many funds to back it up at this point.

I am incredibly proud that I have come this far with this project that started as a hair brained idea in a stream-of-consciousness writing exercise. The journey has been joyous so far, and I have met incredible women along the way. I will most certainly be updating this blog as soon as a publisher realized what a gem it is.

59 Comments

  1. 1
    Margie McCartney says:

    Mary: Shari Millman is our VP of OPerations at PRA HQ. She shared wtih me the story of your book and I think it’s great. I am going to e-mail you several things and you can feel free to share them in your book. My father was my very best friend. Three weeks after I started at PRA, we had our National Sales Meeting and I got and sang a song I had written for my dad’s 80th birthday party. Six months later, he was dead.
    I JUST started dating a guy 6 months ago. It’s the first relationship I have had since my dad died. So much of me died with him. He was so beautiful. I will send you a photo snail mail if you send me your address.
    Your new friend,
    Margie

    Posted on: October 24th, 2008 at 9:19 pm

  2. 2
    Alexis Powell says:

    I really do appreciate all your efforts and all the beautiful women out there that will be contributing to the book project. I promise to submit an entry very very soon… I have written it about 100 times in my head… but it still is not on paper. Thank you for your time an energy that you are putting into this project. What a wonderful Christmas gift to my Daddy in heaven. Also, I have a co-worker who has a friend that may be interested. I will be sure to share this web address with them.
    love, alexis.

    – October 28th, 2008 at 11:07 pm

    • Mary Burt-Godwin says:

      I look forward to reading your entry Alexis. Love you girl!

      – October 30th, 2008 at 3:33 am

  3. 3
    April says:

    hi,
    I just landed on your blog via your comment on Mrs. G’s website, and this topic grabbed me. I have had to clean my glasses three times now and wipe my eyes even more just reading the description of your project. I am a member of The Club. 8 years now and it hurts as much now as it did then. And I’m gonna have to clean the glasses AGAIN b4 I end this! yiikes. So I am not a writer, yet, and I am a very green blogger. But I would like to find out more about this project, in terms of how to contribute. Should I just type it all out and send it to you? What do I do?
    God bless you for this project. Mine is a complicated story and while I do have a brother and sister who lost the same father, we have each dealt (or not dealt) with it in very different ways. I have yet to find someone who I can grieve with as a daughter who has lost her father.

    – November 1st, 2008 at 7:39 pm

    • Mary Burt-Godwin says:

      Thank you so much for sharing and posting! Your comment is the reason why I am doing this project! I want women to connect on this subject because the grief is deep and raw. I tear up nearly every time I talk to about my dad or anyone else’s for that matter.
      I would love to hear more about your father and your experience and I would love to have you contribute to the book. Feel free to email me at mbgodwin@gmail.com.
      btw, I too am green at blogging and I have never been much of a writer so this whole world is quite foreign to me. But I feel very passionately about this subject and this project and what better way to reach people in this day and age but through cyberspace?
      Cheers to you!

  4. 4
    Heather C. says:

    I found you through NaBloPoMo and joined the club there. But so deep is my daily ache of grief that I came here to read more. This is a wonderful endeavor you are doing here. There have been times when I have wondered if maybe I am the odd one out, that other people could get over losing their fathers. Apparently not. Thank you. Today is has been a comfort to know there are others.

    – November 11th, 2008 at 8:38 am

  5. 5
    momzombie says:

    I’m excited about your book project. I apologize for taking so long and needing a kick in the pants to come on over and read about it.
    I’d love to submit something for your consideration.
    I’m working on a post for NaBloPoMo that should run soon. I’m weighing my words carefully because it’s only the second time I’ve written openly about my late father. So, after I post it to my blog, I’ll contact you or put something on NaBloPoMo site related to it.
    –MomZombie

    – November 12th, 2008 at 2:48 pm

    • Mary Burt-Godwin says:

      So glad you’re interested in the project. I look forward to reading about your Dad!

  6. 6
    Fabi says:

    It was great speaking with you today. I lost my father 5 years ago and its still hard, but it does get better. I live in the house where my father grew up. I live in an area where we have a bay in front of the house and that is where we spread his ashes per his request. he said he always wanted to be here, the best place on Earth :) He loved this place. I do too.
    As I look out and see the fog rolling in, I can still see the white balloons my sister, brother and I released with his ashes while on the surf boards in the middle of the freezing bay in January! What were we thinking! No wet suits, crazy, but that’s what Dad wanted. I miss him so much, thank you for doing this.
    It will be an honor to contribute. You are such a wonderful person and many congrats.
    I will have a submission for you soon and ask my sister to as well, she still has a difficult time Especially around January ( when he went home to Heaven ) and Dad’s birthday.

    – November 19th, 2008 at 4:20 pm

    • Mary Burt-Godwin says:

      So glad you’re on board Fabi. Great talking to you today, we’ll talk soon. xo

  7. 7
    Andrea says:

    I lost my father when I was 16, he was 48. He was flying to a professional conference in Ohio. His plane took off from a small airport in NW Milwaukee. They circle west and developed engine trouble. the radioed the tower and told them that they were coming back. The tower saw the smoke and new what had happened. The plane landed behind my uncles house on a busy street. They landed on a car. My aunt went out to talk to the reporters. When she found out what company the plane was from she wanted to know who was on the plane since her brother-in-law worked there. My father’s name was the first one read.

    I remember my sister coming to school to pick me up and tell me what happened. We then went to the elementary school to pick up my youngest sister.

    My mother was left a widow at 42 with five daughters, three in college. She did not get my father’s pension because he was not 55. The laws have since changed.

    This tore my family apart. We all struggled with our emotions. The worst thing is that everyone kept telling us to not cry because we had to be strong for our mother. I received no councelling and never cried.

    My father never saw any of us graduate from college, get married and never saw any of his grandchildren. I remember one time when my daughter was playing “Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring” on the harp at church. I was thinking that I wish that my father had been there to hear this. I realized that he was there and he heard her.

    My son has become an engineer and is very much like my father that it is scarey. I see so many of his mannerisms in my son.

    – November 22nd, 2008 at 1:05 pm

  8. 8
    Carla Coffey says:

    I want and need to share my story – but seeing as how postings on the internet can be so dated, please give me a deadline. I don’t want to miss the opportunity, or learn that your project is finished! Thank you.

    My story is from a 50-ish mother’s point of view, who lost her father at age 15. I now have a daughter who is a former Miss. (I don’t have a website, but included her photo website from her year.) Thanks

    – November 23rd, 2008 at 4:48 am

  9. 9
    Bee says:

    I am also interested. Like Carla I would like to know your deadline and timelines, and a little more information about the format of the book.

    I am part of the club–lost my father at age 6 but it has affected my whole life.

    – November 28th, 2008 at 8:08 am

  10. 10
    Lynn Chapman says:

    Thank you for this opportunity. I became part of this club 35 years ago. Did it affect my self-esteem growing up without a father? You bet it did, especially since my step-father proved to be a poor substitute. My story is from a 45-yr-old woman’s POV who lost her father at age 10 (he was only 36). I see so much of him in my brother (who was only 2 when he died) and my son who continues to ask questions about “Grandpa Johnny”. I sent you an e-mail with some logistical questions, then I stumbled upon this blog site where it appears others have the same questions. Thanks in advance for getting back to us.

    – November 29th, 2008 at 6:37 am

  11. 11
    Mary Burt-Godwin says:

    The deadline for submissions is December 11th, although it can be extended if needed. Glad you’re interested. I’ll email you.

    – November 29th, 2008 at 4:21 pm

  12. 12
    momzombie says:

    The second installment of my dad story posted on my blog today, Dec. 5. It’s not been easy to write as it drew up feelings I’ve not had to deal with in years. But in the end it was a good journey for me to take again. I’ll probably do more writing about him in the future. There are so many facets to any one person it’s hard to sum it all up in one post. Thank you for providing the inspiration/motivation to do this. Let me know if you need anything further

    – December 5th, 2008 at 6:44 pm

  13. 13
    Lynn Chapman says:

    Good luck with publishing – it will come to fruition. Dream big, m’dear, dream big!

    – December 14th, 2008 at 4:21 pm

  14. 14
    Susan Stephenson says:

    Will submit something after Christmas

    – December 22nd, 2008 at 12:01 pm

  15. 15
    Donna says:

    What a wonderful idea!!! I lost my father almost 6 years ago and have kept wondering if maybe I was the only one who had the feelings or moods for lack of a better word. I have to say thank you for doing this. Not only am I sure it will lift a lot of our spirits but it will be something wonderful! I would definitely send you something!

    – December 24th, 2008 at 12:30 pm

    • Mary Burt-Godwin says:

      I look forward to reading your submission. Thank you!

      – December 26th, 2008 at 5:15 pm

  16. 16
    joanna says:

    We must be kindred spirits. I’ve been blogging about my father’s dementia and eventual death (Nov. 7, 2008). If you go to my blog, check out The Crying Room.

    I think your book will do a lot of good for a lot of folks.

    – January 3rd, 2009 at 1:13 pm

  17. 17
    Laurie says:

    After reading all of the comments and your Book project, it is comforting to know that we all have the same kind of feelings and there is the same sense of loss. I have been “dealing” with the loss of my father since I can remember. And then the loss of a wonderful step-father 11 years ago. It sure does not get easier however it does get better with time. I had to go through a lot of anger to deal with the absence of my real dad in my life growing up. I’ll share more of that later. I am sure your book can help all of us to heal and if there is still time, I would possibly like to contribute also………thank you for sharing and allowing me to share with you…….all of you.

    – January 3rd, 2009 at 4:07 pm

    • Mary Burt-Godwin says:

      Laurie, I would love to have you contribute something. I will be in touch in an email. Thanks so much for reaching out.

      – January 4th, 2009 at 10:37 pm

  18. 18
    Allison says:

    It is almost six years to the day since my father had a massive heart attack. He died on his birthday. I remember thinking ,”who dies on their birthday of all days?”

    I don’t put my thoughts together very well, and tend to ramble on, so I don’t think that my story would be something that would be worth using in your book. But I wanted to say “THANK YOU,” At the time of his sudden death, I had just moved to a new state and started a new job. I was “out of sorts” to begin with and then had to add his death on top of it all. I tried grief groups, but didn’t feel like ANYONE understood what it was liked to loose their father at 25. I was mad at my circumstances and bascially shut down and stopped talking about it. As grief always does, if you don’t deal with it, it started coming through in different ways. I eventually found myself with a full blown exercise addiction and an eating disorder. I have since gotten that under control, and learned to deal with my grief in more “conventional” ways. But if there was a book around this this, It would have made a HUGE difference to me.

    So thank you for thinking enough of others to want to pursue this, and I will be one of the first ones to buy it!

    – January 10th, 2009 at 8:47 pm

  19. 19
    Paulette Alves says:

    I just lost my father, 82 years old, the day after Thanksgiving.

    I still find myself falling apart at the smallest things. Sometimes, I can tell stories about him and laugh. Stories like, at 75 years old his project was to build his own house (which he did). Or, a couple of days before his stroke he moved his ice fishing house onto a trailer. My brother-in-law and husband are puzzled at how he could have moved this 500lb structure onto a trailer that is two feet off the ground all by himself.

    He had a major stroke on November 22th. I flew from Virginia to North Dakota as soon as I could. Although he was unconscious, my four sisters and I talked to him hoping he could hear us. I would read my book to him all night. We all took shifts, so someone would always be there.

    On Monday the doctor took us into a private room and told us that if dad did become conscious the best scenario would be that he would be bedridden and would have to be spoon feed. This was not what Dad would have wanted, so my Mom had to agree to take him off life support per his living will. That was a tough decision for all of us.

    After taking him off support, he seemed to just be asleep. He was making sounds like he was snoring. (Just like he did when he fell asleep in front of the TV) The doctor informed us that this was because his brain was still sending signals to breath and that was normal.

    We continued to take shifts all day and night. On Thursday November 28th around 2:00am, three of my sisters saw he stopped breathing. The nurse came and told them that he had past.

    That night we still celebrate my sister’s 50th birthday. Hindsight, this was a good decision. We played a game to see who knew her the best by answering questions. We were all able to laugh.

    I have a special picture of him I carry around with me. He is walking towards the camera. In the background is the grain bins on the farm. He is holding a tool in one hand and has a huge smile on his face. This picture shows who he was. My dad was a farmer and his farm meant everything to him. The tool speaks of how he enjoyed working all the way to the end. The smile reminds me of what his family and friends commented as his infectious laugh.

    I now think how I should have visited and called him more.

    You can still read about our days during this time on:
    http://www.caringbridge.org
    website name: rudolphschramm

    – January 11th, 2009 at 3:24 pm

  20. 20
    Amy Lepore says:

    Hi, Mary! I think your book idea is great. I would like to submit something for you consideration. Feel free to contact me at the email I gave when leaving this note. My father has been gone now for almost three years, and I still sit and bawl sometimes. I miss him so much. We were expecting his death after his extended illness, but the expectation does not lessen the pain and emptiness. The only thing I have to hang on to is the fact that I did call and visit often…we spoke the day he died and he was in such good spirits. I have that happy memory and many others, but I would love to be able to pick up the phone and hear his gruff voice once again. He was 59 years old. The hardest part is keeping my mother sane in the midst of my own pain.

    – January 11th, 2009 at 7:36 pm

  21. 21
    Julie Ames says:

    Dear Mary,
    My dad died on September 2,, 2008 at age 82 four months after his wife of 25 years passed away. 2008 was quite a year for funerals. I live in California, and Dad spent 12 weeks in intensive care in two different hospitals on the East coast. I don’t remember spending much time with my children over the spring and summer, as I commuted to New York and Baltimore. Dad spent every day in intensive care, always on a respirator. Achingly sad, as his reason to enter the hospital and undergo open heart surgery was to “be able to breathe”. . A stoic, North Dakota-raised Eagle Scout, his determination to recover and return home never wavered. At 6′5″, Dad was an enormous, quiet, patient, principled man. One of the most difficult aspects of enduring a parent’s death is the interactions with your siblings. At time it was uplifing, at other times it was unbearable. Pain at the prospect of loss can create intense and unexpected emotions in others, leading them to say things you never expect. My mother died in 1981, and no matter what, the memory is very strong. My in-laws died in 2004 and 2006. So, my knowledge of the death-and-dying process and the miracles and limits of medical care, along with my career in the biotechnology industry, made me excrutiatingly sensitive to each step along the way. It was terrifying to be able to predict certain phases of Dad’s slow decline and I hated my knowledge sometimes. Concurrent with his hospitalization, my former step-family decided to sell the house he would’ve returned to, desptie promises and legal documents that this wouldn’t happen. Dad died never knowing that his beloved home was being sold. Like I said, people do very strange things when experiencing loss. Thank goodness Dad taught us to turn the other cheek. We became his fevernt protectors from that moment on. His funeral was a celebration of his life, for which we were grateful. I’d love to provide a piece for your book.

    – March 8th, 2009 at 9:18 am

    • Mary Burt-Godwin says:

      Hi Julie,

      I just read this comment after reading your email. I am just for ALL of your losses. You are an incredibly strong woman and I am so honored to have you along on the journey with me and all the women of the book project. I look forward to reading your piece.

      Mary

      – March 8th, 2009 at 10:23 am

  22. 22
    Pauline says:

    sweetie, if you still want to talk to me for the book, I’m all for it. My dad’s death at the age of 50 is something I haven’t written about yet, and I know I’ve avoided it because, well, the subject just sucks in the worst possible way. Send me an email. Or DM and we can talk by phone.
    It was lovely meeting you at Bloggy boot camp. Major hugs and high fives for rockin’ it for realz.

  23. 23
    hip_m0m says:

    I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before, but my mom lost her father when she was only 15. I’m passing this along to her in hopes that she’ll submit her story or at least connect with those who have been there. Thanks for this.

  24. 24
    Jean says:

    Mary, I hope the right publisher comes along soon. You are doing a great thing.

  25. 25

    I also lost my father in 2001. There isn’t a day that passes…

  26. 26
    trash says:

    Great idea Mary. My dad died when I was quite young and I am fascinated about women’s relationships with their dads. Looking forward to reading the published book.

  27. 27

    I lost my dad when I was 17 and he was 58, from pancreatic cancer. It was devastating. My kids are now just a little older than I was at the time and I just can’t imagine anyone having to grow up or into adulthood without a father. Looking forward to reading your book. Too bad I didn’t see this soon, as I would have loved to contribute my story.

  28. 28
    smscott says:

    im lucky enough to still have my dad, but i joined the “dead moms club” july of last year, so thankyou for helping and sharing with those who have lost their dads

  29. 29
    Tura Lura says:

    I was 18 when my father passed away, just a year and five days after my mother died. Neither of them lived to see me graduate high school. It’s been thirteen and fourteen years, but some days it’s still tough.

    I wish I had found this back when you were accepting submissions for the book, but I can at least write something for the upcoming website. It will probably take me a while to compose, as writing about it makes me cry. (Which is why I haven’t written about it much. Or at all, really. A few lines here and there over the years.)

    If you don’t hear from me about this in the next month or two, feel free to give me (@luraj2612) a nudge on Twitter.

  30. 30

    […] by MamaMary’s soon-to-be-published book and website project, The Dead Dad’s Club, I’m posting this piece about my father. I’m eternally grateful for Mary, who I met […]

  31. 31

    Not sure why I am just discovering this club, but I alas, I can be a member. I lost my Dad 4 years ago. He was 55. He was like the Marlboro Man in flesh and blood: So handsome in Wranglers and cowboy hat. Cigarettes added mystery somehow. You could find him doing hard labor all day and then washing up for going out, in a small town that meant a few beers at the dance hall. He raised me like a boy so at 10 I was shooting guns and driving a car on the backroads. He always wanted me to be tough but he always said how pretty I was. I miss him and tear up even writing this.

    He was greatly missed when he passed. He had grown hard from life but not to his friends, he gave everything he had. I only wish he could see his 3 almost four amazing grandkids. Three boys, he would have been so proud. His most favorite thing in life was his grandbabies. I guess how and why he passed is sort of irrelevant once he’s gone. It only taught me that life is a lot shorter than you think and you never know how many days there really are so hold onto today and wake up tomorrow grateful. Bruce Peck, a good man who taught me that tea is only really good made in a glass jar, that deviled eggs need lemon and that it will all be okay in the morning.

    • Mary says:

      I don’t think I ever replied to this post. I am sorry that you are in this crummy club. I love the last line of this comment. If you are inspired or interested in writing more about your dad or any of your memories (like memories elicited from that last line) check out DeadDadsClub.com. I would love to hear more about your rough and tough Marlboro Man of a dad.

  32. 32

    Hi Mary:

    I’ve been looking for contact information for you, but I can’t find any so I’m sending this message here. I spoke with Stefanie Mullen with Ooph.com today and she highly recommended you for a project I’m working on.

    My name is Shaun Parsons, and I reached out to you last year about a contest that
    I’m involved with for Honda Motors, USA. I’m a marketing specialist working with
    MeadsDurket (a San Diego based advertising agency). In doing some research for one
    of our clients, Honda Motors, I came across your blog. We are looking to reach out
    to moms in the San Diego area through a local contest where we will be giving away
    over $10,000 in cash and prizes and we wanted to know if we could enlist your help.

    We will compensate you for your efforts and support, generate traffic and awareness
    for your web site, and help generate media attention and press for your blog. I
    have a lot more details that I can give you if you’re interested.

    We are meeting this weekend to go over all of the details like the compensation,
    editorial calendar, prizes, etc. Please let me know a good day and time to call you
    so we can go over this.

    Please feel free to email me back or call me back on my mobile at 404-423-1227.

    S

  33. 33
    The M Half says:

    I’m a little late to this “party,” and sure wish I’d found out about this in 2003 when I lost my Dad to suicide. I’ve thought a lot about writing a book about my experience as I couldn’t find anything to support me when I needed it. I’ll be checking out your book. I’m sorry you’re part of the club, too.

    • Mary says:

      I am sorry to hear you are in the club too. If you would like to write something for the DeadDadsClub.com, please let me know. There is a link on the site to submit your story or you can email me at mary at deaddadslclub dot com.

  34. 34
    Carmen says:

    I found out a couple hours ago that my dad had passed away last night in a motorcycle accident. I’m 13 years old and I miss him more than anything.

    • Mary says:

      Carmen, I am so sorry to hear about your sudden, tragic loss. If you need help finding some grief groups for girls your age, please let me know and I will help you. Meanwhile, I will be sending you strength, courage, and light.

  35. 35
    boxympycy says:

    delight is to bargain the cat to sleep The largeness of the cat not obedient came to my feet I be experiencing shanghai massage senior hand

  36. 36
    Karen says:

    It’s been 7 years. A few years ago, a colleague said it takes about 7 years to get your life together. This is the first year it hasn’t hurt as much. I usually allow myself to cry on Father’s Day, his birthday and his deathday. I almost forgot his deathday and it devastated me. I know that it is good and healthy and life moves on. Tomorrow is his birthday. I just remembered. Now my biggest fear is that I am forgetting him and maybe I am a bad daughter.
    All I really wanted to say is that life losing a father is a process.

  37. 37

    […] it’s not so savvy or sassy.  But I heard about Mary from the Mama Mary Show and the Dead Dads Club putting on “Hugs for the Holidays” for those grieving lost ones during the holidays and […]

  38. 38

    […] vowing to fight it. I reached out to the fabulous Mary of the Mama Mary Show and author of Dead Dads Club and we have joined forces, contacted a few other bloggers who have experienced grief through loss […]

  39. 39
    Joyce says:

    I am just finding you and your blog now.

    Thank-you.

    It’s been two years, and it still hurts. Thank you for creating such an amazing book and I am looking forward to receiving and reading it!

    • Mary says:

      Joyce, I am so sorry for your loss! Oh yes, two years the pain is still so raw and real. I hope you find some solace in the book. Love and light! – Mary

  40. 40
    Michelle says:

    Almost 3 months ago my world stopped. I am 24 years old and on October 27th 2014 my dad was diagnosed with stage 4 stomach, esophageal, and bone cancer. He was willing and ready to fight. The tumor was on the outside of this stomach and esophagus and was not operable but there was some hope to 6 months to a year with chemo. The first step was to get a feeding tube in due to him not being able to swallow hardly anything. We waited and waited for the call for surgery date. Finally on Friday November 7th after calling the doctors at least ten times a day they made the appointment. He was getting his feeding tube the following Monday! We live about an hour away from the hospital and his appointment was at 6am so as we left early that foggy Monday morning my heart was heavy. My big strong dad was becoming weak. He would have tubes coming out of him and by this point was so weak he was hardly able to walk. I helped him out of the car and into the wheel chair and pushed him into the waiting room. As they hooked him up to all of his IVs and stuff I kissed his forehead and told him I loved him. We watched the screen waiting for the update. About an hour later he was in his recovery room! Yay he was going to be strong enough to start his chemo and make him better. I sat in the recovery room for 3 hours with him while he woke up. The doctor came in and told him to start planning his Christmas dinner. He was so confident that with chemo it would shrink enough for him to be with us. The rest of the week after we got him home we was in a lot of pain and in a daze. It was like the meds never wore off. Just 2 days before he passed away he was sitting on the couch next to me and asked me if I was going to miss his sense of humor of course I replied yes! He then said I will miss yours too. We had a few rough night after that. Long sleepless nights. On November 15th 2014 at 11 pm he took a terrible turn for the worse. He couldn’t remember how to walk or talk anymore he just looked at you with a blank stare. I sat in the room with him and noticed that his chest sounded rattled like he just needed to cough some stuff up. We checked his oxygen level and it was at 86. We called 911 to see if maybe they could come clear his throat for him. He was going to have chemo the next day! By time the ambulance arrived it was a little after 330 am on November 16th. The first question they asked was if he was a DNR. Sadly the answer was yes. I ran to call my bothers who live an hour away and they didn’t believe me so as I walked back into the bedroom where my dad was I see him lift his head and take one last deep breath and his face turn white and his body go limp. I screamed! The paramedic who I went to school with since I was a kid grabbed and told me as much as I wanted him to he was going to take another breath. That moment I didn’t feel like a 24 year old women. I became a 5 year old who needed her daddy. It has almost been three months and I still feel as though it is unreal. My mind know he is gone but my heart isn’t ready. I need my daddy. I still wait for the garage door to open and he to walk in and say hi princess. But it’s not happening he’s not coming home. I just want him to come home. Please

    • Mary says:

      Michelle, thank you for sharing your story about your dad. My heart breaks for you and I can so relate to the feelings you describe. I am sending you light and peace and strength as you continue through your journey of grief.

  41. 41
    Kelly says:

    I am 20 and this past December, my dad was taken from me unexpectedly. He had been missing for 10 days before he was finally found in the back of his truck. It is still under investigation; however, police have little leads and it seems they are trying to brush tha case under the rug. I am especially having a hard time dealing with this loss because I was not on good terms with my dad when everything happened. My parents were divorced and I hadn’t always had the best relationship with my dad. In the past couple of years, I decided it would be best to cut him out of my life compeltely. So, I still have a lot of unsolved feelings on top of everything I feel from what has been happening. I was recently diagnosed with severe depression and I feel like I have no one to talk to. As time goes on, it seems both easier and harder to deal with the loss. I just happened to stumble on your blog and I admire what you are doing.I believe everything happens for a reason, though it is hard to find the light in this deep dark hole.

  42. 42
    Rose says:

    I lost my dad in December of 2003 to lung cancer and its related complications. He passed away 31 days after I got married. Not exactly the best way to start a marriage. I believe my husband made it easier for my dad to stop the good fight. I say this because despite all of my accomplishments, my dad always hoped, I would “find a good man”. He worried I would end up alone.
    I was planning my wedding at the time we got his diagnosis. My dad’s only thought was to live long enough to see his 50th wedding anniversary to my mother, and to walk his baby girl down the aisle. God was good to grant him the time to do both.
    My sister and I always got a single rose or carnation every Valentines day, simply left at the door. Sweet treats were left at my door step throughout the year. I always knew it was my dad. Although he refused to admit it the devilish smile always gave him away. He childhood was tough, and despite those hardships, he always made his kids feel special. I miss my dad and think of him every day. I found myself crying recently, missing him as if he had just died. It happens, but not as often as it did in the beginning. My grief was interrupted and the person told me, “what is wrong?” I began to explain, when I was told, “but is has been…”, and I quickly interrupted. I replied that the pain is always there no matter how much time has passed, that I have simply learned to live with it… and that some days are better than others.
    People mean well, but those who have not suffered such a terrible loss do not understand that the profound pain truly never goes away. It is just that God is great and with time helps us live with it.
    My dad was a wonderful husband, father and son. He and my mom sacrificed so much to assure that their kids had a better life. My siblings and I are eternally grateful. He was a wonderful role model. I work to make him proud everyday. I still miss him deeply.
    I often feel his presence and I know that I will see him again someday. Thank you for giving so many a venue to express their thoughts and experiences.

  43. 43
    Brenda says:

    I lost my dad to Acute Myeloid Leukemia. An aggressive stage 4, found too late. He died June 21, 2014. He was 67 years old. Like so many others, my dad was my hero, my champion, my biggest fan. Everything I did in life, I did with his full support or for him. I have been lost without him. My mom is lost without him. They were married 46 years. He was the glue that bound our family. We have all scattered without him. I have found that time does change grief, but when something is wrong, it all boils down to Dad not being here to either having advised me in some way or to vent about it after the fact. This all was so unexpected and although it will be two years this year, the pain is still palpable. I found your website for your book today. I just ordered it. Hoping to find some solace in the stories others have shared.

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