Updated: May 8, 2016
Originally Published: May 28, 2011
Today was one of those days when the absence of my dad weighed heavily on my heart. I had a doctor’s appointment to discuss a few minor health concerns and some big dreams for the future, and I longed to call him to share the details. We used to chat multiple times a day—sure, a lot of it was playful bickering, but he was always in the loop. During my pregnancy, he was the first person I called after every check-up. He affectionately dubbed my son Leo “Ocho” (Spanish for “eight”) because he looked like the number eight in an early ultrasound. It’s mind-boggling to think that the little baby I kept updating my dad about has just celebrated his third birthday. My dad wasn’t there for that milestone.
I’m one of many parents navigating the journey of raising kids without the guidance of our own mothers or fathers. My mom passed away on December 13, 2008, just months after I graduated from college and got married. She was only 50 and succumbed to liver failure due to a long struggle with alcoholism. In her final years, I maintained some distance due to her addiction, but we made amends before she passed. I was there to witness her last moments, and just days prior, she expressed her regrets about not being there for me enough, voicing a desire for a home, a dog, and for me to be her best friend. I reassured her that I turned out just fine. I even asked if she thought I’d make a good mom, to which she confidently replied, “Yes.” I wasn’t entirely sure, but I held onto that belief as much as I could.
My dad passed away nearly two years later, on December 15, 2010. He was 70 and had been battling kidney failure, heart problems, liver issues, and a host of other ailments. He and my mom had divorced long before, so I grew up splitting time between Arizona and Colorado, and often felt like I was in his own world. While he had overcome his own addictions by the time I was born, he was a complex man—loving yet difficult. We spoke daily and often clashed, but as I grew older, our bond deepened. He attended my college graduation, missed my wedding, but most importantly, he got to meet Leo. He moved back to Arizona just months before his passing, and although caring for a baby and an ailing parent was a whirlwind, I’m grateful that at least one of my parents got to meet my little guy—my pride and joy.
As you might have gathered, Leo was born during the time between my parents’ departures. My life seemed to unfold in a cycle of loss and new beginnings—death, life, death—along with the milestones of graduating, getting married, buying a home, and starting our careers. My husband, who has been incredibly patient and supportive, has been through a lot with me in these past few years. But let’s refocus on parenting without parents.
Being a parent without my own is a lonely experience. I can’t send my mom photos of Leo or call my dad when he does something adorable. As Leo grows, his only grandparents will be my husband’s parents. Mine will just be a chapter of “my mom passed before I was born.” Adding to the complexity, my mom had her struggles with alcohol, so I’m unsure how involved she would have been even if she were still here. My dad had his own challenges and differing views on parenting, so who knows what that would have looked like? But now that they’re gone, the “what ifs” feel pointless. I plan to honor their memory through photos—images of my mom young and vibrant, and my dad cradling Leo as a baby. I’ll share with Leo that his grandpa called him “Ocho” and that his grandma believed in me as a parent. I’ll also discuss our family’s history with addiction, emphasizing the importance of responsibility and smart choices. The gritty details? Not necessary for now. (How do you explain death to a curious child? Still figuring that out!)
On a positive note, parenting without my own parents (and being an only child) has opened the door to learning how to accept love for both myself and Leo. My in-laws are fantastic grandparents and live close by. His G-Ma (my mother-in-law) cares for him several times a week, and his G-Pa (my father-in-law) takes him on weekend adventures to the children’s museum and local play areas. My aunt, my mom’s sister, said Leo could call her grandma (her grandkids and Leo eventually call her Mimi) when he was just a few weeks old, and she was there at his birth. He also has an enthusiastic aunt (my husband’s sister) who is planning his first trip to Disneyland and a host of honorary aunts and uncles ready to shower him with love and attention. While I can’t text parents with updates, my wonderful family and friends receive daily snapshots of Leo’s every move! And the first person I turn to for parenting advice? You guessed it—his G-Ma.
Many kids grow up without one or more grandparents, and for Leo, this will simply be his norm. Grandma and grandpa will be my husband’s parents, and Mimi lives nearby with all of his cousins. The real challenge for me lies in accepting this as my new normal. Like all parenting journeys, it’s about embracing the shadows while being grateful for the hidden blessings.
Will my dad ever take Leo fishing? No, but he left behind a blue kid’s fishing pole that I plan to dust off when the time is right. There’s even a pink one, because who knows what adventures await us in the future?
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In summary, parenting without parents can be challenging, yet it also opens up new avenues for love and support. Embracing the memories of our loved ones while cherishing the present moments allows us to build a unique family journey.