How to Date When Your Dad Is Dead

On a new and bizarre reality.

Ahh, the age old conundrum.

It was hard enough to navigate dating when your dad was dying. Every invitation to drinks or coffee was met with the mind-numbing realization that if you were to go out and have fun and forget, however briefly, that your dad is in hospice care, you might miss a life-altering phone call, or that you somehow let him down by not keeping your focus on him instead. It’s a moment-to-moment decision and you recognize that you’re gaining a reputation for canceling plans at the last minute. So what, you think, my dad didn’t feel good today. I cried in the train again. This stranger simply does not matter in comparison.

When that call finally comes and the hours after your dad dies turn to days, which turn to weeks and months, and the rhythm of your life gradually returns to something resembling normal, you cautiously resume texting with a few intriguing people. It registers that not every second of your life will be consumed by the sadness you feel—which makes you feel guilty, no matter how much your therapist assures you that it’s normal—and so you suddenly find yourself in the middle of the workday, mind occupied by meetings and Slack messages, or in the middle of the grocery store trying to remember if a recipe calls for one lemon or two, or, eventually, on a date—because you’re human and you want attention and to feel something enjoyable and sexy for a change. That’s when it hits. Oh yeah, you think. My dad isn’t here anymore.

Pretty distractions are always welcome

Not that you let any of this show on your face, of course. The person sitting across from you just continues to ask about your job, your siblings, your pets, your favorite karaoke song, blissfully unaware that your dad is dead while they order you another gin martini. You decide that this isn’t a fun fact to share on a first date, especially since your attention is often elsewhere and you’ll likely never see them again. Still, you’re shocked that people can’t sense your grief when you first meet them, as if the weight of it is as visible and peculiar as wearing a wool coat in the middle of summer.