Parent Time

I take my three-year-old son, Myles, to the park at the corner of our street almost every day. People who frequent the park are used to seeing us — father and son in the sandbox, on the climber or chasing each other. Recently I was talking with one of the women who walks her dog there. I told her that two years ago my wife, Susan, died.

"You're single?" she blurted out incredulously.
"Yes."
"I had no idea."
"Well, of course not," I shrugged. "How could you?"
"You're doing a great job with your son," she said immediately with maudlin approval.

I thanked her, but I couldn't help wondering if my performance rating was as glowing when she thought I was married. If I had been a stay-at-home dad while my wife was at work, would she have even bothered?
When someone learns that my wife died leaving me with a six-month-old son, the first thing they do is offer sympathy. That seems like standard behaviour. But this woman was more struck by the fact that I was a single father and that was what she reacted to.

This type of reaction is primarily why, until recently, I rarely told people that I was a single father. I couldn't imagine why it should make a difference in how I'm perceived. I hated feeling as though being a single father is a rare and glorious thing. When I became a single dad, it was anything but glorious, and being made to feel like a rare breed was no solace.

Originally published in Today's Parent, June 2006