For most of my life, I lived in the long, bitter shadow of a man who called himself a father.
Sr. was the sun everything revolved around—angry, narcissistic, alcoholic. He was louder than joy and sharper than silence. For decades, I performed. I adapted. I made myself smaller. And still, it was never enough.
Writing the Obituary While He Was Still Alive
After years of carrying the weight of his legacy, I made a decision that surprised even me:
I wrote his obituary while he was still alive.
It started at the tail end of the COVID-19 pandemic. I was raw. Exhausted. Tired of carrying unspoken pain like it was my inheritance. I opened a document on my computer and just started writing—not to hurt him, not to make a scene, but to finally tell the truth. To myself, and maybe someday, to others.
I spent over a year rewriting it. Polishing the words. Parsing the truth from the trauma. I wanted to name the damage without becoming it. And when Sr. passed in 2022, I had it ready.
“Lawrence, Sr. can be remembered for being a father to many, and a dad to none.“
With a shaky hand and a pounding heart, I submitted the obituary to our local newspaper. I had no idea what would happen next.
https://www.jacksonville.com/obituaries/pfla0245589
Not for the Outrage. For the Honesty.
Strangers from across the country wrote to thank me. To tell me they saw themselves in my story. That they, too, had fathers who were never dads. That they’d lived in homes where the rules were unspoken and the silence was deafening. Some people called it brutal. Others called it brave.
All I know is: it was honest.
That obituary became the beginning of my memoir.
Why I’m Writing Now
When the story spread, I realized something I hadn’t expected: I wasn’t alone. There were other sons. Other daughters. Other survivors.
People who were tired of pretending the family photo told the whole story. People ready to say out loud what they were never allowed to feel.
That’s why I wrote From Silence to Self-respect.
Because healing isn’t quiet.
Because pain deserves a voice.
Because I spent too long limping through life with someone else’s story strapped to my back.
Now I write to tell the truth. To make space. To help others speak without shame.
And it all started with that obituary.
What about you?
Have you ever written something you didn’t know you needed to say—until it was done? I’d love to hear your story. Reach out here →