14 Years
Dad, 14 Years After
Here's to us all!
Hello, and welcome to the Dead Dad Page. This is a collection of images and text pertaining to dead dads. You might ask why we would make such a page. The reason is simple: because we can.
Recently, deaddad.com expired and went into a
domain name auction. We acquired it and, since you
own the .net version of this domain name, we
wanted to provide you with the opportunity to own the
preferred .com version.
Wednesday we observed the one-year anniversary of Dad's death. We shared memories, company and a nice boat cruise. We sent him to the ocean as he wanted, and we tried to let him go.
Letting go isn't easy. I've been more emotional the last couple weeks leading up to this. I cry when least expected. He was only 57.
Sunday morning, a dear friend lost her brother of 25 years to a brain tumor. There's just too much loss.
Mark Daniel Woodward
August 31, 1949 - April 16, 2007

He was a lousy father, apparently an iffy husband, but a very likable man. He could make buddies anywhere and strike up a conversation with anyone. He always had an entertaining story or joke to share. He was unafraid to try anything. Dad was larger than life, and so is his absence.
Labels: death

Here's a late photo from my August 31 party in honor of my father's birthday. He was never afraid of morbid humor, so I figured he'd kinda like our take on it.
Reston, Va.: Hi Carolyn,
I'm an avid reader, and I'm hoping you can help me. My father passed away at age 64 unexpectedly this past March. I miss him unbelievably, and am not looking forward to Sunday. Any advice on how to march on through, and what should I do for my mother, who will probably struggle on Sunday also?
Carolyn Hax: Don't march. Remember him, honor him, celebrate him, cry, but don't march. Think of it as visiting a gravesite. It doesn't change the fact that someone's gone, it doesn't stop the world from turning, it's just an invitation to bring someone to the front of your mind for a while. Since it sounds like he's already there, I doubt Sunday will bring any surprises you haven't already shown yourself you can handle.
Here's the rest of the chat.
I don't know what's more messed up: turning your dad into a diamond or snorting him.





On June 20, 2004, Jodie and I went to the beach on Cape Cod (a.k.a. The Hook). There were all these families there who were like wishing a happy father's day to their dads and who were running into neighbors and saying stuff like, "oh, are you guys doing father's day stuff?" and stuff like that. Well, Jodie and I felt left out. See, we can't hang out with our dads on father's day, because our dads are dead dads. I mean, I suppose we COULD hang out with them, but that's kind of fucked. Anyway, I digress. So we decided we wanted to have dads too, just like all the rest of the lovely families on the beach. Um, these beachgoing families also had coordinated Land's End beach totes and umbrellas, but I didn't see us coveting that stuff. But again, I digress. So we wanted a dad so much that we made one:
We now return you to our normally scheduled Dead Dad Page, already in progress.
John H. 'Jack' Deignan III, 62 |
George E. Leighton |
Jodie and eeka: [talking about computers]
Jaime: Hey, you guys just reminded me...you know what I want to get my dad?
Jodie: A tombstone?