What My Father Taught Me: Fear is a Liar

Here is Cathy Wyman’s reflection on her father’s life and death, and ultimately, how a life lived in fear cuts us off from those we love.

My father was a Spitfire pilot during World War II from 1940-1944. He was shot down over enemy lines and had to hide in the bushes until a British patrol came along and took him to the French Underground to escape being captured by the Germans.  He was flying over Normandy the day the Allied Forces invaded the beach and wrote in his flight log how the ocean was red with blood. The youngest pilot overseas at that time during the war, he was also the first Allied Forces person to land in France after it was liberated. My father bravely faced death every time he went up in the air, and some would consider him a national hero. But he lived in fear his entire life—fear of being alone and the only one left.

After the war my father married, had four children and led a pretty normal life until the day his wife died from cancer and he was left alone again. With four adult children now living their own lives, I think he felt totally alone…his worst fear had come true!  He was the last one standing. The thought of being alone was unbearable so he married again, the first woman who came along.

His second wife, I think out of jealousy and fear, wanted him all to herself, and cut him off from everyone—his four children and everyone he knew.  The next 25 years with her were full of anger, abuse, constant threats of  leaving him, and a barrage of insults about what a horrible person he was when she did not get what she wanted. He tried to drum up the courage to leave a couple of times, and gave us false hope that we might see our father again. He would call one of us, saying they had a fight and he was leaving, but he always changed his mind and stayed. My father gave his wife everything—he handed over all his money, his freedom, threw his family away, and gave away his soul. He could not have an opinion, make a decision or do anything unless it was what she wanted…for 25 years! He missed out on his daughters’ weddings, the births of his grandchildren, family dinners, and countless birthdays. He endured years of abuse just so he would not be alone.

Finally, when their health was failing, my father and his wife went to live in a nursing home. Dad would go a week or two without seeing his wife, but it was too late, he had the beginnings of Alzeimers. He was not aware that he had been absolutely fine during those weeks on his own, alone.

In the end, my father was given the news that his wife had only hours to live. He was taken to go see her one last time. I think he saw for himself this was the end for her; his mind was tormented with how he was going to be the only one left, and that he would be totally alone again—so much so that that day, he had a massive stroke and died! I think he wanted to make sure he was not going to be the one left alone, and he died of fear.

I am sad that my dad wasted such a precious human life, running from his fear of being alone. How could such a brave war hero live a life in fear? It is heartbreaking that he lived without realizing the freedom or joy that comes with stepping out of the cocoon, facing our fears head on, and finally conquering them.

Fear is a liar.  Fear plays on our most intimate weaknesses. The unknown is scary, but our fears are never as bad as we think they will be. Cowering in our cramped, stinky and stale cocoons, we believe we are safe; but no matter how horrible the cocoon is, it is not living life! If only my father could have faced his fears with openness and curiosity at all the possibilities that were out there for him.  Instead he froze time, froze the space, and could only focus on one thing, living a life alone.

Even though my father wanted nothing to do with me for most of his life, I can’t help but feel compassion for him. I can see how confused he must have been to have lived a life with abuse, unhappiness and turmoil, just so he didn’t have to face being alone. I also know what it is like to be afraid and to hide in fear.  I know what it is like to hide in my cocoon and to hang on for dear life, so that I won’t have to face the unknown.  I have compassion for how much pain he must have been in all his life.

The one lesson my father taught me:  it is better to face your fears than to live a life hiding from them. Maybe his life was not wasted after all?  From now on, I will try to be brave and fearless and face what he could not…the unknown, open spaces.