My Son's Dad Died And A Mean Comment From A Classmate Destroyed Us Both

by Jodi Meltzer
Originally Published: 
A toddler boy in a polo shirt with a neutral facial expression in black and white
Zach Vessels/Unsplash

My son lost his dad on September 22, 2018. Last week, a kid at school made fun of him for it.

It went a little something like this: The kids were working in a group in music class. Just four students in a back part of the room, out of the teacher’s earshot. My son saw an unattended recorder and wondered if someone was missing it. “Does anyone know whose recorder that is?” he wondered aloud. The kids shrugged, almost in unison…all except for one of them.

“It must be your father’s recorder,” a student responded, in a snide tone. “Oh, wait, I forgot. You don’t have a father.”

My son swallowed hard, choked back tears, and steadied himself. This vile comment dug deep, but he didn’t want to give the student the satisfaction of crying. The other kids around them stood in stunned silence, with one saying, “That was really mean.” My son said, “Really, dude?” and walked away, dejected.

End scene.

The student muttered just fifteen words. Fifteen words. But those fifteen words changed the trajectory of my son’s life. They effortlessly seared an indelible mark of pain, humiliation, and horror into his impressionable brain, one still trying to grasp the everyday reality of living without his dad.

Despite unspeakable heartache, my son is an inherently happy kid. He typically comes home and regurgitates his day with the enthusiasm of an overzealous puppy. “Mom, I got a touchdown at recess!” “Mom, I ate my whole lunch today.” “Mom, I think I got a 100 on my test!”

Kat Jayne/Pexels

That day, he came home from school more subdued. I pressed, firing off my regular succession of after school questions, but he didn’t budge. That evening, coincidentally, he saw his grief therapist, and he didn’t divulge anything to him either.

I found out what was chipping away at my son’s disposition the next day, but not from him. Another student heard what was said to my son and knew it was despicable. It upset him so much that he told his mom, and, thankfully, she informed me.

I don’t think I have cried that hard since my mother’s funeral. My best friend serendipitously called me after I found out, and I was inconsolable. I could barely get the words out. The fact that this child chose to go for the jugular and hurt mine in such a cruel way simply gutted me.

I can’t even imagine how devastated my beloved boy was by those fifteen words, though he tries to put on a brave face. For him, fourth grade will be remembered as the year a classmate deliberately, maliciously, and publicly hurt him for having a deceased father.

Parents, please teach your kids that some insults are simply off limits. Making fun of someone because he no longer has a father is beyond reprehensible. It reopens wounds that will never close, for grief is a part of him … and he’s only been grieving for a little over one year.

Jordan Whitt/Unsplash

And, while you’re at it, please teach your kids to say something if they hear another child being verbally assaulted. If not for the courage of my son’s friend, I have no idea if this would have ever come to light. My son was worried I would “lose it” if he told me because I love him so much.

He was right.

Teach kindness. Recognize demonstrations of empathy. Reward whistle blowers. Tame mean-spirited kids. Talk about grief. Please.

There are many more children out there who are just like my son, missing a parent they lost. They smile through a crippling pain that their peers don’t relate to or understand. They compartmentalize the grief that makes them different in an effort to fit in. They dread the Father’s Day/Mother’s Day school projects because they break their hearts.

It’s important we see those kids. It’s important we advocate for those kids. It’s important we support those kids … kids like mine.

This article was originally published on