Lost Two Fathers to Poor Health — Here’s How It Changed My Life

I’ve been blessed to have two men play fatherly roles in my life. And both of them are gone now—taken by the same quiet epidemic that affects far too many men, especially Black men.

They were taught to work until the body breaks, to hold pain inside, to never ask for help.

They believed that strength meant endurance, not care.

This November, as the world observes Movember, I find myself thinking deeply about how men’s health impacts the families they leave behind—and how much it shapes the women and children who love them.

My biological father was an immigrant from Trinidad.
He was a man of the earth—he ate simply, moved often, and carried a quiet discipline.

But later in life, he decided to move back home.

At first, it sounded like a dream fulfilled—living out his days in the warmth of the island that raised him.

But behind that dream was a harsher truth: limited healthcare, scarce resources, and the belief that asking for help was a sign of weakness.

He became ill.
He was stressed, undernourished, and isolated.
He died alone in a hospital, without the support and care his body and spirit needed.

Around the same time, my mother remarried my stepfather, who coincidentally shared my father’s name.

He was gentle, smart, and steady.
He built a good life for us—worked hard, provided stability, and gave us a home.

But years of drinking, smoking, and poor eating habits quietly eroded his health.

When he lost his job of thirty years, his sense of purpose vanished.
Depression took root.

His body, already overworked and undernourished, couldn’t carry the weight of that loss. He died of a heart attack not long after.

Two different men.
Two different lives.

But both shared the same pattern—dedication without rest, responsibility without support, strength without softness.

To raise a boy in this world, I know now as a mother of 2.5 yr old, means teaching him that health is strength.
That vulnerability is not weakness.
That rest and nourishment are not luxuries—they’re lifelines.

Both my fathers left behind three women who are doing the best we can to navigate life without their protection, their presence, and their emotional steadiness.

We miss them deeply.

This November, TERRA-TORY will be honoring men’s health—not just the physical, but the mental and emotional wellbeing that sustains families across generations.

Because when men are cared for, whole communities thrive.

Founder, Kim Waldropt