Mac and Bruce Mullen
“Across cultures there are traditions that help define our journeys– Quinceañeras, Vision Quests, you name it, rites of passages are an important function for society. They signify life milestones and moments, the transformative times where we ‘become something’. Become a man, a woman, an adult etc. We are all told to become something one day, and most of us are shepherded into the roles without warning. To me, the definition of ‘becoming’ is lost. In my perspective, growth often begins out of loss. Oftentimes, these transformative periods are viewed in a negative light- death, failure, loss for example. Instead, it could be something celebrated in line with the idea of rebirth.”
Mac Mullen was 25 when he lost his father, Bruce Gordon Mullen to Parkinson’s.
When asked to describe his father, Mac told me that he was a funny guy, a great storyteller. His dad’s humor and ability to connect through stories is the biggest thing that he took from him. He was kind, emotional and passionate. He believed in focused dedication to a select few things at a time, so that you could focus on being exemplary. He always went out to provide value, tirelessly working, a relentless person, someone who loved getting things done. “Focus is something that I have struggled with throughout my life… and my dad served as a guide in those instances when I required those things. In person and post mortem…”
When Bruce’s health began to decline, Mac spent time bouncing between Los Angeles where he was starting his professional career, and Tennessee where his father was living. During our conversation, at this moment, I put myself in Mac’s shoes. Also beginning my career at the same time (Mac and I graduated from University of Oregon the same year), the thought of traveling across the country to care for a sick parent is almost unfathomable. But Mac did it. He had to. He recalls when he became hyper aware of what was happening: “It was strange for me, at the end of my time with my dad, to act as his caretaker, where I became obviously aware that I was acting in a fatherly way to my father.”
Mac told me about when he knew that his father didn’t have much time left, he planned a trip back to Tennessee during the holidays. During this trip, it was important for the two to spend quality time together doing something they always loved doing together: playing golf. Of course given Bruce’s health challenges, it wasn’t going to be easy. Mac told me about how for weeks, he led his dad through stretches and strength building exercises with the goal in mind to play a few holes of golf together at the end of the week. Sure enough, they rented a cart, put their clubs in the back and teed off. Bruce was able to stand up out of his wheelchair and hit a few shots during their round, which is incredible in itself. Even when he fell over, which happened more than once, he got back up and tried again. Toward the end of the round, Mac told me about how Bruce took over driving the cart, and they took a “joy ride” throughout the course, laughing together as the cart took bumps and turns throughout the path. Mac recalled feeling like a little kid, sitting next to his best friend.
When I asked Mac what that round of golf meant to him, he told me “you never know when something is going to happen. I was afforded an opportunity and don’t have to live in regret. I decided I can start making choices to maximize the time that I have left… It’s weird to say I'm thankful for how things went, but in that process of caring for him, I went from son to best friend to father, and you can't buy that.”
This was the breakthrough in our conversation and I even asked Mac to say it outloud a couple more times. “I went from son, to best friend, to father.” In the last months of his time with his dad, Mac grew from a son, to a best friend into a father figure for his own father. Mac told me that he will never forget how he was able to be there for his dad in ways that his dad was there for him. “I was able to do things for him that he would have done for me as a father.”
I’m incredibly moved by this realization Mac had during his grieving. The concept of becoming a parent to your own parent, because of their sacrifice to you is beautiful and tragic at the same time. And it can be both, it should be both.
Most children have to care for their parents at some point in life, and it usually happens on the “standard” timeline. You are middle aged(ish), possibly with your own family, and you help your parents when they are closer to the end of their life. That is expected. It’s what we have been shown in media since the invention of story. Mac had to fast forward, bridging a gap from college graduation to this caregiving title in his early 20’s. Mac is not alone in this reality, unfortunately. Data from the 2021 US Government Census tells us that 4.3% of children ages 0-17 have lost at least one parent, compared to 11.5% of 18- to 29-year-olds and 23.4% of 30- to 39-year-olds.
The point here is that it is much more common than anyone wants to admit. I asked Mac how losing his father has affected him today. “I don’t put pressure on the small stuff. Big picture thinking will take you far, especially in relationships. Time is fleeting, don't waste it…Professionally, I don't get as frustrated as I used to. Something at work should and hopefully will never frustrate or affect me in ways that I felt when I had to make life or death decisions for my dad during the last few days of his life.” I asked Mac what he would tell someone who is experiencing the loss of a parent before they thought they should. “Talk about it. Don’t feel embarrassed or weird for feeling the way you feel. Don’t be afraid to turn your loss into a helping hand for someone else either.” I loved that last part, because it is exactly what Mac is doing by sharing his story.
Every year on June 5th, Bruce’s birthday, Mac tries to get out for a round of golf. It is a way to reconnect with his father and remember one of their favorite ways to spend time together.
Thank you for sharing your story, Mac and Bruce.
