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My father has been acting strangely since my mother passed away.

Nerdyssey October 27, 2025

Let’s talk about this:

To me, he used to be a simple man who didn’t care much about appearances. But not even a year after my mom’s death, he started trying to find another woman. His friends even dragged him to karaoke bars and introduced him to young girls there.

He’s already old, but he got easily swayed — and ended up being scammed out of a lot of money by one of those girls. My siblings and I have tried warning him, but he refuses to listen. He still seems interested in seeing that same girl again.

Then recently, one of my mom’s old acquaintances started helping my dad with his work. At first it seemed harmless, but soon she began drinking with him until late at night. I didn’t like it, so I told him to send her home. He said she was too drunk and should stay the night at our house — but I refused. I told him she should go. So he drove her home himself… and was gone for 4–5 hours.

Honestly, I don’t want a “new mom,” but my dad’s restlessness is tearing the family apart. Before he left, I even saw them leaning close and whispering to each other.

That woman has no decency — knowing he has grown-up children but still acting that way. And my father… he just doesn’t seem to care about our feelings.

I’m not a disrespectful child, but it’s really painful to see an old man with many children still behaving like this. He should know better by now.

Here’s how I see it : 

Hey, come sit with me for a moment. I want you to put the weight down for a few breaths—the anger, the confusion, the ache you’ve been carrying ever since your mom passed and your dad started acting like a stranger you have to supervise. I hear how raw this is for you. It isn’t just annoyance at an “old man behaving badly.” It’s grief stacked on grief: losing your mother, and then watching the father you knew morph into someone reckless, impulsive, and strangely unreachable. That double-loss can feel like the floor is moving under your feet.

I’m going to talk to you like a friend who loves you and also like a coach who will hand you practical tools. We’ll name the feelings, decode the psychology, and design a calm, firm plan that protects your dignity, your family, and—yes—your father’s long-term wellbeing, even when he seems determined to sabotage it. You don’t have to choose between compassion and boundaries. You can hold both.

1) What you’re really grieving (it’s bigger than “Dad and a woman”)

When you say, “He used to be simple and didn’t care about appearances… then he started chasing young women and got scammed,” you’re pointing to a deeper shock: your dad’s value system changed in front of your eyes. The man who used to anchor the house is now acting like a teenager with a credit card and no curfew. That jolts a child’s nervous system, even an adult child’s, because the roles feel inverted—you’re suddenly the parent trying to stop a parent from playing with fire.

Under anger, there’s heartbreak. Under heartbreak, there’s fear:

  • “If he can abandon judgment, can he abandon us?”
  • “If Mom’s memory couldn’t steady him, what can?”
  • “If I can’t respect him, how do I love him?”

Those questions are honest. You’re not a disrespectful child for feeling them. You’re a loyal child trying to reconcile loyalty with reality.

2) Why some fathers go “off the rails” after a spouse dies

None of this excuses harm, but it does explain the pattern. A spouse death collapses a person’s identity scaffolding—the shared routines, the mirror that says “you matter,” the daily witness to your life. In many older men, that empty space converts into:

  • Panic-avoidance: fill the silence with noise—bars, karaoke, “new friends.”
  • Dopamine chasing: after long grief, the brain craves quick hits of novelty and validation (flirting, attention, compliments).
  • Status reassurance: “Am I still desirable? Relevant? Wanted?” Young attention becomes a proof-of-life test.

It’s not romance; it’s anesthesia. And like all anesthetics, it delays pain while creating new problems—money loss, family ruptures, shame he doesn’t want to sit with, so he doubles down instead of backing down. That’s why logic alone hasn’t worked. You’ve been debating his choices; he’s protecting his anesthesia.

3) Name the three separate problems (so you can solve the right one)

You’re dealing with three interwoven issues:

  1. Grief and loneliness (root cause): He’s filling a grief-shaped hole with instant validation.
  2. Boundary violations (visible symptoms): Drinking late with a woman, disappearing for 4–5 hours, ignoring adult children’s comfort, whispering at the door like teenagers.
  3. Financial and reputational risk (real-world harm): Being scammed, encouraging exploitative “friends,” risking family assets and name.

Each layer needs a different tool:

  • Grief → empathy & replacement rituals (we’ll design these).
  • Boundaries → clear house rules + relational agreements.
  • Risk → practical safeguards (alerts, caps, witnesses, paper trails).

When we use the right tool for each problem, you stop shouting into the wind and start shaping the weather.

4) What not to do (because it secretly strengthens the behavior)

  • Don’t public-shame him. When men feel cornered, they run further into the arms of people who “don’t judge.” Humiliation hardens defensiveness.
  • Don’t attack the women directly. It feeds their sense of power (“Even his daughter is rattled by me”). Indifference is more effective than confrontation.
  • Don’t use Mom as a weapon. Honoring her is sacred; weaponizing her memory can boomerang into resentment (“You’re controlling me with the dead”).
  • Don’t threaten cut-offs you won’t enforce. Empty threats train him to ignore your words.

We’re going to replace these with steady, adult pressure—firm lines, consistent follow-through, and alternatives that keep his dignity intact while removing the oxygen from bad habits.

5) The calm talk that actually moves a stubborn father

Pick a low-drama time (no alcohol in his system, not during a conflict). Sit side-by-side at the table (less adversarial than face-to-face). Keep your voice low and even. Use this three-step frame—Past / Present / Protection:

Past (honor + context)

“Dad, I know losing Mom shattered you. It shattered me too. You were a good husband for a long time. I honor that.”

Present (facts + impact, no character assassination)

“Lately there’s been late-night drinking, private whispering, 4–5 hour disappearances, and money lost to a young woman who took advantage. I’m not insulting you; I’m describing patterns that worry me. It makes me feel like we’re losing you a second time.”

Protection (clear asks + shared goal)

“I’m not here to cage you. I’m here to keep you safe and our family’s name clean. I want us to agree on lines that protect your dignity and our home. Here’s what I’m asking…”

Then give three, not thirteen asks (people remember three):

  1. No overnight guests in the family home. Ever. If anyone is drunk, we pay a ride; we don’t host.
  2. Transparency on big spends (e.g., any transfer/gift above X requires 24 hours and a second set of eyes).
  3. Curfew or check-ins after 11 p.m. (“If you’ll be longer than an hour, text us so we don’t panic.”)

End with a dignity-preserving line:

“I’m not policing you; I’m protecting what you and Mom built. Help me protect it with you.”

You’ve now reframed from “controlling daughter vs rebellious father” to “stewards of family dignity together.”

6) The house rules (post them; normalize them)

Put simple rules on paper and tape them inside a kitchen cabinet where everyone sees them. Keep them impersonal—“house policy,” not “Dad policy”:

House Policy for Safety & Dignity

  • No overnight guests or late-night “work drinks” inside our home.
  • Alcohol stays out of the house unless it’s a family meal; no drinking with non-family in the house.
  • If someone is intoxicated, we call a ride or a family member to escort them home.
  • Major financial decisions (above ___) wait 24 hours and involve one other adult.
  • No secrets that affect the family’s safety, finances, or name.

Policies remove the “you vs me” frame. They turn it into “this is how our house works.”

7) Financial safeguards (quiet, boring, powerful)

Scammers thrive where there are no guardrails. Add them now. Do it kindly, not like a police raid.

  • Bank alerts: Set SMS/email alerts for transactions above a threshold (e.g., 5,000 baht / $200). If he balks, say, “This protects everyone—if my card is compromised, we’ll know too.”
  • Cooling-off rule: “Any gift/loan above ___ waits 24 hours.” Put it in writing. Create a habit: sleep on it.
  • Separate “fun” wallet: A prepaid card with a monthly cap for discretionary spending. When it’s used up, it’s used up.
  • Witnessed cash transfers: If money must be given (e.g., paying a helper), one other family adult witnesses and records the name, purpose, date.
  • Fraud vocabulary: Teach short phrases he can say to himself: “If it’s urgent, it’s suspect.” “If she’s angry I won’t pay now, that’s my answer.”

If he resists “control,” frame it as legacy:

“These steps protect your reputation and Mom’s memory. It’s about leaving things tidy.”

8) What to do about “that woman” (the whispering one)

Don’t wrestle her. Wrestle the situation.

  • Starve ambiguity: No private drinking inside your home. If she appears tipsy, she leaves by a ride service, never by his arm, never to your guest room. This isn’t moralizing; it’s risk management.
  • Public spaces only: If he insists on meeting, push for daytime, public locations. Predators prefer dark, private settings; move the scene to sunlight.
  • Company, not intimacy: Suggest a third presence (a sibling, a cousin) “to help with paperwork.” It breaks the dyad without a fight.

If she’s overtly exploitative, you can hold one boundary sentence should you ever have to speak to her:

“Our family doesn’t host private drinking or money requests. We’ll keep everything in daylight.”

Then disengage. You’re not her mother; you’re your mother’s daughter.

9) Redirect the real need (loneliness) toward safer channels

You can’t just say “no.” Brains need a “yes” to move toward. Replace his dopamine supply:

  • Grief group / widowers circle: He needs men who’ve walked this valley. If he hates the word “support group,” call it “coffee mornings” or “men’s breakfast.”
  • Structured roles: Ask him to mentor a younger guy in a practical skill. Men heal through usefulness.
  • Weekly family ritual: A set dinner, a small Sunday outing, a photo project about Mom. Ritual fills the lonely hours on purpose.
  • Healthy novelty: New class, gardening club, line dancing, fishing—anything with routine faces and minimal predation risk.

Script to invite him:

“Dad, I miss you. Come be with us on Wednesdays. You’re not a burden—you’re the hearth.”

You’re not infantilizing him; you’re replacing quick thrills with steady belonging.

10) Sibling strategy: unified, gentle pressure

If you have siblings, align privately. One loving voice can be dismissed as “nagging”; three calm voices become reality.

  • One spokesperson per week: Avoid dog-piles. Rotate who checks in so he doesn’t feel surrounded.
  • One channel for money issues: Create a shared doc to log concerning spends or events, so you respond with facts, not rumors.
  • No triangulation: Don’t let him play you against each other (“Your brother said it’s fine”). Agree on the same phrases.

Unified love is quiet power.

11) When he disappears for hours (the 4–5 hour vanishing act)

  • Drop the debates. Implement a Safety Check Protocol:
  • If he’s out past ___, one text: “Checking you got home safe.”
  • If no reply after 30–60 minutes, call twice. If still nothing, escalate to a designated friend/neighbor to check in.

    • When he returns, no shouting. Use the “impact + request” formula:

      Impact: “When hours pass with no message, our stomachs drop and we can’t sleep.”
    • Request: “Please send a photo or brief call next time. It takes 10 seconds and saves us 10,000 heartbeats.”

Frame it as care, not control.

12) If he was financially scammed once, expect a second attempt

Scammers often return; they assume shame will keep the victim silent. Preempt it.

  • Normalize reporting: “Dad, if anyone pressures you for money, even if you gave before, tell us. You won’t be in trouble. Silence is how they win.”
  • Code word: Create a family code like “Blue folder.” If he texts it, it means “Call me now; someone’s asking for money.”
  • Bank partner: Ask his bank about elder-fraud safeguards (spending alerts, step-up verification for transfers, in-branch notes to flag unusual withdrawals).

Make it easy for him to do the right thing.

13) The grief talk (the one he actually needs but won’t ask for)

Most men won’t say “I’m lonely.” They’ll say “Stop nagging.” So say it for him—gently:

“Dad, Mom’s absence is a room with no furniture. I know you’re trying to fill it with noise and faces. But not everyone who smiles is safe. I’m asking you to fill the room with family and real friends, not people who charge rent from your heart and wallet. I want you alive, respected, and proud of your choices ten years from now.”

That’s not scolding; it’s vision-casting. Give him a future he can imagine.

14) If he explodes (“It’s my life!”)

Expect a pushback; boundary setting often triggers it. Stay steady:

  • Agree with the principle, reassert the line:

    • “You’re right; it is your life. And this is our home and our name. We’re setting house rules that keep both safe.”
  • Refuse the bait of disrespect:
    • “I won’t yell. Let’s pause. We’ll try again tomorrow.”
  • End with love, not a lecture:
    • “I love you. That’s why I’m brave enough to be unpopular right now.”

Consistency trains nervous systems. Yours and his.

15) Your internal boundary (so you don’t drown in this)

You can love him without volunteering to be emotionally destroyed by him. Three self-protections:

  1. Limit rumination windows: Give yourself 15 minutes to vent/journal, then close the page and re-enter your life.
  2. Anchor rituals: A daily walk, tea at dusk, a candle for Mom—let your body feel held by something predictable.
  3. Permission to step back: If he chooses chaos, you’re allowed to reduce contact for a season. “Dad, I’m taking a little space. I’m here when you want to talk about safety and respect.”

Self-abandonment won’t save him. It will only lose you.

16) A letter you could read or hand to him (gentle, strong, undramatic)

Dad,
Losing Mom broke something in all of us. I know you miss being seen, wanted, and laughed with. I miss it too.

I’m not against you finding companionship. I’m against people using your loneliness to take your money, your time, or our family’s name. When you drink late, whisper at doors, or disappear for hours, it hurts me and confuses me. It makes me feel like I’m losing you again, a little more each week.

Here’s what I’m asking so we can move forward with peace:
– No private drinking or overnight guests in our home.
– A quick check-in if you’ll be late, so we don’t sit awake imagining the worst.
– A 24-hour pause before any big gifts or transfers; let’s look at it together.

I’m not your warden; I’m your daughter. I want to protect what you and Mom built—your dignity included. Please meet me halfway. If you do, you’ll not only keep me; you’ll keep my respect.

I love you. And I want us both to be proud of the next chapter.

Short. Plain. Unemotional. It lands.

17) If he continues anyway (the “accept and contain” phase)

Sometimes, despite our best efforts, a parent chooses the hard road. Then you shift from change to contain:

  • Keep house rules non-negotiable (what happens in your home is your domain).
  • Keep financial guardrails—alerts, caps—quietly in place where possible.
  • Stop chasing explanations. Reduce exposure to details that shred you.
  • Invest in your own life: friendships, work, joy. You’re allowed to be happy even when he’s making unwise choices.

Loving an adult means tolerating some consequences you cannot prevent. It’s not abandonment; it’s reality.

18) A word about your mother’s place in all this

You don’t have to accept a “new mom.” That’s not the ask. The ask is: can you hold space for your father’s humanity without letting his humanity trample your home?

Honor your mom in the ways that are yours to keep—photos, recipes, stories, rituals. Say her name. Tell her stories to the next generation. You can keep her presence alive without making her a weapon in current fights. Grief is love with nowhere to go; give it places to go.

19) What healing could look like over the next months

It won’t be linear. Expect this shape:

  • Month 1–2: Resistance, some improvements, then a relapse. You keep the rules. You redirect. You don’t escalate.
  • Month 3–4: He starts feeling the emptiness without the old thrills; if you’ve offered better replacements (family dinners, men’s groups, projects), he may bite.
  • Month 5+: Either he settles into steadier rhythms, or he doubles down with the wrong crowd. If the latter, you tighten the containments and energetically turn toward your life, not his drama.

Your steadiness is the lighthouse, not the tugboat. Don’t tow his ship. Light the coast and let him steer.

20) For the nights you can’t sleep (a few sentences to borrow)

  • “I can love him and still say no to chaos.”
  • “I’m not punishing him; I’m protecting the home.”
  • “His loneliness is real. So is the risk. I can address both.”
  • “I will not let strangers rewrite my family’s dignity.”
  • “I’m my mother’s child. I carry her strength, not her silence.”

Say them out loud. Let your body hear you.

A gentle recap you can screenshot

  • Your feelings aren’t disrespect; they’re grief guarding love.
  • His behavior isn’t romance; it’s anesthesia for loneliness (with financial and reputational risks).
  • Solve the right layer: grief (empathy/ritual), boundaries (house rules), risk (safeguards).
  • Use Past/Present/Protection language; offer three clear asks.
  • Don’t feed the other woman with attention—move scenes to daylight and third spaces.
  • Replace bad dopamine with good belonging (family ritual, men’s groups, useful roles).
  • Align siblings; facts over drama; one spokesperson at a time.
  • Create practical guardrails: alerts, cooling-off rules, witnessed transfers.
  • If he chooses chaos, switch from change to contain—and keep your own life bright.

You are not a disrespectful child. You are a daughter standing in a doorway with one hand on your father’s shoulder and the other on the frame of the home your mother built, insisting that what was sacred stays sacred. That is love. It’s not loud. It’s not always pretty. But it is love—the grown kind, the kind that says, “I will be brave enough to tell the truth, and soft enough to remember why.”

Whatever he chooses next, keep choosing your steadiness. Keep choosing your dignity. Keep choosing the kind of family culture you’d want your mother to recognize if she walked through the door right now.

And when you get tired, come back here. Breathe with me. Light a candle for her. Then turn back to the living, with your shoulders down and your voice calm, and say the lines that guard what matters. You’ve got more strength than you think. And you’re not alone. 💛

#DramoCiety #FamilyHealing #GrievingParent #FatherAfterLoss #LonelinessAndAging #FamilyPsychology #LoveAndBoundaries #HealingAfterLoss

All entries on DramoCiety are for reflective and educational purposes only. They are not personal or therapeutic advice.

Nerdyssey

Posted by Nerdyssey

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