The Story of Three Men and Their Babies - A Non-Fictional Short Story By Rob MacArthur
The recent passing of Scott Crawford and Bruce Hyde has left me grappling with a profound sense of loss. We were more than just friends—we were brothers, bound by the shared experience of raising our children as custodial fathers. Now, with my closest companions gone, I feel a deep responsibility to tell our story, to honor the legacy they left behind. I would be remiss if I didn't also mention my friend Gary Melko, who passed in the early 2000's. He was the OG of single custodial dads that I became friends with the first time I became a single custodial dad back in the eighties. Dads becoming the single custodial parent was a rarity back in the 80's and 90's. I was blessed to be able to find these men that helped me through my journey.
A Brotherhood Forged in Fatherhood
Our connection began with a common bond: single custodial fatherhood, a role that brought us together during some of the most challenging times of our lives. I was the youngest of our trio, raising four boys: Josh, Ben, Zach, and Luke. Scott, the next oldest, was navigating life as a full-time dad to his two daughters, Ashley and Melody, while also sharing custody of his son Christopher. Bruce, the eldest, was raising three daughters: Jennifer, Julie, and Joanne. Together, we raised ten children, and today, our family has grown to include twenty-two grandchildren—a testament to the love, dedication, and sacrifices we made as fathers.
Back in the mid-1990s, our unique situation as single custodial fathers garnered attention, leading to a feature in Durham Parent, a local publication. At that time, I was juggling the demands of full custody for three of my boys and shared custody of the youngest. I often spoke with a mix of pride and exhaustion about the demands of being a full-time dad. “When people hear ‘single dad,’ they think I’m just the weekend guy,” I would say. “But I’m the one packing lunches, helping with homework, and making sure they get to soccer practice on time.”
Scott Crawford, the newest single custodial dad of our trio, was still finding his footing in his new role. Scott and I crossed paths in Ajax, Ontario, where we both worked, and our shared experiences and growing friendship eventually led to a remarkable decision: to combine our families and share a home for a few years. Together, we raised our six children under one roof, a chapter filled with laughter, chaos, and countless lessons learned. We often joked that our time living together would make a great situation comedy, filled with enough material to entertain and inspire.
Living together strengthened the bond between Scott and me. We found solace in sharing the workload and the emotional toll of being full-time custodial dads. “We weren’t just supporting each other; we were surviving together,” I would often recall. “It wasn’t easy, but having someone who understood what you were going through made all the difference.”
Bruce Hyde, the veteran of our group, brought a wealth of experience, having raised his daughters on his own since they were little. His calm demeanor and pragmatic approach earned him our respect. Bruce and I initially met through the One Parent Family Association, where we bonded over our shared experiences as single parents. His business acumen and passion for sports led us to spend countless hours discussing business ideas, playing tennis and volleyball, and even attempting white water rafting.
A Life Beyond Parenting
Our connection to each other extended beyond our roles as fathers. We shared passions that deepened our bond and brought us even closer together. Scott and I had a connection through music and politics. We would spend many nights playing our guitars and singing, often writing our own songs. Scott was also a councillor in the town of Ajax for over twenty years, and I would help him with his campaigns. Our mutual love of music and shared political interests created a special bond between us.
Bruce and I connected through business and sports. Bruce had a great business mind, and we would often talk about business ideas, always bouncing thoughts off each other. We also spent many times playing tennis, volleyball, and billiards, challenging each other in friendly competition. These activities, along with our shared experiences as fathers, solidified a friendship that stood the test of time.
We also loved to go out together singing karaoke. Sometimes we would sing as individuals, sometimes in duets, and sometimes as a trio. There were many times that all three of us were not available to go out, so two of us would go instead. Scott was a classic rocker who loved to croon. Bruce was definitely a crooner. I was a country boy who also liked the oldies. These karaoke nights were a source of great joy and camaraderie for us, a chance to unwind and share our love of music.
The Challenges and Triumphs of Single Fatherhood
As single custodial fathers, we faced unique challenges, especially when it came to relationships. Interestingly, whenever one of us was in a good relationship, the others would hear from that person less frequently. It was an unspoken but understood part of our friendship. We were fine with this arrangement because the happiness of our friends was more important than constant contact. “We knew that if one of us was happy and busy with a partner, it was a good thing,” I would say. “We were just glad to see each other thriving, even if it meant less frequent check-ins.”
Scott often voiced a belief that statistically, only two out of the three of us could end up in good relationships. He felt that the demands and stresses of our lives would make lasting, loving partnerships a challenge. Ironically, however, when all three of us were alive, we each enjoyed strong, loving, and caring relationships with our partners.
We often discussed the impact our custody roles had on our children, particularly the absence of a mother figure. The conversation often turned serious when we talked about this concern, which loomed large over us all. Bruce, ever the realist, would acknowledge the difficulty of this situation, while Scott and I would share our own worries. None of us received child support, a decision rooted in a mix of pride and fear. We worried that asking for financial help might prompt our ex-wives to reconsider the custody arrangements, a risk we couldn’t afford to take.
But despite the challenges, the sleepless nights, and the sacrifices to our personal lives and careers, none of us regretted our decision to raise our children. We were fathers first and foremost, and the bond we forged with our kids was something we cherished deeply.
A Legacy of Friendship and Fatherhood
For years, we phoned or messaged each other not only to say Happy Fathers Day but also to wish each other a Happy Mothers Day—a nod to the dual roles we had taken on in our children’s lives. These gestures of acknowledgment and appreciation were just one more way we stayed connected and supported one another through the highs and lows of single fatherhood.
In time, each of us found love and companionship again. I met Lorraine, whose own children, Jamie and TJ, became part of my growing family. Our blended household thrived, and I finally felt the balance and partnership I had long sought. Bruce married Angela, a woman who embraced his daughters as her own and brought stability and joy to their lives. And Scott found his soulmate in Tiffany, who added her own children, Josh and Anne, to their family. Together, they created a loving, supportive environment where all the children thrived.
The Final Chapters
Recently, the news that changed everything struck. Both Bruce and Scott passed away, leaving me as the last remaining member of our brotherhood. The loss was devastating, not only for me but for the children we had all raised together. The memories of our shared struggles and unwavering dedication to our kids now take on an even deeper significance.
Although Scott and I would message each other regularly, one of the last times I saw Scott was when my mother passed in August of 2023, and he and our good friend Derek Sharp came to her celebration of life in Kingston, Ontario. The very last time I saw him was at a fantasy hockey league draft in the fall of 2023. Scott passed peacefully in his sleep just before his 64th birthday in March 2024.
Bruce and I also messaged each other regularly, but we hadn’t seen each other since before COVID. I found out he was diagnosed with lung cancer in May of 2024, and we messaged a lot more after that. Since he lived almost three hours away, seeing each other was difficult to arrange. Bruce was aggressively fighting the cancer, but it just wasn’t in the cards. His last few weeks of life were spent heavily sedated. Somehow, though, two days before he passed, he sent me this message: “The clock is running out faster than I anticipated. Life unfortunately didn’t let us have more time together. I’ve valued your friendship, brother. Hold on to memories and party on. Win CGT! I’m in palliative care for end of life now. I’m zoned out most of the time on strong meds...” I sent him a reply with my goodbye, and his wife Angela read it to him. Bruce passed peacefully with his family by his side in July of 2024.
The Lasting Impact of Our Lives
The lasting impact of our lives extends beyond our immediate families. In Bruce's memory, the Hyde family is having a bench with a plaque in his honor placed at Centennial Park in Pelham, Ontario. It will be situated outside the pickleball court, a fitting tribute to the man who was instrumental in founding the pickleball masters division locally.
Meanwhile, Scott’s family and I are working to establish a lasting tribute to Scott as well. Despite facing challenges with council and resident support, we are determined to have a park named after Scott in the ward of Ajax where he served as a councillor for over twenty years and spent countless hours as a dedicated parent. This park will stand as a testament to Scott’s deep connection with his community and his enduring commitment to his family
As I continue to navigate the challenges of life, I carry with me the lessons and love of my two closest friends. I remain grateful for the time we spent together, for the bond we formed, and for the unbreakable connection we shared through fatherhood, music, politics, sports, and friendship.
Though they are no longer with me, the legacy of Scott Crawford and Bruce Hyde lives on through our children, our grandchildren, and the lasting memories we created together.
Our story is one of resilience, brotherhood, and the unwavering love of fathers for their children. And in that, there is a comfort that endures, even in the face of loss.
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This story is copyright of Robert MacArthur and the families of Scott Crawford and Bruce Hyde.
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