An Ode to Fatherhood: For the Fathers We Have, Had, or Never Knew

Happy Father’s Day to all who hold that title by blood, by choice, or by spirit.

This is one of those bittersweet days for me. My dad has been gone for quite some time, and while this isn’t meant to be another tribute to him (I shared one of those recently on LinkedIn), his presence is hard to ignore today.

I never had the chance to become a father. Technically, that’s not true—I did have the opportunity. But as life often does, it took a turn, and the child didn’t make it to term. The details aren’t what matters here. What matters is that I’m not alone. There are many men whose stories echo mine. And many more whose stories look very different; some never knew their father. Some wish they hadn’t.

Not all fathers are heroes. And not all Father’s Days are joyful.

But that doesn’t mean the day has to be somber.

If you’re lucky enough to have a great dad who’s still around, your mission is simple: make the day a good one for him, whatever that looks like. For most of the dads I know, that’s usually something low-key. A meal. A nap. A break from life’s endless to-do list.

If your dad is gone but left you with good memories, honor him in your own way. For me, that usually means a quiet walk, reflecting on the later years when he and I truly bonded. Certain things still bring him back, like the smell of diesel fuel or a burgundy-colored truck. That was his favorite color, and he'd remind me every chance he could.

It’s always the little things that make me smile.

One memory always stands out. We used to go fishing in Canada every summer. One year, as we arrived, my dad looked at the dock hands and commented, “They look older this year.” No one responded, so I quipped, “Yeah, well, time does that to young men.” He grinned.

That same trip, I was trying to catch Olympic highlights on a crackly radio at the lodge. My dad walked up and asked, “How’s the hockey team doing?” I replied, “Probably enjoying their offseason since hockey isn’t part of the Summer Olympics.” He laughed, and we laughed about that for years afterward. He was always a good sport.

If your relationship with your father was painful or nonexistent, I still believe today can be a celebration—a celebration of your existence. Whatever your origin story, you’re here. And that matters. Maybe treat yourself. Give thanks to the universe, or whatever you believe in, for your time here.

And if you are a dad, chances are you’re one of the good ones. Because let’s be honest, crappy people don’t tend to read this blog.

So wherever this day finds you; celebrating, reflecting, grieving, or somewhere in between—I hope it brings a moment of peace.

Happy Father’s Day.