Father’s Day has always been bittersweet for mi. It’s never been about the Hallmark moments. There were no “Dad, you were my guiding star, my rock”
memories in which to reflect.
I didn’t grow up with the kind of father who grilled my dates,
took mi for ice cream after a heartbreak, taught mi how to drive,
or told mi I could be anything I wanted.
For most of my life, it was my mother who wore the hats of protector and provider,
nurturer and disciplinarian,
mentor, and mediator.
That’s where I get my strength.
My grit.
I didn’t meet my birth father until my late teens, and for years, distance and separate lives made us little more than pen pals. When we did connect, it often felt strained, like I was a figure from his past rather than his daughter. It wasn’t until we each had children close in age that we found a bond, something relatable, beyond shared blood.
He’s gone now.
And while Father’s Day still carries a bittersweet taste, I’m grateful for the connection my father and I eventually found.
It wasn’t until my sixties that I discovered he’d ever felt even the slightest bit proud of mi.
So, as Father’s Day approaches, I find myself reflecting—
not just on fathers,
but on dads…
Anyone can be a father,
but it takes someone extraordinary to be a dad – (not to disregard single moms stepping into that role for whatever reason).
I’m talking about dad’s like my son, a single father figuring it all out—learning to braid curly hair and mastering the crooked ponytail on a wiggling autistic 7-year-old girl and playing catch with his 10-year-old son until his arm nearly falls off, after working a long and grueling shift in retail.
Dads like my son-in-law, who stepped into fatherhood with open arms, welcoming a woman with two children while she carried a surrogate baby, later adding a child of their own to create the most beautifully blended family. Although he works from sunup to sundown, he still finds time for dress-up tea parties, painted fingernails, pinewood derby cars, and family outings.
Dads like my husband and ex-husband, my brother, and brother-in-law, stepfathers who choose to show up, who open their homes, hearts, and arms to the children and grandchildren they’ve acquired through love, not biology.
Those men who love without condition.
Single fathers, like my stepson who works a demanding full time job, is renovating his house on his off time and still manages to show up daily 100% for his son.
These are the fathers I salute on Father’s Day.
They are the ones whose actions teach far more than words ever could.
Whose strength lies in presence.
Whose love has become the foundation on which their families stand.
Today, I honor these men.
Dads by love, dads by choice,
the most extraordinary men
turned by love into heroes.
© c. michelle bryant griffin
