A Complicated Day
Father’s Day has always been complicated for me. I didn’t have a traditional dad at home like all the other kids. The man I share genetic material with has never been a part of my life. He never did anything to earn the name “dad.” This day was never about him. For most of my youth, “traditional fatherhood” was the image pushed on this day, and I always felt left out. While I didn’t have a traditional father, I was blessed to have 3 dads during my life: my grandpa, my Uncle Willie, and my stepdad (Tom). All three of these men filled different aspects of the dad role in my life. Now, all of these men have died, and Father’s Day is another type of complicated.
Thank you to all the men who served as a “dad” to any kid. Thank you to the grandfathers, uncles, boyfriends, male friends, step-fathers, and neighbors who filled the “dad” needs for the children in their lives. To all the men who taught a kid to ride a bike, showed up at 2am to help in an emergency, drove across the state to find the perfect gift, held them while they cried, and showed a child they were loved unconditionally: you are dads too. Fatherhood doesn’t just mean you fertilize an egg. It means you showed up for a child day in and day out. It means you did the work to help that child grow up loved, supported, and valued. To all the men who were fathers in action and not genetics, this day is for you too.
To all the people who have a complicated Father’s Day: I see you. You are not alone. Celebrate the men who served as dads in your life, even if they aren’t listed on your birth certificate. Stay off social media if it pains you to see all the happy photos of dads with their kids. It’s ok if you cry for the dad who has died or the dad you never had. Let the tears roll. Don’t be ashamed or embarrassed because this day is hard for you.
Wishing everyone a Happy Father’s Day, no matter what type of day you have.
Images from top to bottom:
My grandpa and I at my first birthday.
My Uncle Willie and I at my 8th-grade graduation.
My stepfather, Tom, and I at my high school graduation.