Celebrating good fathering
A few nights ago, I was walking in the dark, back to bed after letting the dog out. Before going into my room, I stopped in front of my dad’s photo in the living room. I bent my knees until I was at eye level with his picture, which sits between a small vase of flowers and a candle. I placed my hands one on top of the other on the table, and rested my chin on them.
Settled in a comfortable enough squat, I looked into his smiling eyes and allowed my tears to spill from my own.
“You were a good dad.” I said.
And I can honestly say to you that he was a good dad–I see the evidence of his efforts scattered throughout countless moments of my life, every day.
As imperfect as my dad was, it isn’t difficult for me to say that he was a good one. He cared deeply for us, and his commitment to our wellbeing was clear to anyone within or outside of our family.
But even those of us who can say that we had great dads, did not necessarily receive good fathering.
And conversely, there are many people who do not feel that they had a good dad–or simply do not feel that they had a dad at all–but in many ways and from unexpected sources, received good fathering nonetheless.
When I mention good fathering, I’m referring to true caregiving, where a father assumes his responsibility to continuously invite his child to close relationship, and foster the conditions for connection. I’m talking about a dad being committed to the lifelong journey of growing his capacity to be truly present with his child in a way where that child feels seen, known and delighted in for their very existence.
I want us to acknowledge how much this kind of fathering matters, because if you are a dad doing the good work of healing yourself–in order to do the real work of parenting–this is no small feat or matter.
I know how hard the work of healing while parenting can be, and how important it is to your child’s wellbeing. I want to give you props this Father’s Day for choosing this path, and encourage you to keep going and get all of the support that you will need in order to make this most precious endeavor sustainable.
Another reason why I want us to recognize how much good fathering matters today, is that in doing so we can also acknowledge what it means to not receive good fathering.
Now let me be first say that I do not believe that children who grow up without their dads can’t have meaningful, fulfilling and happy lives. In fact, I know first-hand many who do. I also know that just one good, well-supported caregiver is all it takes for any child to develop a strong sense of self worth and belonging in the world.
But for the many children who do grow up with their dads in their lives–I believe that it is only natural that they will look towards their fathers for good leadership, accountability and emotional connection, and that it hurts when they are met with a lack of these. And those hurts, need to be recognized and attended to.
Tragically, we live in a patriarchal culture that has primed us to give dads a pass when it comes to the work of caregiving. As you well know, good caregiving requires self-reflection, intention, listening, healing and frequent acts of accountability. These crucial elements of caregiving are attributed by default to women and mothers, placing a heavy an unsustainable burden on us. And in the misogynistic context of the patriarchy, the skills and work that go into good caregiving are therefore deemed inferior along with the status of the women they are assigned to. It takes a concerted effort to go against this social grain and acknowledge that men are just as responsible for the caregiving of their children, as are the women that society has assigned this work to. And it takes an ongoing commitment to the work of healing, unlearning and living into new ways of fathering in order to actually turn that awareness into closer and healthier relationships.
As a society, we need to stop normalizing and expecting children or other caregivers to pick up the slack for what children need emotionally–but do not receive enough of–from their dads.
If our dads are around, we need good fathering from them–and we need to stop acting like we don’t.
Even our own ability to parent well requires us to acknowledge that it is unacceptable when good fathering doesn’t happen.
Because when we name it, we can see where we have some healing to do for the fathering we needed, but didn’t get. We can extend the very necessary gentleness to ourselves and other children, big or small, who didn’t or aren't getting the good fathering they need.
In addition, it's not only the kids who feel it when a father can't parent well. The dad misses out too.
It was only in the context of the closeness that my dad and I experienced in his final years (which coincidentally, or not, occurred after years of both of us actively tending to our own healing) that we were able to grieve the relationship that we both had missed out on in my childhood, teen and early adult years.
You see, while he had drastically broken the cycles of extreme paternal absence, abuse and neglect that he came from–my dad still didn’t father me well in many important ways, for most of my life. As he once told me, he had many points of reference for what not to do as a dad, but no point of reference for how to be a good one.
My only memories of us laughing together, listening to each other, genuinely exchanging stories from our hearts, repairing the ruptures in our relationship, and being able to appreciate and enjoy each others’ presence, are limited to his final years. I have immense gratitude for the precious time that I did get to spend with him in a connected way, and I also wish for both of us that this had also been the case throughout my childhood.
Father’s day is marketed as a simple thing in our culture. Commercials tell us that this is a day to thank him for “always being there” with a hardware, electronic or otherwise “manly” gift. And of course, this is the day when so many announce on social media that theirs is “the best” dad.
But I suspect that for most people, Father’s Day is much more of a mixed bag.
A day that brings up myriad feelings and questions. About your own dad, or other dads you know, or your children’s dad, or yourself as a dad…all that is there, all that has ceased to be, and all that never was.
Every Father’s Day with my dad was different, because our story together was always changing. This will be the second since he passed away in December of 2023.
Another change in our story together. But our story surely continues.
Wherever your story with fatherhood is at today, I wish you healing for the wounds, and joy for what there is to celebrate. Whatever those things may mean for you.