Tonight I sit in silence, listening to the echoes of crickets across the acres surrounding the farmhouse. I sit here searching for the right place to begin a story that presses heavily against my chest. It’s a story I want to share, not because I wish to bring anyone down on this day of celebration, but because I hope it might make your celebration even richer. That’s the heart behind these words.
I imagine an early memory that simply refuses to fade, wrapped in emotion and pride; the moment you first realized he was your dad. I imagine laughter on the swing set, encouraging words as he steadied you while you learned to ride a bicycle without training wheels. Or maybe it’s something more subtle, like noticing how much larger and stronger his hands were compared to yours. Maybe it was helping him pull off his boots after a long day of work or fetching his favorite cold drink while he rested for a few moments.
I imagine there were times when he showed you how to check the oil, top off the coolant, or jump-start a car because he knew someday you would need to know. Maybe he took the time to teach you how to change a tire in case you found yourself stranded on the side of the road. Maybe he was the one who opened that stubborn jar you couldn’t get loose, or maybe he was simply the one who always showed up when you needed him most.
Maybe he told the best bedtime stories or delivered the flattest dad jokes anyone could imagine. Maybe his greatest skill was behind the grill, creating a flavor that no matter how hard you try, you still can’t quite recreate. Maybe he was the firm hand that corrected you when you knew you were wrong. You may not have understood it then, but you see it now: that his instruction was rooted in the love he had for you.
Maybe you find those memories in moments you didn’t fully recognize at the time. Little things you miss now. Things like opening the door for your mom, setting up the swing set, or keeping the yard mowed.
Maybe it was in the quiet moments when you felt it most. Sitting together in a deer stand before sunrise. Watching a fishing line sway gently in the breeze. Maybe it was standing on a stage and catching the subtle nod of his approval after a performance. Maybe it was the glimmer of pride in his eyes that encouraged you more than a dozen volumes of words ever could.
I sit and wonder what those moments are for you, and what they might have been for me if things had been just a little different in my own life. To embrace him one more time and show him what I’ve been up to since the last time I saw him. To ask for wisdom on the decisions I still need to make. Or simply to enjoy another walk with him down a quiet country road.
Given the chance, I would set every difference aside. I would forgive every misstep. I would forget every frustration. Whatever the obstacle, whatever the disagreement, it would all seem so small if it meant I could tell him one more time:
Happy Father’s Day, Dad.
