In the Living Years

I marvel daily at a friend of mine who loves his boys like crazy. He had what he describes as an “old school” relationship with his own father, where a dad was the disciplinarian and the provider, emotionally aloof and somewhat removed. As a result, their relationship growing up was strained. A lot went unsaid, and they hardly saw eye to eye.

Yet, his best memories of his father are surprisingly tender, with fishing trips, small moments of teaching, and silent lessons on responsibility. They weren’t overt teaching moments, but rather times of witnessing, watching how his father loved his mother and provided for the family. It wasn’t a relationship built on hugs, hair-tousling, or pats on the back, but when he looks back, he knows his father loved him. He loved him in the way he showed up for his family.

Today, that same man has raised his own sons with so much affection and presence, almost to a fault. There’s not a day he doesn’t call or text them just to say “I love you.” One of the most difficult choices he’s made is to stay in a loveless, emotionally abusive relationship with their mother, because he wants to show his boys what commitment and sacrifice for family looks like.

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One of his deepest regrets is not making peace with his father in the living years, not having the chance to tell him what an incredible father he turned out to be, or him to see and witness the fine men his grandsons are becoming.

My experience with fatherhood is quite

different. My father is a man of affection and quiet strength. I can go to him anytime, about anything. He is my rock. A praying man of God who loves my mother and all his children equally and without condition. He  shows us his love daily, in deeds, words, and affection. In his quiet, humble way, he has been a shining example of what fatherhood looks like for my brothers, nephews, and mostly for my sons who grew up with him. Through him, they’ve learned what it means to be a man who provides and protects, but also who leads with empathy and love.

Then there’s me the only single mother in my immediate family who literally leaned on the village. My father, my brothers, my godfather, and male friends have all played a role in being steady male figures for my sons. Even the friend I spoke of earlier has become someone my boys admire and lean on

in their living years. Their relationship with their biological father hasn’t always been constant or involved in the day-to-day—but he, too, has contributed in his own way to the men they are becoming, by how he shows up for his new family.

So whatever role your dad, or any father figure, plays in your life, we salute you today.

To all the fathers, brothers, uncles, godfathers, grandfathers, mentors, teachers, and community role models: Happy Father’s Day.

Keep showing up. Keep rocking up. Keep manning up with soul and intention. We need good men now more than ever, in these living years. You play a vital role in your family, your community, and in society at large.

Because fatherhood isn’t just about being a “dad.”

It’s a calling.

It’s a commitment.

And it’s a lifeline.

A father can be biological or adoptive. A social father, someone who steps up with love and guidance, can impact generations. And in a world so desperate for good men, your presence has the power to rewrite stories.

So continue to love without boundaries.

Mentor the child without a present father.

Offer compassion, wisdom, and protection to those watching and learning from you.

You are the key to healing fractured families, rebuilding trust, and breaking cycles of violence, addiction, and absence. Fatherhood is not just worth celebrating—it’s a solution.

So I’m saying it loud, and saying it clear:

Happy Father’s Day.

To my own Dad; thank you. You are every bit the man God intended you to be. I love you.

To my brothers and every male friend who shows up for my sons: take a bow. You deserve every bit of celebration for showing up and being active examples of FATHERHOOD.