This year is my first Father’s Day as a dad. My son will be just seven months old, too young to know why there’s a card on my bedside table or why my partner insists I don’t change nappies for a day. And yet, while I step into this new role, I’m also carrying the absence of my own dad.
Beyond everything I miss about him, what hurts most is that he never got to meet his grandson. I would give just about anything to see his enormous, room-filling smile while he plays with my little boy.
Father’s Day is meant to be a celebration, but for many, it’s complicated. Grief doesn’t pause for joy, and joy doesn’t erase grief; they coexist. I spoke to a senior lecturer in clinical psychology at the University of the Sunshine Coast, Dr Catherine Houlihan, who said, “Grief doesn’t follow a predictable pattern of emotions; instead feelings come and go in different ways as a person processes their loss.”
My first Father’s Day marks an important milestone, and while I know that grief doesn’t follow a “predictable pattern”, I can feel the emotions building to this day. So, here are the five ways I decided to honour both my son and my dad this Father’s Day.
1. Telling his stories
My dad loved a good yarn; they were half-true, half-embellished and sometimes exaggerated beyond recognition. He wrote books, he survived Cyclone Tracy, he rode a motorbike solo across the Nullarbor as a 15-year-old boy, at different points in his life he was a butcher, a baker, a candlestick maker, and his profession for more than 30 years of his life was a clown. So, there are plenty of stories to tell.
“Storytelling forms part of narrative therapy, a type of psychotherapy shown to be effective in managing symptoms of grief,” says Houlihan. So, on Father’s Day, I’ll take my son to the place we scattered his ashes and tell one of those stories out loud. My son won’t understand yet, but one day he will. Speaking Dad’s name keeps his presence alive.
2. Carrying on his traditions
Dad had small rituals that made him who he was, like putting absolutely anything he could find in the fridge on his pizza when it was his turn to cook dinner. Or the unusual tradition that he created of not eating the bottoms of ice-cream cones, as he said that would be considered “bad luck” (I haven’t eaten a single one since).
This Father’s Day, I’ll eat an ice-cream in his honour, and of course I’ll throw away the bottom. And I’ll be sure to tell my son one day that this was your poppy’s thing.
3. Creating new rituals
While I honour my father’s legacy, I also want to create new and everlasting memories with my son. This year it might be something simple, like going to our first footy game, or perhaps cooking breakfast together.
These may grow over the years, whether it is in year one, year two or when more kids start running around in our halls. Creating new rituals is a critical part of building our family unit and making lasting memories. Grief reminds me not to wait: traditions can begin now, even before he remembers them.
4. Making space for sadness
Celebrations don’t erase pain. If I need to let some emotion go on the day then I will, because this was the day we celebrated with him every year for my entire life. And then it meant something different when he passed. And now it means so much more again. It’s complex. It’s sadness. It’s happiness.
“Accepting when negative feelings arise rather than trying to push them away can help process them,” Houlihan says.
Allowing grief to sit alongside joy is the most honest way to move through this day. But instead of pretending it’s all balloons and breakfast in bed, I’ll acknowledge the reality check, pay my tribute to him with a Sprite and a jam cream doughnut, and celebrate such an incredible life and a great dad.
5. Looking forward with fondness and gratitude
Despite the ache, I feel grateful to be a dad and to have had one who taught me countless lessons worth passing on. He wore his heart on his sleeve, for better or worse, and he shaped who I am today. There’s no shortage of things to be grateful for.
Houlihan reiterates this: “Research shows gratitude can improve mental health, reduce negative emotions such as anxiety and depression, and boost positive mood.”
Grief and celebration can live on the same day. This year I’ll shed a tear, laugh with my son and remember my dad. Because being a father isn’t just about who we are now – it’s about the fathers who shaped us and the stories we carry forward.
