The Fathers Who Leave Their Mark

Father's Day always carries a little melancholy for me.

This year marks my 23rd Father's Day without my dad.

He wasn't a perfect dad.

He wasn't the “World's Greatest Dad” coffee mug dad.

At least not every day.

But many of the memories I choose to hold onto remind me of the times he was a great dad.

• I was the only one of four kids who would get up at the crack of stupid on our family vacations to go fishing with him. Hours of silence broken only by the gentle lapping of the water against the bottom of the boat, or the occasional swearing when I hooked a huge rock or clump of seaweed.

• He taught me to drive. I don't know if I've ever met a more patient man. He stayed remarkably calm even when I was begging him to let me pull over so he could take over.

• He's the one who nicknamed me "Bindles." It started with Bindles Bundles, and to this day I never found out if that was because I was adorable or just chubby.

• He walked me down the aisle and gave a heartfelt toast at my wedding. For all the worrying I did in the days leading up to it that he would do or say something embarrassing, I remember feeling nothing but pride, happiness, and a little guilt for having worried so much in the first place.

Although he passed away when my kids were only 10 and 12, he gave them so many Grampa memories: camping trips, colouring contests, family celebrations, and countless moments in between. I'm grateful they had that time with him.

I don't remember him teaching me life lessons.

But maybe he taught me something anyway.

The older I get, the more I realize that not every parent leaves their mark through advice or wisdom.

Some leave it through patience.

Through showing up.

Through being there for the moments that mattered.

And suddenly:

• fishing matters

• driving lessons matter

• the nickname matters.

After losing my dad, I was fortunate enough to encounter other fathers who left their mark as well.

Greg's dad was always there for us, regardless of the problem we dropped at his feet. I valued his wisdom, was continually amazed by his generosity, and admired his ability to find joy in almost any situation. Most of all, I'll always be grateful for the love he showered upon our kids as their Opa.

Keith's dad raised the man I fell in love with. He taught him what it means to have a strong work ethic: you don't stop when you're tired; you stop when the job is done. He modeled family values and the importance of treating others with respect and compassion. He's a kind, caring man who I call Dad without hesitation.

And then there's Greg.

Although we've been divorced for almost twenty years, he has always been an incredible father to our kids. They've had guidance, advice, support, love, compassion, and friendship every step of the way. I'm grateful that we've become friends and that together we've been able to show our children that relationships can remain healthy and respectful, even when they no longer look the way they once did.

Father's Day reminds me that there isn't just one way to be a father.

Some teach us how to fish.

Some teach us how to drive.

Some teach us how to parent.

Some teach us how to show up for the people we love.

And some leave us with memories that still make us smile twenty-three years later.

I've been fortunate enough to know all of those kinds of fathers.

Until next time, may a small wave of inspiration find you.