Being Fatherless on Father’s Day

My Dad left the planet in 2009. In Australia, Father’s Day is a different date to the UK where my father lived. At times for me, it was an easy excuse not to bother sending my Dad a Father’s Day card particularly when the cards were so heartfelt and that’s not what I felt for many of the years he was alive.

I am thankful in my Dad’s later years that he found a beautiful partner who brought out the best in him, and he worked hard to repair the fractured relationship we had had at times, and he made a huge effort to stay connected even from 12,000 miles away. I do have some happy memories of spending time with him as a child, and he helped me through some tumultuous times in my adolescence and teen years. I don’t however, remember spending any Father’s Days with him and I do remember his absence at other significant events.

As with all the other events in Australia (and I’m sure in other countries too), Father’s Day marketing saturates everything from emails, social media Ads, TV Ads, and everything else in between. Let’s face it, if you’ve bought something from a shop or online in the past, you can guarantee that you’ll get an email geared to what to buy for Dad.

Father’s Day marketing certainly doesn’t cater for father-less children/adult children or fathers who are absent for whatever reason that may be. Father’s Day is also a gender specific event which may mean that the day can feel different to different families. There is a marketing assumption that every family has a mother and a father, and even without that assumption, there is a tokenistic attempt to show difference.

Whilst the grief, feelings of loss, or feelings that something was missing have softened for me over the years, without knowing it, I can understand that grief has come from that first primary attachment. For me, the primary attachment was with my Dad. As a twin, my Mum primarily cared for my twin sister, and my Dad cared for me. That loss is a deep one whether I like it or not. It is a primal loss. It is also a loss of role and identity. I remember even as an adult thinking, "I'm an orphan now", and it was a weird feeling. Am I still a daughter now that both my parents are no longer alive?

As that absence, grief and loss softens, I can look back on the parts of my Dad I choose to keep.

Thank you Dad, for instilling in me a love and appreciation of music.

Thank you Dad, for coaching me in Opera singing and for giving me the skills and confidence to use my voice.

Thank you Dad, for advocating for me as a young woman trying to navigate an education system that I didn’t fit into.

Thank you Dad, for your gentleness when I hurt myself as a child (Mum had a brutal touch!).

Thank you for giving me an appreciation for all things history which gave me a thirst for finding my ancestral roots.

As Father’s Day is upon us, and whatever that means to you in your life (it’s hard to avoid), what do you need to do to take care of you?

Some ways to cope with the Father’s Day Experience might be:

· It’s okay to feel the way you’re feeling.

· Talk about your experience either with family and/or friends, or with a therapist.

· Listen to what you need and give yourself the space to do what you need to do to meet

that need.

· If you are grieving, notice that your grief can be all over the place and doesn’t necessarily

fit any particular stage.

· If it feels okay, find ways to celebrate other people in your life that are important to you. Thank those particular people in your life. Give yourself permission to create new memories.

· Acknowledge that no matter what your father may be, has been, or has not been in your life, that loss is a significant one.

· Acknowledge the sadness of your own loss and treat yourself with compassion and kindness. There are many articles and exercises on self-compassion.

· Most of all. Find ways that you can hold aside or let go of the “shoulds”, expectations and media influenced portrayals of what a Dad is.