The History of Father's Day and the Gift of a Good Dad
America Needs Fathers More Than Ever
Father’s Day has always been a little bittersweet for me.
My dad passed away on January 26, 2010, after a three-year battle with stage 4 colorectal cancer. I was 30 years old.
For years after he died, Father’s Day felt like a reminder of what I had lost.
The missed conversations.
The milestones he would never get to see.
The grandchildren he would never get to meet.
The questions I never got the chance to ask.
But somewhere along the way, my perspective shifted.
Today, when Father’s Day rolls around, I find myself focusing less on the loss and more on the incredible man who I was blessed to call Daddy.
Because the truth is, not everyone grows up with a good father.
I did.
And the older I get, the more grateful I become for that gift.
The Daughter Who Started Father’s Day
Most Americans celebrate Father’s Day without giving much thought to where it came from.
I certainly didn’t.
As it turns out, Father’s Day exists because one daughter loved her father.
In 1909, a woman named Sonora Smart Dodd sat in church listening to a Mother’s Day sermon. As she listened, she couldn’t help but think about her own father, a Civil War veteran who raised six children by himself after his wife died.
She believed fathers deserved recognition too.
The following year, she helped organize what is widely considered the first Father’s Day celebration in Spokane, Washington. It would take decades before the holiday became nationally recognized, but her idea eventually spread across the country.
I’ve always found that story fascinating.
A national holiday was born because a daughter was grateful for her dad.
And as I think about my own father, I understand exactly how she felt.
A Father Worth Missing
One of the most difficult things about grief is that people often focus on the loss itself.
But loss is really just evidence that something valuable existed in the first place.
When people tell me they’re sorry my father passed away, I appreciate the sentiment. But what I often find myself thinking is how thankful I am that I had him at all.
My dad wasn’t famous.
He didn’t hold political office.
He wasn’t trying to change the world.
He was simply a husband, a father, and a hardworking man who loved his family.
And that’s exactly what made him extraordinary.
I still remember sitting beside his bed during those final days.
I remember trying to keep him comfortable.
I remember singing “You Are My Sunshine” to him, a song he taught me when I was four years old.
I remember telling him that Mom and I would be okay.
And I remember the peace that came when his suffering finally ended.
But those aren’t the memories that define him.
What defines him are the decades that came before.
The sacrifices.
The lessons.
The steady presence.
The countless small moments that seemed ordinary at the time but became priceless later.
Those are the things that stay with you.
The Legacy of a Father
The older I get, the more I realize that a father’s greatest gift isn’t money.
It isn’t possessions.
It isn’t even advice.
It’s example.
A good father teaches things that can never be fully measured.
How to work hard and keep your word.
How to love your family.
How to persevere when life doesn’t go according to plan.
How to do the right thing even when it’s difficult.
Many of those lessons are never spoken out loud.
They’re simply observed.
Absorbed.
Passed from one generation to the next.
I often wonder what my dad would think about the work I’m doing today.
Would he understand why I’ve spent the last several years immersed in election integrity, civic education, writing, and speaking?
Would he be proud?
Would he be confused?
Honestly, I don’t know.
But I hope he’d recognize something familiar.
I hope he’d recognize the same daughter he raised with an almost obsessive motivation to live with a purpose.
The one still trying to do what’s right.
The one still trusting God with the outcomes.
The one still believing that truth matters.
Why Fathers Matter
We live in a culture that sometimes minimizes the importance of fathers.
Yet history, common sense, and countless personal stories tell us otherwise.
Fathers matter.
Not because they’re perfect.
Not because mothers aren’t equally important.
But because fathers bring something unique to the family.
Their presence matters.
Their leadership matters.
Their example matters.
Their love matters.
Strong families build strong communities.
Strong communities build strong nations.
And long before we talk about politics, constitutions, elections, or public policy, we have to acknowledge a simple truth:
The family is where leadership begins.
Breaking the Cycle
As grateful as I am for the father I had, I know not everyone shares that experience.
For some, Father’s Day brings gratitude.
For others, it brings grief.
And for some, it brings wounds that still haven’t fully healed.
Maybe your father wasn’t there.
Maybe he left.
Maybe he struggled with addiction.
Maybe he never learned how to express love.
Maybe he did the best he could with what he had, and it still wasn’t enough.
If that’s your story, I want you to hear something important:
Your father’s failures do not have to become your future.
One of the most beautiful things about family is that every generation gets an opportunity to make different choices.
You can become the parent you wish you’d had.
You can create the home you never experienced.
You can establish new traditions.
You can model forgiveness, faithfulness, and unconditional love.
You can break cycles that may have existed in your family for generations.
The absence of a good example makes the journey harder, but it doesn’t make it impossible.
In fact, some of the strongest fathers and mothers I’ve ever met are people who looked at their own childhood and made a simple decision:
“It stops with me.”
And because of that decision, their children will inherit something better than what they received.
That is how families change and how legacies are rewritten.
And that is how hope is passed from one generation to the next.
The Legacy Remains
This Father’s Day, I know there are people celebrating around tables filled with laughter.
And I know there are others staring at empty chairs.
I’ve been there.
If your father is still with you, call him.
Ask questions.
Listen to his stories.
Thank him.
One day you’ll wish you could hear those stories again.
And if your father is no longer here, take a moment to remember him.
Remember the lessons, the sacrifices, and the love.
The chair at our family table may be empty.
But the legacy remains.
I hear it in songs I still remember.
I see it in the values he passed down.
I feel it in the conviction to keep moving forward when life gets hard.
And for that, I will always be grateful.
Happy Father’s Day, Daddy.
I miss you.
And thank you for being a father worth missing.