To the Fathers Who Try: A Father's Day Reflection from the Other Side of the Silence

donna conley
Jun 15
2 min read

Father’s Day has always carried a certain stillness for me.

My parents divorced when I was young, and I didn’t grow up with my father in my daily life. I didn’t truly get to know him until I was older—and by then, years had already carved their stories into my heart. That absence shaped me in ways I didn’t fully understand until much later.

Back then, my younger self didn’t know how complicated adult choices could be. I only knew the ache. The questions. The empty seat. And in the absence of answers, I assumed it was because I wasn’t worth staying for.

But it wasn’t his fault. And that truth took years to unfold.

Now, as a mother, I’ve experienced that ache from the other side. I haven’t seen my son’s father since I was three months pregnant. No one stepped in. No one showed up. And yet—looking back—I can see that my energy didn’t allow anyone in.

I was protecting myself and my child so fiercely that I didn’t leave space for someone to stay.

That realization softened something in me. Because the pain we carry from father wounds doesn’t always come from malice or neglect. Sometimes, it’s born from missed chances, protective instincts, or misunderstandings too deep for words. And healing that pain isn’t about placing blame—it’s about rewriting the story with truth, compassion, and courage.

So today, I want to speak to the fathers who try.

To the dads knocking on locked doors.

To the men writing letters that never get answered.

To the ones showing up to court dates and school events, hoping someone will let them in.

Don’t stop trying.

Don’t let go.

I'm so glad my father never gave up.

Even if your effort is blocked—energetically, legally, emotionally—it matters.

Your child may not see it now. They may not understand the barriers between you. But the universe does. And one day, that child might look back and recognize your effort as the thread that tethered them to hope.

And to the children—young or grown—who never had someone show up: I see you too.

Your worth was never defined by someone else’s ability to stay.

You are whole.

You are loved.

And your story matters.

This Father’s Day, I honor the truth between us all—the seen and unseen efforts. The pain that shaped us. The healing we’re still reaching for.

May we all learn to forgive what we didn’t know at the time.

And may love, someday, find its way back through the silence.

P.S., I love you, Dad!

—

Looking for support on your emotional healing journey?

🌕 Explore my books, Reiki, sound healing, meditation, and courses at Wild Moon Healers