Two Sides of Being a Father

Father’s Day has always made me reflective, but this year feels especially poignant. After 26 years of celebrating this day as a dad, I’ve found myself thinking a lot about the two sides of fatherhood—the joy and the worry, the pride and the fear. It’s a mix that never quite balances out but somehow feels right.

There’s a part of me that’s endlessly excited to watch my kids grow, to see them become their own people, chase passions, and carve their own paths. And then there’s the part that never stops worrying. I know I’m not alone in that. It’s part of the job, but some days, flipping that coin—between cheering them on and holding my breath—is harder than others.

One of my sons is deeply involved in a sport that carries some serious risks. He’s driven, talented, and focused. When he’s doing it, there’s a peace about him that’s hard to explain—like he’s right where he’s supposed to be. And as much as I admire that, I can’t help but feel a deep sense of worry every time he takes that leap. I’m proud. I’m scared. I’m in awe. And I wouldn’t stop him for anything. That’s not the job. The job is to support him and love him—and trust that he’s building the life he wants, even if it puts him on paths that make my heart race.

With four kids, this tug-of-war shows up in a thousand ways. As they’ve moved from toddlers to teens to adults, I’ve had to come to terms with something that hasn’t been easy for me: I love solving problems. It’s how I’m wired. Give me a challenge, and I’ll find five different ways to tackle it. But when it comes to parenting adults, I’ve learned—often the hard way—that my solutions aren’t always what they need. My job isn’t to hand them a fix. It’s to make sure they have the space and support to create their own.

That realization is one I keep coming back to, especially now. My daughter is heading off to college this fall after a very tough year—a gap year she didn’t choose but one she navigated with courage and resilience. She’s heading across the ocean, and while she’s ready, I’m still catching up to that. She’s nervous, as she should be. She’s excited, as she should be. She’s 19. And this is exactly what 19 should look like.

As I think about this Father’s Day, I keep returning to the paradox of it all. The joy and the fear, the guiding and the letting go. It’s both things, all the time. And it’s the greatest role I’ve ever had. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. The price of admission is high—but the payoff is immeasurable.

And of course, there’s no Father’s Day without Mother’s Day. I’m so lucky to have a partner who’s poured herself into raising these kids alongside me. She’s thoughtful, intuitive, strong, and sometimes, yes, a little too worried—just like me. But she’s been the general for the last 25 years, driving the big decisions and steering us through the small ones. When I look at our kids and feel proud of who they are, I see her hand in every part of that.

So this Father’s Day, I’ll quietly take a little bit of the credit—because I can, and because it’s my day. But mostly, I’ll just feel grateful. Grateful for the hard parts and the soft parts. Grateful for the privilege of watching my kids become who they are. And grateful to be walking this path, one imperfect, beautiful step at a time.