FATHER’S Day comes every year, neatly marked on the calendar, sandwiched between summer plans and graduation parties. The cards flood store shelves, filled with playful jokes or generic praises, and yet, for many fathers, this day arrives not as celebration — but as silence. For some, it’s a reminder of what has been lost; for others, what has never been truly acknowledged.
We live in a culture where fatherhood is often noticed only when it fails. Absent fathers, neglectful fathers, emotionally distant fathers — these stories dominate the headlines and social narratives. But what of the present fathers? The committed ones? The emotionally evolving, hardworking, steady fathers who quietly bear the weight of love and responsibility without applause?
They exist in large numbers, yet their stories are rarely told.
To be a father today is to carry a quiet kind of nobility — one that is rarely celebrated and often misunderstood. It is showing up when you are exhausted. Listening when your own thoughts are drowning. Providing not just money, but time, protection, and presence. It is sacrificing parts of your own identity to build one your children can safely grow into. It is the practice of carrying joy and burden side by side — of being the one who must appear strong even while unravelling within.
And yet, even in an age that claims to embrace more inclusive parenting models, the father’s role often remains symbolically diminished. In divorce courts, in public schools, in parenting media — his voice is frequently secondary. His affection, questioned. His struggles, invisible.
What complicates this further is the subtle cultural conditioning that encourages men to minimise their emotional needs. From early on, boys are often taught to measure their worth through stoicism, productivity, and control. So many fathers inherit silence as a survival strategy — one that later becomes mistaken for indifference.
But silence is not absence. Often, it is the language of suppressed love. And many fathers are learning — painfully and courageously — to speak new emotional languages for the sake of their children.
This is not to deny that some men fail in their role as fathers — just as some mothers do. But when a father succeeds, when he overcomes generational wounds, when he stays present despite being pushed to the margins — why is that not equally part of the conversation? Why is it easier to spotlight the failures than to illuminate the triumphs of quiet devotion?
Fatherhood is not a role — it’s a relationship. And relationships are forged in consistency, in presence, in sacrifice. They are sculpted not by perfection, but by perseverance. Many fathers know what it means to be part of their child’s life in fragmented ways: the non-custodial dad who drives hours for a weekend visit; the father paying child support on time while being denied meaningful contact; the dad attending school events no one invites him to — just to catch a glimpse.
These fathers don’t always have a voice in the parenting narrative, but they are shaping their children’s worlds with every quiet act of love. Each unnoticed bedtime story, every tear wiped in silence, each sacrifice made without seeking praise — these are the bricks in the emotional architecture of fatherhood.
To love as a father often means to build without credit, to stand in shadows, to be the silent witness to your child’s victories and their pain. It means being strong enough to let them go and present enough so they know they can always come back.
This Father’s Day, we need to go beyond the paper celebration. Beyond the neckties and BBQs, beyond the cards with smiling bears. We need to reckon with the way we talk about fatherhood in our culture. We must challenge systems that reduce fathers to financial obligations while ignoring their emotional importance. We must hold space for fathers who grieve privately, who long to be closer, who are healing themselves to be better for their children.
We must teach our children that a father’s love is not lesser. It is different, but equally sacred. A father’s love may not always be as vocal or visible, but it is deeply rooted — etched in effort, forged in silence, sustained by the hope that what is given now will echo later in the lives of their children.
And we must say to the fathers who feel forgotten: You are not invisible. Your presence matters, even if it’s not praised. Your sacrifices are seen, even if not spoken. Your love is shaping lives, even when it feels one-sided.
To be a father is to build something that may not be fully understood until years later — but when it is, it will be the foundation your child stands on. You may never hear “thank you” in the moment. But one day, that child — grown, aware, and wise — will look back and realise what was done in love.
Let this Father’s Day be more than a token. Let it be a moment of truth. A moment to listen. A moment to honour the silent backbone of so many families.
And a moment to say, truly: Thank you.

Jerome Morgan is a father, author, mentor, and seasoned safety and security practitioner. He is a passionate advocate for emotional literacy, responsible fatherhood, and the restoration of balance in parenting narratives.