National Son’s and Daughter’s Day, observed on August 11, is meant to be a day to celebrate our children, appreciate the time we have with them, and recognize the incredible place they hold in our lives.
For many parents, today may mean spending extra time with their sons and daughters, sharing photographs, making memories, calling them just to say “I love you,” or thinking about how quickly the years have passed.
For me, this day carries a different kind of meaning.
I am still a father.
I will always be a father.
But my son is no longer physically here for me to call, hug, sit beside, or spend the day with.
So today, I honor him through memory.
I honor him through love.
And I honor him by continuing to carry him with me through the life I am still living.
A Father Never Stops Being a Father
One of the things I have learned through grief is that death can change a relationship, but it cannot erase it.
My son may no longer be physically beside me, but he will always be my son.
There is no expiration date on fatherhood.
There is no moment when a grieving father suddenly stops loving his child because that child has passed away.
If anything, the love remains while searching for somewhere to go.
Before loss, we express our love through conversations, hugs, laughter, advice, celebrations, meals together, birthdays, holidays, and ordinary everyday moments.
After loss, we have to learn another language of love.
We speak their names.
We tell their stories.
We look through photographs.
We remember their laughter.
We visit the places that remind us of them.
We write about them.
We help others because of them.
We find ways to keep their memory alive.
That is part of what National Son’s and Daughter’s Day has become for me.
It is another opportunity to say:
My son was here.
He mattered.
He was loved.
And he will never be forgotten.
Remembering the Person He Was
When someone passes away, people sometimes begin talking about that person primarily in terms of their death.
But my son’s life was so much more than the way it ended.
He had a personality.
He had dreams.
He had laughter.
He had things he enjoyed.
He had moments that made me proud.
He had a heart that affected the people around him.
He was a person with an entire story.
As his father, I want that story remembered.
That is one reason I continue writing about grief and child loss. Yes, writing helps me process some of what I carry, but it also gives me another way to preserve my son’s memory.
Every time I write about him, part of his story continues.
Every time his memory encourages another grieving parent, something meaningful comes from the love I still have for him.
Grief Doesn’t Cancel Gratitude
National Son’s and Daughter’s Day can bring complicated emotions for grieving parents.
There is sadness because someone we desperately wish were here is missing.
There can also be gratitude.
I am grateful that I had the privilege of being my son’s father.
I am grateful for the memories we created.
I am grateful for the conversations, laughter, ordinary days, difficult days, and everything in between.
Would I want more time?
Of course.
No amount of time would ever have felt like enough.
But grief has taught me that gratitude and heartbreak can occupy the same heart.
I can be devastated that my son is gone while also being incredibly thankful that he was part of my life.
One feeling doesn’t erase the other.
The Ordinary Memories Become Priceless
Something else grief has taught me is how valuable ordinary moments really are.
Before losing someone, we often think the biggest memories will be birthdays, vacations, graduations, holidays, and other milestones.
Those memories certainly matter.
But after someone you love dies, you may find yourself missing things you never realized would become precious.
A conversation.
A joke.
Sitting together watching television.
Eating a meal.
A phone call.
Hearing their footsteps.
Seeing their name appear on your phone.
Even hearing them complain about something.
The things that once seemed ordinary can become the memories you would give almost anything to experience one more time.
That is why days like National Son’s and Daughter’s Day can also carry an important message for parents whose children are still here:
Don’t wait for a special occasion to appreciate them.
Tell them you love them.
Call them.
Listen to them.
Spend time with them.
Take the picture.
Make the memory.
Forgive the small things.
Enjoy the ordinary moments.
Because sometimes the ordinary moments become the ones we miss the most.
Turning My Grief Into Something Meaningful
I cannot change what happened.
That reality has been one of the hardest things to accept.
No amount of wishing, bargaining, anger, or heartbreak can rewrite the past.
But I can decide what I do with the love that remains.
One way I honor my son is by trying to help other people.
Sometimes that means writing about grief.
Sometimes it means listening to someone who needs to talk.
Sometimes it means reminding another grieving parent that their child deserves to be remembered.
Sometimes it simply means showing kindness when someone is struggling.
These actions cannot bring my son back.
Nothing can.
But they allow his memory to continue influencing the person I choose to become.
If something I write helps another grieving father feel understood, my son’s memory is part of that.
If my experiences help someone feel less alone, his life continues creating ripples beyond the years he physically lived.
That matters to me.
Saying His Name Matters
Many grieving parents understand the strange silence that sometimes develops after losing a child.
People may stop mentioning your child’s name because they are afraid they will upset you.
But what many people don’t understand is that we are already thinking about our children.
Hearing their names doesn’t suddenly remind us that they died.
We never forgot.
For many of us, hearing someone else say our child’s name is actually comforting.
It tells us:
You remember them too.
That can mean more than people realize.
I never want my son’s name or story to disappear simply because time continues moving forward.
I want to remember.
I want to talk about him.
I want the people who knew him to remember.
And I want people who never had the opportunity to meet him to understand that he was an important part of this world and an incredibly important part of mine.
Grief Changes, but Love Doesn’t
People sometimes talk about “moving on” after loss.
I don’t believe that accurately describes what happens when you lose a child.
You don’t simply move on from your son or daughter.
You learn how to move forward while carrying them.
There is a difference.
Moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting.
It doesn’t mean you have stopped grieving.
It doesn’t mean the relationship no longer matters.
It means somehow learning to continue living while carrying both love and loss.
Some days I carry that weight better than others.
There are days when memories bring smiles.
There are days when those same memories bring tears.
Sometimes they bring both.
That is grief.
It doesn’t follow a straight line or a predictable schedule.
To Other Parents Missing a Child Today
If you are reading this because you have also lost a son or daughter, I want you to know that there is no correct way to observe a day like today.
You don’t have to be strong.
You don’t have to turn your grief into something inspirational.
You don’t have to celebrate if celebrating feels impossible.
You can cry.
You can laugh at a favorite memory.
You can look through photographs.
You can visit a special place.
You can light a candle.
You can write your child a letter.
You can make their favorite meal.
You can tell someone a story about them.
You can simply sit quietly and remember.
Whatever helps you feel connected to your child is enough.
Their life mattered.
Your relationship mattered.
And the love you have for them still matters.
To Parents Whose Children Are Still Here
Today also gives me an opportunity to share something I wish everyone understood before experiencing loss.
Time is precious.
We hear that phrase so often that it can become easy to ignore.
But it is true.
We assume there will always be another conversation.
Another dinner.
Another birthday.
Another holiday.
Another opportunity to say what needs to be said.
Life doesn’t guarantee us those moments.
So hug your children.
Tell them you love them.
Tell them you’re proud of them.
Listen when they want to talk.
Put the phone down occasionally and simply be present.
Make memories even when nothing special is happening.
One day, those ordinary memories may become some of the most valuable things you possess.
My Son Is Still Part of My Story
Losing my son changed me forever.
There is a version of myself that existed before his death and another version that has had to learn how to survive afterward.
I cannot return to the person I was before.
But I can continue trying to become someone my son would be proud of.
That has become part of how I honor him.
I can keep helping people.
I can keep writing.
I can keep speaking honestly about grief.
I can keep showing compassion to people carrying pain that others cannot see.
I can keep getting up when grief tells me it would be easier to stay down.
And I can continue saying his name and sharing his story.
Because as long as I am here, my son will remain part of my story.
Today, I Honor My Son
On this National Son’s and Daughter’s Day, there is an empty space beside me that can never truly be filled.
I wish my son were here.
I wish I could hear his voice again.
I wish I could have another conversation, another laugh, another ordinary day.
But since I cannot change what happened, I will continue doing what I can.
I will remember him.
I will speak his name.
I will tell his story.
I will help others when I can.
I will carry the lessons his life gave me.
And I will continue trying to live in a way that honors the privilege I had of being his father.
Death may have taken away the future I thought we would have together.
But it did not take away the past we shared.
It did not erase the memories.
And it certainly did not erase the love.
Today isn’t only about grieving the son I lost.
It is about celebrating the son I was blessed to have.
He was here.
He mattered.
He changed my life.
He will always be my son.
And I will always be his dad.
Happy National Son’s and Daughter’s Day to my son.
I love you. I miss you. And I will carry you with me for the rest of my life.
A Father’s Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Child
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