Father’s Day will always hold a special place in my heart.
In 1986, our family gathered to celebrate Father’s Day. We visited my grandfather, spent time together, and honoured my dad. Everything seemed normal. Everything seemed safe.
Then, just one week later, my brother Rob died.
It was as though someone had shaken the snow globe of our lives. The memories of the week before became blurry. The laughter, the conversations, and the celebration were suddenly overshadowed by the devastating reality that Rob was gone.
Nearly forty years later, my family still acknowledges the day Rob died. Every Father’s Day, I find myself wanting to make the day extra special for my dad. Perhaps it is because I understand how quickly life can change. Perhaps it is because grief has taught me to treasure ordinary moments.
These days, I love spending Father’s Day fishing. Nature helps me relax and reflect. Sitting by the water reminds me that grief is still present in my life, but it is no longer debilitating. It moves differently now.
As I sit quietly, I can feel the final three stages of Grief Uprooted swirling around me: Clarity, Compassion, and Resilience. There is a realization that grief is here to stay. Not as an enemy, but as a companion that walks alongside love.
Part of healing has been learning to create new traditions around days that once carried tremendous sorrow for our family.
I also try to buy my dad a gag gift every Father’s Day. He loves a good laugh. If I cannot find the perfect joke, I know I am always safe with a motorcycle shirt, plaque, or just about anything related to motorcycles. We both ride.
I often think back to the long rides we took together. I would follow behind my dad as he rode down the open road. At the time, I thought we were simply enjoying the ride. Looking back now, I realize it may have been his way of letting go of some emotions. His way of grieving.
I am currently working on a book that includes interviews with three fathers who have lost children. What strikes me most is how different each man appears on the surface, yet how similar they are underneath.
One talks openly. One stays busy. One prefers quiet reflection.
The emotions are there. They are simply expressed differently.
I often hear people say that men do not cry or grieve.
I am here to tell you that is simply not true.
Men grieve deeply. Fathers grieve deeply. Grandfathers grieve deeply. Sons, brothers, and friends grieve deeply.
For generations, many men were taught to be strong, to provide, and to protect. As a result, some learned to carry grief quietly. Unfortunately, quiet grief is often mistaken for no grief at all.
But grief has many languages.
Sometimes it speaks through tears.
Sometimes it speaks through hard work.
Sometimes it speaks through a long motorcycle ride, a fishing rod cast into the water, a woodworking project in the garage, or a long walk in the woods.
Boys are often watching the men in their lives more closely than they realize. They learn how to handle disappointment, loss, anger, and heartbreak by observing fathers, grandfathers, uncles, coaches, and mentors. When men allow themselves to express grief in healthy ways, they become role models for the younger generation. They learn that strength is not the absence of emotion. Strength is having the courage to feel it.
Anger is often one of the hardest emotions for men to talk about. Sometimes it is easier to show anger than sadness. Sports, exercise, hiking, fishing, woodworking, music, art, motorcycles, and countless other hobbies can provide healthy outlets for releasing emotions, reflecting, and working through grief.
And then there is the silence of a man.
The silence is often misunderstood.
Many people assume silence means a man is not grieving. In reality, silence can be where grief lives. It is where memories are replayed. It is where conversations with loved ones continue long after they are gone. It is where questions are asked and where tears are shed when no one is watching.
A man’s silence is not always emptiness. Sometimes it is a room full of memories.
This Father’s Day, I encourage men to permit themselves to grieve in healthy ways.
1. Share a story
Talk about the person you miss. Keeping memories alive can be healing.
2. Spend time in nature
Whether it is fishing, hiking, camping, or simply sitting by the water, nature often gives us space to reflect.
3. Move your body
Sports, exercise, walking, cycling, or working in the yard can help release emotions that are difficult to put into words.
4. Create something
Woodworking, art, music, building, gardening, or working with your hands can provide a healthy outlet for grief.
5. Find your people
Talk with a trusted friend, family member, mentor, or support group. Grief becomes lighter when it is shared.
6. Honour traditions—or create new ones
Visit a special place, ride a favourite route, cook a family meal, or start a new tradition that brings comfort and connection.
7. Give yourself permission to feel
There is no right or wrong way to grieve. Tears, laughter, anger, reflection, and remembrance all have a place in the healing process.
As I reflect on my own father, I am grateful for the lessons he taught me—not only through his words, but through his actions. Looking back, I can see that those long rides down open roads may have been helping him carry grief in the best way he knew how.
This Father’s Day, whether you are celebrating, grieving, remembering, or simply making it through the day, know that you are not alone.
With clarity, we begin to understand our grief.
With compassion, we become gentler with ourselves and others.
With resilience, we learn how to move forward while continuing to carry the love of those we miss.
The love remains.
And perhaps that is what grief teaches us most of all.
We grieve because we loved, and we continue to grieve because we continue to love.
This article is not intended to replace professional medical or psychological support or care. If at any point you feel overwhelmed or need immediate support, please consider reaching out to Mental Health/Community Care at 250-242-2642.
We will be gathering online next week to hold space for this conversation—to talk openly about the many ways grief shows up. I will be there to answer your questions and to support open conversation around your grief journey. If you would like to submit questions in advance, please don’t hesitate to reach out at info@robertspress.ca. If you need additional grief resources, support is available.
Christine Dernederlanden, C.B.T., C.T.S.S., IAC Master Practitioner and Reiki Master, is a grief and trauma expert, author, and speaker. She is the author of numerous books, including Where is Robert?, and Grief Uprooted: The Seven Stages of Grief for the Living, and hosts the Grief Uprooted podcast. Learn more at griefuprooted.com and robertspress.ca
