September 5, 2026
Father’s Day can be full of barbecue breakfasts, handmade cards and well-earned sleep-ins. It can also bring gratitude, grief, distance, complicated memories, or a mix of all of these things. Wherever this day finds you, I hope there is room to honour the fathers, grandfathers, stepdads, father figures and other caring men who have helped children feel loved, safe and seen.
The importance of fathers in family life is not measured only in the big moments. It is in the everyday work of parenting: reading another story, making lunches, listening to a child’s worries, getting down on the floor to play, attending appointments, holding a boundary, and being the person who can make a hard day feel a little lighter.
Research reflects what many families already know. Positive father–child engagement — including play, reading, talking, caregiving and shared outings — is associated with children’s stronger mental health and wellbeing, including fewer behavioural difficulties. The research does not say there is one right way to be a dad. It does remind us that being present, warm and involved matters.
The Dad I Remember
This Father’s Day, I find myself thinking about my own dad.
Dad was a fisherman who owned his own trawler. He was a true character: a little bit of a rogue, if I am honest, but a good man. He did not have a great deal, yet he was incredibly generous with what he did have. If he came home with extra prawns or fish, neighbours were invited to share in the catch. Giving was simply part of who he was.
When Dad retired, that generosity took on a quieter shape. He made it his business to put the bins out and bring them back in for the older neighbours in our area. He would collect their newspapers, too. They were small acts, perhaps, but they said something important about the way he moved through the world: he noticed people, and he helped where he could.
He rarely wore shoes and, if he was going anywhere, he was likely to be wearing one of his many towelling hats – often covered in grime from fixing something on the boat or useful for mopping sweat from a brow. He loved Mum, his girls — all daughters — and his grandchildren. He teased us all relentlessly but never cared if he looked a little silly while doing it. He would dance, pull faces, sing badly, and generally make a fool of himself if it made the grandkids laugh.
Dad also had toes we called the “crab claws”. He could pick things up with them and, if he was feeling mischievous, give you a surprisingly good pinch. It is one of those very particular family memories that probably makes no sense to anyone else but instantly makes me smile when I think about it.
What Children Remember
Children may not remember every present, every school lunch or every outing. They do remember how the important people in their lives made them feel. They remember the parent who showed up, the grandad who made them laugh, the dad who shared what he had, and the adult who made time for them when life was busy.
That is why fatherhood is not about perfection, money, or having all the answers. It is about connection. It is about being willing to be playful, steady, kind, and real. It is about the silly dances, the shared meals, the firm but loving boundaries, the practical jobs no-one notices, and the reassurance that someone is in your corner.
For many fathers, parenting also means sharing the invisible work of family life: knowing what children need, organising appointments, carrying the mental load, and supporting their partner. This kind of care matters too. It creates more space for children to be securely loved by the people around them.
A Gentle Thought for Father’s Day
Father’s Day can be a joyful celebration, but it can also be difficult for people who are grieving, estranged, hoping to become parents, or carrying complicated family stories. There is no single way to feel about it. A simple message, a shared memory, a phone call, a visit, or even a quiet moment of remembrance can be enough.
For me, Father’s Day is a chance to remember my dad in all his barefoot, towelling-hat, crab-claw-toed glory. I remember his laughter, his generosity and the way he loved his family. He taught me, not through grand speeches but through his actions, that care can look like sharing your prawns with the neighbours, bringing in someone’s newspaper, or making a grandchild laugh until they cannot breathe.
To the dads and father figures who show up in the small, steady, hilarious and loving ways: thank you. The little things matter more than you may ever know.
Love,
Chelle 💗
Special Education Complex Supports and Family Support Specialist