Memories of a Father

Loving Your Dad Through All of the Stages of His Life

I asked a few friends to share stories about their dads in honor of Father's Day, and I was struck by the things we remember about our dads. Sounds, smells, and sights imprint on our minds. Memories of our fathers keep them alive in us even once they're already gone.

Priscilla's Story

"When asked about my dad, I always take a moment before answering. The moment of silence brings me back emotionally to a time that I can never recreate. The priceless memories of smiles and joy can never be duplicated but always remembered and relived through my photographic memories. My dad was what I view as an Iconic Hero. At least to me. There was never an obstacle too big to overcome, he always was there for our family, ready to go for a Friday night on the town, and by on the town, I mean football games and family dinners, then Saturday boat rides.

In fact, he never missed anything. Whether it was my first day of school, rides to the local deli, award ceremonies, or sports games, he was always there, ready for anything. One could say I was lucky to have these times, but to me, it was my world. He was my best friend and my whole world for much of my life and still, to this day, remains with me. In a silent moment, I can smell his cologne as he walked by every day with the same signature smells and feel his presence through every lighthouse Image I see. I know that even though I was his "Daddy's Girl" and "apple of his eye," his legend will forever live within me."

Meg's Story

"For a period of time, my father was a stayat-home dad. It was the mid-80s, so it was rare, but from hearing his memory of that time, it was perhaps the most cherished day job of his lifetime. I have vague memories of lying in the hammock in the yard, singing nursery rhymes. Occasionally throughout my life, a melody would worm its way out of my memory and into my ear, replaying the soundtrack of my earliest days.

In my adolescence, I recall my dad doing things around the house, whistling tunes from his own childhood favorite, Mary Poppins. Later, I'd be washing the dishes in my first apartment and find myself whittling away, singing to myself, "Life is like a holiday with Marryyy…."

When I decided in my mid-twenties that I was going to move across the country to be with a boy I had fallen for in college, my dad said to me, "Baby, I would walk a thousand miles to get to your mother if I had to. Do what you have to do." When I ended up marrying that same young man a few years later, I walked down the aisle to the lyrics, "I would walk 500 miles, and I would walk 500 more…" by The Proclaimers, a subtle nod to the confidence he gave me to take that bold step, no matter how heartbreaking it must have been for him.

When my own daughter was born, just three years ago, my dad once again offered to come spend the days with her while my husband and I went back to work. He'd spend hours with her, strumming his guitar, playing the harmonica, and humming her his favorite tunes. She was only a few months old, but it solidified a deep and lasting bond that she still has with him.

My father once told me that the best thing a parent can do is just step back and let their children be themselves. Of course, that is easier said than done, but everything is a little easier when you set it to music."

Adrienne's Story

"I couldn't end without including some memories of my father. My dad is an adventurer. Always looking for the next thing to learn or place to fall in love with. He's been wealthy, and he's been poor, he's had very traditional jobs, and yet to this day, he drives a tour Jeep in the Arizona desert. I've thought a lot about my dad in preparation for this article, and adventure is the word that sums up my perception of him.

Growing up, we spent summers visiting family in Ocean City, Maryland. Our extended family would rent out adjoining apartments steps from the sand, and we'd stuff what felt like dozens of people into close quarters for a week or so. We'd spend all day on the beach, building sandcastles, and waiting for the tune of the ice cream truck to ring in the distance. I can still envision my dad coming out of the surf, golden brown tan, tired from body surfing in the waves.

My dad is exciting, playful, and an easy conversationalist. He's a great party guest, full of adventure stories and random facts picked up along the way. But what I appreciate most about him is his lack of judgment. He accepts people for who they are, me included. Reflecting back, I wonder if his lack of judgment comes from wanting to be able to live life on his terms. Judge not lest ye be judged, kind of thing. The long-term plan is for my dad to move back to Florida from Arizona, and I look forward to seeing what his next big adventure will hold. I have a sneaking suspicion the grandkids will be learning how to body surf."

The relationships we have with our parents are everevolving. As young children, we depend on them for safety. They are our teachers and our best friends. Then, as we grow, we naturally desire space from our parents and fight to carve out our own identities in the world. If we're lucky, only to return to a new parent-child relationship that feels more like friendship than dependency. For some, their relationships will continue to evolve into an inverse version of childhood where their parents become the dependents.

The older our parents get, the more memories we store away of them. Memories are a snapshot of a moment in time. They capture versions of the people we love, and it's only when we begin to stack those memories together that an image of their full humanity comes into focus. This becomes even more real as our parents age, and the dads who used to pick us up and swing us around don't have the strength they used to. Eventually, the memories of our fathers include seeing them at their most vulnerable. When we allow the fullness of our fathers' humanity to surface, we see them and love them for the men they've always been.

Stories like those above are the fire that keeps our fathers' memories alive. Even once they're no longer here with us, their lessons and wild adventures live forever in the people with whom we share their stories. So this Father’s Day, I hope you collect beautiful stories of the fathers in your life, past and present, and that you write them down so they live on.

Adrienne Freeland is a freelance writer who specializes in helping business owners communicate more clearly. Using skills developed in her former career as a professional fundraiser, Adrienne collaborates with her clients to craft engaging, targeted content.