My dad died when I was 7. It has shaped how I parent my own kids.

Every year, the third Sunday of June, International Father’s Day, strikes a different chord for me.

I was 7 when my father died of heart failure. I’m in my 30s now, but the ache hasn’t faded, and it’s helped me realize how important it is to have a parent beside you.

There’s a weight to their absence during the milestones of your life: graduations, career beginnings, weddings, and births. These are the moments where I feel it most.

I often imagine what it would be like to have him here

My father was a loving, involved parent. He worked hard, cared deeply, and gave his full attention to his family.

Being the youngest of six children, I had only a short time with him. Seven years are not enough to understand a parent. I only began to see his full character through the stories my siblings, relatives, and my mother shared after he died.

Yet, some memories are clear. I remember his warm hugs, his firm yet kind tone, and how present he always was.

He wasn’t a distant or distracted father. He played and laughed with us. He wanted us to grow up well-educated and well-prepared for life.

He and my mother made a solid team. With limited financial means, they found ways to get all six of us into good schools. Their priority was clear: education came first. Many things were sacrificed for it. I realize now how hard that must have been.

My father’s absence shapes how I parent

He had a natural way with children, making them feel safe and loved. Now that I have three children of my own, I tell them about him often.

I say, “If your grandfather were here, he would’ve spoiled you with love.” I imagine how he’d light up around them.

Knowing how he treated other children, I have no doubt his grandchildren would have been the center of his world.

He wasn’t bound by the traditional gender roles that still held strong in our society back when I was young. He believed in equality at home.

He taught my mother how to drive. He encouraged her to be independent. He told my sisters and me to choose any career we wanted. He treated our ambitions with respect.

I look back and wish I had more pictures with him. I wish the memories were sharper. The blurred edges of my recollection make the grief more painful. However, they also push me to create strong memories for my own children.

I’m deeply conscious of how important it is for my husband to have a deep bond with our kids. I want them to have a clear sense of who he is. That matters.

How my father’s legacy lives on

After my father died, my mother became our strength. She carried the weight of two parents without showing us how heavy it was. She fought to give us the same love, discipline, and security we had before.

She still makes sure we never feel abandoned or broken. Whenever I lose motivation, she reminds me of my father’s dreams for us. That helped me build a career, raise a family, and stay grounded.

She always says, “His legacy must live on. Don’t forget what he started.” My father laid the foundation for our values, especially around work, education, and fairness.

I’ve used those principles not just in my professional life, but also in my personal relationships and parenting. His absence didn’t erase his influence; it made it sharper.

Even now, I find myself thinking, “What would he have done in this situation?” That’s the power of a parent’s love. It doesn’t fade. It shapes you long after they’re gone. It pushes you to rise, even when you’re low. It builds your character quietly, steadily, without noise. And in the end, it stays.

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