In the past week, my inbox has been filled with subject lines like:
Dad would love a gift card
We've got Father's Day covered
Who's your daddy?
Give Dad the day he deserves
Father's Day is nearly here
I didn't need the reminders. Since my dad died in 2019, Father's Day has loomed over me like the dark cloud that grief so often is. Come June 1, I feel it inching closer as I worry about how I'll feel, what I'll do and what people will say.
Recently, a friend asked how to acknowledge Father's Day with me. Do I want an "I'm thinking of you" text? Do I want them to sit on the couch and watch my dad's favorite movies? Do I want to be left alone?
And while I used to lean toward the latter—keeping to myself and staying off Instagram—in recent years, I've reclaimed Father's Day. I decided that if other people are out toasting their dad over brunch, there's no reason I can't do the same.
After all, it's a day of celebration, whether my dad is here or not. On Father's Day, I want to remember him as the person he was and not as a man who died. I want to eat his favorite pickles, smile thinking about the time he bought balloons because I said I scored a goal in lacrosse (spoiler: I didn't) and cringe at his favorite "joke": If Mia Hamm married the Earl of Sandwich, she'd be Mia Hamm Sandwich. (He would be very excited to know this made its way to E! News.)
I was lucky to have him for 28 years—and that's worth commemorating. And now, my hope is that if you're also grieving today, you'll join me. Let's celebrate our late fathers, their terrible dad jokes and their immeasurable legacies.
Here, in the words of their sons and daughters, is how these dads will always be remembered...
I always smile thinking about seeing Broadway shows with my dad. I cherished our theater dates as they were not only about quality time, but also an escape from the outside world. We would have lunch or dinner, take a picture outside the theater and rip open a bag of Twizzlers as the curtain went up. My dad saved every Playbill of every show he saw—18 binders worth, which are now mine—and because of him I have done the same.
He had an ability to make people smile and laugh. He really enjoyed his life, and that was so clear to the people around him.
-Rachel Heimler
I hate when people say a battle to cancer was "lost." My dad fought and won. He took on seven rounds of failed chemo and refused morphine so he could be present until the end of his life.
When my dad was in hospice, he fought to make it until my college graduation and my sister's high school graduation. I said I could defer the final stage of my thesis and still walk, just officially graduate later. Even though he was so weak, he said, as a joke, "I don't want to go to heaven and say that I have dumb kids." He was so funny like that, always finding the humor in things.
He was quite charitable and philanthropic as well, and I've long tried to merge my career with my desire to give back. I was devastated when my family wasn't at my undergrad celebration—my father passed away days before and everyone insisted I still attend—but I recently graduated from a dual MBA/MS graduate program from the University of Michigan, and this go around was so different. I was so sure of who I was after working through so much of the grief over the past decade. Of course, I missed my dad, but I have no doubt he's proud. And my mom, sister, family and friends were ready to party this time.
-Devika Agarwal
My dad was the biggest Pearl Jam fan, attending every show he possibly could and, whenever possible, bringing me along.
When I was in middle school, we had floor seats at United Center in Chicago and there were two women behind us who, for the duration of a song, blew marijuana smoke on us. As a child, any foreign smell absolutely terrified me, and I began to experience severe anxiety. So, my dad did something he never thought he'd do: He found security and got two strangers kicked out of his temple, a Pearl Jam concert. My dad was a true hero in that moment. (And now, I couldn't care less about the smell.)
Today, I really experience his presence when I'm listening to music and going to shows. It was how we connected and communicated. It's not easy to attend shows now, but it's one of the only ways I know in my heart he's by my side, jumping up and down and belting out the lyrics to every song imaginable.
So, Dad, I'll see you at the Pearl Jam show at Madison Square Garden on Sept. 11.
-Betsy Kaplan
My dad was my best friend and my hero, someone I truly looked up to. He taught me right versus wrong and instilled a moral compass that I often find myself going back to, making sure I am aligned and behaving in a way that would make him proud.
After college, I was living on Long Island at my parents' house and commuting to New York City, often not getting home until 2:30 a.m. Night after night, my dad would wait up for me. He'd sit with me, have a late bite and we'd talk so I could feel some sense of normalcy. He knew I was miserable at work and him waiting up to just to make me smile meant everything.
He also had a larger-than-life persona. So big, actually, he had his own holiday: St. Mike's Day. Every Friday before Memorial Day, my dad and his two friends—also named Mike—took the day off and celebrated life. That meant breakfast at the diner, a round of golf, volleyball and dinner on the beach where our families and friends joined in on the fun. It's a tradition my friends and I have carried on. My dad was the pioneer, teaching us that everybody should celebrate themselves, family and friendship.
-Zach Bergman
Frank Sirico was one of a kind. A fantastic mix of strength, sarcasm, silliness and sincerity.
In the days after his death, I received so many calls from his friends around the country, from people he'd known most of his life to those he'd known only a few months.
What struck me was the common theme: They told me that my dad helped them so much, whether that was going with them to buy a car or helping people build their businesses. (One even said they wouldn't have a successful business without my dad!)
I could tell you a thousand stories of the pranks, the fun times, the family trips, the long talks, the fish dance (that's what he'd do on the boat to bring good fishing juju). But the impact he had on others is what I think is important. He wanted those around him to thrive. He was always there to give advice or to lend a hand. And that's how I try to live my life.
Today, I am part of a few COVID grief groups and through them, I have become part of a project to help keep those we've lost to COVID alive, co-authoring the book Voices-19: Their Legacies Live On. It's my way of keeping his memory alive and to let others know the man who COVID stole from us.
-Gina Sirico
I always knew my dad was an incredible man. He worked one of the most demanding jobs in Hollywood but was always able to make it home for dinner and travel to watch his kids play sports—all the while being present as a husband.
I took his actions for granted, thinking that was what a dad was supposed to do. Now that I'm a father, I've realized just how much he did—and I struggle to understand how one man could really do it all. But my dad was a modern-day superhero, capable of superhuman love, effort, empathy and compassion. Every day I wake up and do whatever I can to continue to make him proud.
This picture isn't of us, but it is an amazing representation of his amazing, fun and magnetic personality.
-Brad Hendrickson
I am overwhelmed with incredible memories when I think about my dad, Steve. There's the time when I visited him in Wyoming, when he took my twin brother and me to Europe and when we saw our favorite band, Tenacious D, at Red Rocks. But what I think about the most are the small things, like the way he answered the phone by saying "Hello, Pickles!"
My dad wasn't the life of the party. He was the party. He took his big, bold personality everywhere, always hoping everyone had fun, whether that meant turning the music up or acting like a goofball to get a laugh out of you.
Grief is complicated. Not having my dad around is difficult, especially when planning important future events. Although he's not around physically, I'm still creating memories with him because he is always with me. His memory and legacy inspire me to live boldly.
-Blair Kirkbaumer
Jay Zeiger made his presence known. From loudly announcing in a movie theater, "Are there any seats?!" to dancing around the house in his underwear singing, "I'm too sexy for my body, so sexy it hurts," he knew how to make you laugh—and also cringe.
He was, excuse my language, the f--king best. My dad was extremely hard working and successful, but he never let that take time away from family. He never missed a baseball game, dance recital or dinner at home.
When you lose someone, your life feels completely out of control—and I never want anyone to feel the way my 9-year-old self did. Back then, the only way I could make sense of it was to try fighting cancer, even if that meant raising just $1. Today it means carrying on my dad's legacy by supporting patients and families at one of the largest cancer hospitals in the country.
My father showed us what strength truly means and always taught us the importance of giving back. Even when battling cancer, he participated in the Pan Mass Challenge, a 170-plus-mile bike race that raises money for the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute. My brother and I were lucky to follow his pedal strokes by completing the same race 17 years later.
-Emma Zeiger
The greatest gift my dad ever gave me was sending me to sleepaway camp. As for the greatest lesson my dad ever instilled in me, that was to give back to others.
My dad died when I was 11. And when I was 23, I discovered the best possible way to honor his memory: Experience Camps, a free, weeklong camp for children who have experienced the death of a sibling, parent or primary caregiver. When my dad died, I didn't have anyone who got it. My reality was so different than that of my peers in so many ways. Now, as a volunteer counselor at Experience Camps, I see lives change in front of my eyes. Grieving kids get to play, laugh, dance, cry and share, all while knowing they are supported by a community of peers and counselors who do get it. It is truly the privilege of my life to honor my dad's memory in this way.
-Julia Ring
One of my fondest memories is being at Yosemite National Park with my family. My dad woke us up saying, "Get your swimsuits on. We are going to take our family picture for our Christmas card!" Mind you, it was winter and there was snow on the ground. When we got to our destination, he said, "Hop out, we are taking our photo here!" And yes, you got that right: We had no shoes on, just our swimsuits, and took a Christmas card photo in the snow. This sums up my dad: spontaneous, goofy, hilarious, adventurous and always ready for some fun.
There was never a dull moment, from camping trips and hiking to serving breakfast to the homeless and helping kids in the foster care system. We played pranks on my mom, we watched movies and he held my hand. My dad lived by loving, caring and serving. And I am so grateful I had a front row seat. Dad's life was about Jesus—and that will be how I will carry on his legacy.
I am forever grateful for him, the greatest gift I have received.
-Vianca McSwain
Keeping my dad's memory alive has given me peace during times when I wish he was physically with me.
Whether it was having a picture of him pinned to my marathon tank top as I crossed the finish line in his honor or walking across the stage at my college graduation on Father's Day 2014, these special nods to him are great reminders that he is still with me. For my wedding ceremony last December, my wife and I put a white rose in memory of my dad on a special chair in the front row. I also wore his favorite watch.
I know making new memories does not have to stop. My dad is always there no matter what.
-Vince Nava
When my dad died, I was only 17. I couldn't talk about him afterward because it felt too painful. This year, my mom passed away, and now that I've lost my two best friends, I tell everyone about them and share their stories, so that they live on.
I always admired my dad and wanted to be like him when I grew up. I used to stay up late, avoiding homework, just talking to him about life. He could make anyone laugh—and feel loved.
My mom once told me I was a dreamer just like him, a writer and an artist. Now, I keep his legacy alive by writing, creating and dreaming too.
-Alex Piscatelli
I have a lot of memories with my father, but my fondest are of us watching movies together and enjoying each other's time. I want people to remember my dad as a giving person: He was always helping someone out. His giving spirit was one of my favorite things about him.
-Taylor Bryant