Dad

Morning friend.

As I write this, a sourdough loaf is baking in the oven.

My left leg is sat in a protective boot after finally discovering yesterday that I broke it more than a week ago.

Apparently most people don't continue training on a broken foot.

The nurse seemed slightly confused by that.

Possibly concerned.

In fairness, I thought it was a tendon strain.

That's probably a story for another Sunday.

Yesterday my boys asked me what I wanted to do for Father's Day.

The answer came quickly.

I want us to go to the gym together.

Then a sauna.

Then home for a family brunch.

After that I'll indulge in one of my guilty pleasures and spend an hour catching up on the week's news and politics before getting stuck into some work building something I care deeply about.

Then we’ll hang out together for the afternoon until the boys feel that burning need to break free and find their friends.

A pretty ordinary day.

Exactly how I like it.

Because if I'm honest, all I ever really wanted was a family of my own.

I wanted to be a husband.

I wanted to be a father.

Perhaps because my own experience of fatherhood wasn't the one I would have chosen.

My father left when I was young.

We haven't spoken for many years.

For a long time I carried that around with me.

Looking back now, I can see that absence shaped more of my life than I realised at the time.

It was one of the reasons I found my way to the Royal Marines.

I was searching for belonging.

Searching for connection.

Searching, if I'm honest, for an answer to a question I couldn't properly articulate.

What does it mean to be a man?

It's a question many young boys are still trying to answer today.

Perhaps that's one of the reasons so many young men appear lost.

We see it in declining educational outcomes.

We see it in poor mental health.

We see it in the search for belonging, purpose and identity.

I don't pretend that fathers are the answer to every problem society faces.

But I do believe good fathers matter.

More than we sometimes realise.

I spent much of my adult life before starting a family away from home.

Deployments.

Operations.

Travel.

Work.

But since becoming a dad I've tried to be present in my boys' lives.

Not perfect.

Present.

There's a difference.

When they were young I took a year away from work so my wife could return to her career.

I loved it.

I also found it harder than I expected.

Looking after two young children all day is a privilege.

It's also relentless, and monotonous.

There were days when I felt I had lost a sense of purpose outside of being Dad.

I suspect many parents understand exactly what I mean.

The truth is I've got plenty wrong over the years.

More than my boys probably realise.

The guilt that comes with getting it wrong can be brutal.

Many mornings crying in the car on the way to work after telling them off during the only hour we would share together that day.

When you've spent years worrying that one day your relationship with your own children could somehow follow the same path as the relationship you had with your father it sits somewhere in the shadows of your thinking.

Relationships don't survive on good intentions.

They survive on time, attention and presence.

The older I get, the more I see fatherhood as far more than providing and protecting.

Those things matter of course.

Most good men think about them every day.

But they are only the beginning.

A father's job is also to be counsel.

To be an example.

To demonstrate through action what values look like when nobody is watching.

To show young men how to carry themselves through adversity.

How to treat people.

How to take responsibility.

How to keep their word.

How to love.

Not through lectures.

Boys often understand their fathers long after they've stopped needing them.

Through example.

The phrase I've found myself thinking about a lot recently is "Show Up Strong."

The older I get, the more I realise that is really what fatherhood asks of us.

To show up strong for our children.

To show up strong for our partners.

To show up strong for ourselves.

And to show up strong for the communities that depend upon us.

Not perfectly but consistently.

Today is Father's Day.

For the men reading this who are fathers, I hope you allow yourself to enjoy it.

For one day only, surrender the responsibility of fixing things.

Let somebody else take care of you.

Accept the card.

Accept the breakfast.

Accept the badly wrapped gift.

Accept the hug.

Because tomorrow the job begins again.

And it remains one of the most important jobs in the world.

Before we go any further let’s debrief together:

What have your children learned from watching you recently?

Your mission today (if you choose to accept it):

Tell your father you love him.

If that's not possible, spend ten minutes thinking about the example you're leaving for those who call you Dad.

That's enough for now.

More next Sunday.

Mike

Hold the Line · Do the Hard Things