Honoring My Dad's Complicated Legacy on Father's Day: Gratitude for the Lessons, Love for the Man

On holidays, I like to reflect on the past and unearth what brought me to this present moment in life. Today is no different.

Father's Day has always brought up mixed emotions for me, and because of that, I felt the need to dive deeply into what this day brings to the surface. As it has so many times before, writing has become my catharsis.

Normally, I would keep something this personal to myself. But I felt nudged by the universe to share it in the hope that it might help or inspire others on their own healing journey. That has always been aligned with my heart.

Fair warning: this is deeply personal and, as such, raw in its honesty. If it triggers something in you and you're not ready to explore that healing within yourself, I completely understand. You have to be ready to walk into the fire and have the courage to face it. I have deep empathy for that journey and trust that you'll explore it when you're ready—or, perhaps more accurately, when you're called to and willing to take the trust fall.

With that said, I want to offer one more disclaimer: my feelings and narratives come solely from my perspective. I have family members who may view our upbringing differently, and I not only respect that—I celebrate it. Truth is experienced through individual lenses, and everyone has their own perspective through which they view the world.

Now, back to those mixed emotions.

My relationship with my father was one of the most formative relationships of my life. It was also the relationship that created the greatest need for healing in adulthood.

To say it was complicated would be a gross understatement.

I grew up in a verbally and physically abusive household. When my dad passed away several years ago, I realized that somewhere deep in my subconscious, the opportunity for him to take ownership of his actions, explain why, and apologize for his behavior had passed with him.

Although I had worked through numerous healing processes and methodologies over the years, his passing unearthed a realization: I still had a great deal of healing left to do.

I had a lot of work ahead of me before I could see him as a human being carrying wounds from his own childhood—wounds he never learned how to heal. You know the old adage: hurt people hurt people.

I had to learn to see him through the lens of unconditional love and recognize the humanity within him while continuing to heal my own emotional wounds in the process.

And through that healing, I discovered something unexpected.

I found immense gratitude for the lessons he taught me—both through his life and through his passing.

Without my dad, I would not be the person I am today.

While I could probably write an entire book about this relationship, I'd like to share some of the highlights.

Strength, Resilience, and Finding My Voice

Dad taught me strength, resilience, and how to use my own voice.

Growing up in a chaotic household makes it incredibly difficult to stand up for yourself when you're afraid of physical retribution. When I was around 11 years old (that's my best guess), I decided I was tired of being scared. I realized I was going to get into trouble no matter what I did, so I decided to take a stand whenever I could.

That manifested in a lot of different ways—from attending a Thanksgiving gathering and secretly hoping someone would notice the fat lip he had given me and do something about it, to looking Dad in the eye and speaking my raw truth about how I felt regarding what he said or did, regardless of how he might react.

Many times, that also meant dealing with the fallout from my siblings' reactions because I refused to play small in the face of Dad.

While reading that may be difficult, the honest truth is that, given what I've faced in my life and the immense strength it has required to navigate it all, I truly believe I would have caved without those childhood experiences.

They built the foundation for my backbone, my resilience, and my stubborn refusal to give up.

Without Dad's gift—however unconventional it may have been—I don't think I would be even 25% as strong as I am today.

And there is an innate beauty in that strength.

Learning to Balance Logic and Emotion

He also taught me—whether he meant to or not—how to balance logic and emotion.

Living every day as though you're walking on proverbial eggshells around someone whose emotional roller coaster has tremendous influence over your world cannot help but teach you emotional regulation.

At some point, you have to decide—yes, decide—how much you're going to allow someone else's emotions and behaviors to dictate your internal world.

I am an incredibly emotionally sensitive and empathetic person. As such, I often operate like a giant sponge, absorbing the energy around me at a rapid pace.

That's where logic comes in.

I could either drown in toxic energy or decide to regulate my own emotions and energy independently of someone else's chaos. I could learn to rise above it.

That learning process took years.

Step by step.

Process by process.

The impact of that environment on my self-worth, my understanding of love, what I believed I deserved, my confidence, and my self-image was deeply embedded in my subconscious.

It took years to pull those weeds, uncover those layers, and remove those beliefs at the root.

My gratitude for that process is immense because every step through that difficult quicksand brought me closer to my truest self.

It gave me the courage to see myself clearly—with 20/20 vision instead of through the fogged lenses I'd worn for so long.

It allowed for a level of raw honesty and self-acceptance that I don't believe would have unfolded had I not been forced to learn so many lessons about loving myself.

And my relationship with Dad gifted me that.

Understanding the Duality

The more healing I allowed myself to do by truly feeling the mixed emotions I carried about my dad, the more the darkness began to turn into light.

Because I gave myself permission to acknowledge that he could be a jackass who loved me very much, I began to understand that both things could be true at the same time.

I began to understand his duality.

I came to see that he loved me in the best way he knew how.

He started girls' sports teams in Saudi Arabia because I was fed up with having to play on boys' teams simply because I wanted to play sports. He bought me a motorcycle because I wanted to ride after he bought one for my brother for Christmas.

I was able to see that even though he grew up in a household where men were viewed as the dominant authority figures, he still took actions that challenged that programming in his own way.

He always gave me a hard time about working too much and spending too much time in the office. Ironically, I later realized that lesson came from watching him do the exact same thing.

Despite his controlling tendencies, I also came to realize that he respected me more—and that our relationship improved—because I used my voice and stood up to him.

By my adult years, he knew I wasn't going to tolerate his nonsense. To his credit, most of the time he adjusted his behavior and communication style when interacting with me.

Seeing the Humanity

It was only through my healing journey that I was able to fully empathize with the humanity in him.

Yes, he was my dad.

But he was also a flawed man dealing with his own challenges and coping the best way he knew how.

He was a man trying to support a family while carrying the suppressed emotions that came with watching the love of his life become progressively quadriplegic.

He was the first person in his family to move overseas in search of a better life rather than remain within the same five-mile radius as his eight siblings and their families.

He was taking risks.

He was carrying burdens.

And he was doing the best he could with the tools he had available to him.

Understanding that didn't excuse his behavior.

It simply helped me understand it.

And there is a profound difference between the two.

The Gift of Adventure, Adaptability, and Grit

In taking the risk to move overseas, Dad also gifted me a love of adventure, culture, and travel.

Because he indirectly worked for the airlines, I was able to fly standby throughout my childhood. That experience sparked a passion that has stayed with me throughout my life.

Travel remains a huge part of who I am.

I love learning about new people, cultures, places, and experiences.

Even the challenges became lessons.

Getting bumped from a flight in Europe with only $300 in my pocket—money that was supposed to sustain me through an entire semester at boarding school—taught me adaptability, resilience, and, frankly, how to figure things out independently.

There is no greater teacher than lived experience.

Dad was the conduit to many of those experiences.

Without the limitations and challenges that accompanied them, I don't believe I would possess nearly the same level of grit, gumption, creativity, or resourcefulness when faced with obstacles.

Those formative experiences remain a foundational part of who I am today.

And through my healing journey, I've learned how to leverage that foundation from a place of abundance rather than scarcity.

I truly don't think I could have done that without my complex relationship with him.

Learning How Things Work

Dad was fascinated by the mechanics of how things worked.

As a kid, much to my chagrin, I spent countless hours helping him repair our old Chevy Blazer or build a wheelchair ramp for my mom so she could access the front porch of our house.

Every project came complete with endless drawings, diagrams, and explanations about how all the pieces fit together.

At the time, I mostly just wanted to go play instead of doing what felt like endless labor.

But today, I appreciate those lessons immensely.

They've served me well more times than I can count.

In one memorable instance, I even diagnosed the mechanical issue preventing a date's Jeep from starting—much to his dismay, as he believed that was supposed to be the "man's job."

I couldn't help but laugh.

Men and their preconceived notions about manhood still make me giggle.

While I don't particularly enjoy working on cars, being comfortable with tools and understanding how things function has proven incredibly useful throughout my life.

And I still create visual diagrams whenever I'm trying to understand complex topics, systems, or philosophies.

Dad taught me that.

The Teacher Everyone Loved

As difficult as it was to live with the chaos and violence at home, on the days Dad was good, he was amazing.

He was a teacher, a coach, a mentor, and a trusted confidant.

All of the neighborhood kids viewed him as a safe space.

He was the adult they sought out when they were struggling with their parents, facing personal challenges, or simply needed someone to listen.

He wasn't just a sounding board.

He was someone they deeply respected.

His lack of judgment, his willingness to listen, and his genuine desire to help made him beloved by countless students and young people.

Many considered him their favorite teacher.

Even after his passing, the impact he had on others remained evident.

One former student—now in his mid-thirties—drove more than twelve hours to attend his funeral and pay his respects.

That's how much he meant to people.

For many years, I resented him for that.

I struggled to understand how he could show up with so much authenticity, compassion, and heart for everyone else while seeming unable to do the same for his own children.

At least, that's how it felt to me.

Today, I understand things differently.

I believe he always showed up with heart.

It was simply more complicated with us.

The people outside our home were easier relationships. They didn't carry the same history, expectations, triggers, wounds, and emotional complexity.

Reflecting on him as a human being allowed me to learn that lesson.

I had to release some of my own ego, hurt, and baggage before I could truly see him for who he was.

An unhealed man who loved deeply and genuinely believed in helping others.

He simply didn't always know how to show his heart to the people closest to him.

Again, that doesn't justify his actions.

It simply helps me understand them.

Just as I spent years believing he couldn't see me for who I truly was, I now recognize that I couldn't fully see him either.

And I am grateful for that lesson as well.

Expanding My Capacity for Love and Forgiveness

And in dissecting my complicated relationship with Dad, I received the gift of growth and evolution.

In understanding his humanity more fully, I also expanded my capacity to love unconditionally and to forgive.

Truth, ownership, respect, and reciprocal love are non-negotiables in any relationship I choose to engage in.

There are many people on this planet with whom I will never have complete alignment, and I've learned that part of loving unconditionally means accepting that reality.

Some people you can love deeply and genuinely wish the very best for—from afar.

Because unconditional love means allowing yourself to be exactly who you are while allowing others the same freedom, without attaching expectations to who they should be.

It also means understanding that loving yourself unconditionally requires honoring your own non-negotiables in every relationship, regardless of its label.

Everyone is self-sovereign.

Everyone is navigating their own healing journey.

Sometimes it's simply a matter of recognizing where alignment exists and where it doesn't.

Honoring the Lessons

As I mentioned earlier, there are countless things I could say about what I learned from my dad and what I am grateful for because of him.

On Father's Day, I wanted to honor those lessons and express my gratitude for the role he played in shaping the person I have become.

I love my dad.

And despite the complexity of our relationship, I would not be the person I am today without him.

My hope, if you're still reading, is that this reflection inspires you to identify the lessons and legacy that were gifted to you through your own relationship with "Father"—whatever that relationship may look like.

Take a moment to honor those lessons for yourself.

Because sometimes the greatest gifts we receive aren't found in perfect relationships.

Sometimes they're found in the healing, the growth, and the wisdom we gain from navigating imperfect ones.