This Father’s Day, many families will fire up the grill, exchange ties and bottles of whiskey, honoring the steadfast presence of the men who raised them. We recognize the sacrifices made by fathers—their hard work, protective nature, and quiet affection. Yet, for numerous dads, especially those who’ve worn uniforms or dealt with unseen struggles, the most precious gift might be a genuine moment of understanding.
I was 24 when I led my infantry platoon into Iraq, crossing the border from Kuwait and entering cities filled with uncertainty about the future of war and our identities. After returning, I transitioned to a Wall Street job, expanded my family, and tried to become the man my father envisioned. But the weight I carried—the marks of an unseen war, the trauma from a home invasion—never truly faded. For a time, I thought I could manage it.
But, as they say, what’s buried often finds its way back. Sometimes it surfaces as anger, or maybe even avoidance. In those crucial moments when your child needs you present, you might realize you’re not fully there, emotionally.
In my book, “Downriver: A Reminiscence of the Warrior Poet,” I not only explore my own past but also aim to illustrate that trauma doesn’t only afflict soldiers. It follows them into fatherhood, careers, marriages, and those quiet family dinners. PTSD isn’t always loud; sometimes it manifests as a subtle emotional distance.
And it doesn’t just affect veterans.
Over the last 25 years, American families have endured a slew of relentless shocks: 9/11 and the ensuing wars, the 2008 financial crisis, a global pandemic, and escalating social anxiety. This mental health crisis is pervasive, and while discussions often center around teens and young adults, fathers from previous generations grapple with different challenges.
I used to believe I had it all under control. I led men in combat, navigated corporate dynamics, always kept moving forward. But when I finally sat down with a counselor in 2011, I struggled to articulate even the simplest feelings. It’s not okay.
Yet, admitting that was a step toward a new beginning.
I’m not trying to suggest all dads are suffering in silence. There are plenty of fathers who thrive, pouring love, wisdom, and presence into their families. But I know too many good men carry burdens they need to share. Some have faced war; others battle addiction, or were influenced by their own absent fathers, leading to concerns about failing their children in unseen ways. And many feel lost in a culture that only measures success by outcomes, not by how they genuinely feel.
This silence creates ripples. When pain goes unspoken, it often manifests painfully in tense marriages, distant parenting, or emotional withdrawal. But it doesn’t have to be that way.
Father’s Day is a celebration, yes, but it can also serve as a chance to initiate real conversations. It’s an opportunity to check in with the men we cherish, offering more than just gratitude. It’s about presence, curiosity, and permission.
So, ask your dad what he’s really doing. Ask about his memories from childhood. Consider what parts of himself he’s still working on or what he’s proud of. And listen—even if it feels a bit awkward or he tries to deflect.
Because healing starts not with fixing things but with acknowledgment. It’s about creating space for those conversations.
When I wrote my book, I wasn’t aiming to be a flawless role model. I just wanted to be honest. I hoped kids would recognize their own struggles and see that it’s possible to come out stronger on the other side. There’s strength in destruction, and even more in rebuilding.
I want other fathers to understand: you’re not alone. You don’t have to bear it all. Whether you’ve worn a uniform or carry the weight of everyday life, those scars are valid and require care.
Honor your dad this Father’s Day. But remember, even those who seem quiet may be carrying unseen burdens. Everyone has their cracks. That doesn’t signify weakness; it’s just life. As Leonard Cohen wrote, “There’s a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”
Happy Father’s Day to all men navigating their lines for their families and those learning how to carry their burdens better.
