Unspoken Bonds: Dearest Father

The role of the father figure is a significant conversation in many parts of the world. We often reflect on how our adult selves are shaped by the relationship we had with our fathers—or as I prefer to say, "Dad." While providing for us, like paying school fees and ensuring a meal is on the table, is a gift many parents give, the emotional support we crave often goes unaddressed. What happens to the emotional needs we expected but never fully experienced?

In my experience, I've met people with a wide range of relationships with their dads—some close, some strained, and some nonexistent. While it's easy to think that this bond, or lack thereof, defines who we become, it's not the full picture. Recently, I read Letters to His Father by Franz Kafka, and it made me wonder: what would we say to our fathers if communication wasn't a barrier? In the following stories, different individuals share what they would tell their fathers, offering a glimpse into the emotions that often go unspoken. "Using characters from wherever"

Huntress

I have a love/hate relationship with my father. At times, we’re best friends, while other times, we feel like the worst of siblings. My connection with him is different from that of my siblings—they often comment on how easily we communicate. But what they may not see is the effort I put into finding better ways to connect with him. It hasn’t come naturally to me; it's something I’ve had to learn, and I wish my siblings understood that.

There are moments when I want to ask him about the dreams he had as a child. Over time, I’ve come to see him not just as my father, but as a human being with his own life perspective. I wonder if he feels life has turned out well for him. Does he enjoy the life he’s living, or does he wish for something different? In all his years, how has he learned to cope with grief as time passes? Despite the ups and downs, I deeply appreciate the relationship we have—he’s played a significant role in shaping who I am today.

WildCat

I've had a complicated relationship with my dad over the years. For much of my childhood, we didn’t have much of a connection—we rarely saw eye to eye. As I’ve gotten older, though, we've slowly grown closer. When I was younger, he often disapproved of my choices, like when I bought my first car. I carried a lot of resentment, especially because his relationship with my sister seemed much stronger.

Looking back, I think empathy could have made a huge difference. I understand that it may not have been something he learned based on his own experiences, but being present and showing empathy would have changed so much.

If I could ask him something, it would be: What does he think his dad could have done better for him? What's one memory of his parents that felt like love to him? And when he retires, what is the one family tradition he hopes will continue in our family?

Banshee

Although my father is still alive, I've never had a relationship with him, and I don’t desire one. It might sound harsh, but his actions have instilled more fear in me than a sense of connection. While I know who he is, we've never bonded in the way a father and child typically would. Fortunately, I’ve had other strong male figures in my life who have been supportive, and I’m incredibly grateful for them. If I were to ask my father anything, it would be why he chose the life he leads.

Achilles

My relationship with my dad has always been more like a brotherhood. We’ve been buddies since I was a young boy, and he’s always been there for me—both mentally and physically. I deeply appreciate everything he’s done, and honestly, I have nothing negative to say about our relationship. He’s always had my back, and when I’m feeling down, he’s the first person I reach out to.

If I could ask him anything, it would be: Are there any secrets you’ve kept from me as your son? What challenges did you face that we never knew about as we were growing up? And finally, are you proud of raising me as your own flesh and blood?

Medusa

I believe my dad is a good man, and he’s been there for me throughout my life. Though we’ve had our share of ups and downs, as I’ve grown older, I’ve gained the grace to see that he did the best he could. When I was younger, I sometimes wished he had understood me better or communicated more openly.

Now, as an adult, I’d love to ask him: What sacrifices did he make to become a father? What things did he get right—or wrong—that he’d advise me to avoid? And what did he do to make his relationship with my mother last through the years?

Enchantress

I’m still afraid of my father, even at this stage in my life, and the thought of having an open, honest conversation with him still fills me with anxiety. Growing up, I often disagreed with how things were, but as I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to understand and even accept what he wanted for us. The real issue wasn’t his intentions, but the way he conveyed them. His approach was often harsh, and that created a distance between us—maybe without him even realizing it.

Now, I’d love to know him beyond just the role of 'father'—to see him as the individual he is. I believe he’s incredibly intelligent and highly disciplined, traits I truly admire. I also think he’s often misunderstood. If I could ask him three things, they would be: Would you have lived your life differently? What genuinely makes you happy? And what life experience taught you the most?

Smallville

Growing up, my father was a man of few words, a silent sentinel in the background of my childhood. His presence was like a steady hum, often distant, but undeniably caring. He communicated not through grand declarations, but through his actions, each one a subtle lesson in the art of living. Though he never had much, he was the alchemist of our family, turning what little we had into enough to ensure that I never felt the sting of lack. His sacrifices were silent, his efforts understated, yet they laid the foundation of my world, solid and unshakeable.

As I've matured, the contours of my father's influence have become clearer, etching themselves into the person I am today. His life, much of which remains a mystery to me, is a tapestry of quiet achievements that I've come to hold in the highest regard. Unbeknownst to him, he has become my greatest role model, the yardstick by which I measure my own successes. In my attempts to mirror his quiet strength, I often feel that my own accomplishments fall short, but this only fuels my admiration for the magnitude of his character. He may not know it, but in the blueprint of his life, I find the inspiration to build my own legacy, one silent, caring act at a time.

It’s funny how, at some point, we start asking questions that reveal who our fathers are as individuals, not just through the lens of fatherhood or societal expectations. We want to understand who they were before life shaped them into who they are now. Someone once asked me, ‘Do you know what your dad wanted to be when he was 12?’—and I realized I didn’t. When I asked my dad, he just laughed and said, ‘Life is hard.’ He didn’t even try to answer the question, and I guess that says a lot in itself. It makes me wonder what kind of dreams he had, what he let go of, and what he fought for. There’s so much to uncover about who our dads were before they became the people we know today.

To New Dads - https://youtu.be/ZaK9Wi5ho0o

To the children - https://youtu.be/r1Fx0tqK5Z4