Father’s Day arrives quietly, and then everywhere at once. The signs in the hardware store. The brunch ads. The texts from the kids about what to get Dad. For those of us grieving a father, a child, a husband, or a father figure, the third Sunday in June can feel less like a celebration and more like a long, public reminder of what is missing from the table.
If this is your first Father’s Day after loss, please know: there is no “right” way to do this day. Whatever you are feeling — sadness, anger, numbness, dread, even unexpected tenderness — is part of grief.
For more than two decades, my mother, Dr. Gloria Horsley, and I have walked alongside thousands of bereaved people through Open to Hope. After my 17-year-old brother Scott and cousin Matthew died together in a car accident, our family learned, slowly and imperfectly, how to navigate the holidays that arrive whether we feel ready or not. Six years ago my own Father died of medical complications following a back surgery. This made Father’s Day that more difficult for me. Below are the strategies that have helped me, my clients, my listeners, and my own family navigate our way through Father’s Day.
Why Father’s Day Hits Differently After Loss
Holidays magnify grief. We know this from the research on bereavement, and we know it from lived experience. Father’s Day is particularly hard because fatherhood touches so many kinds of love at once: the love we received from our fathers, the love we shared with a partner who was also a dad, the love of a stepfather or grandfather or chosen father figure who shaped who we became.
Grief on Father’s Day can show up as sadness, but it can also arrive as irritability, exhaustion, anxiety, anger, or a flat numbness that surprises you. Some grievers describe a kind of dread that begins to build in early June. Others are blindsided on the morning of the holiday itself. Both reactions are normal. There is no “right” way to feel on Father’s Day after loss.
What helps is to try and stop dreading the day and start preparing for it.
8 Compassionate Ways to Cope with Grief on Father’s Day
- Acknowledge the Day Instead of Pretending It Isn’t Coming
One of the most common pieces of advice I give grieving clients is this: do not try to wake up on Father’s Day morning and “see how you feel.” Avoidance almost always makes grief louder, not quieter.
Instead, gently acknowledge the day in advance. Mark it on your calendar. Tell the people closest to you, “Father’s Day is going to be hard for me this year.” Naming the day takes some of its power away.
- Plan Something. Anything.
Grievers often tell me they want Father’s Day to “just pass.” In my experience, an unplanned holiday is the hardest kind. The hours stretch, the silence grows, and grief fills the empty space.
You do not need to plan a big day. You just need a plan. Maybe it is a morning walk somewhere your dad loved. Maybe it is a quiet brunch with one trusted friend. Maybe it is a movie marathon. Whatever it is, decide in advance. (Many of these same principles work for any holiday — see our practical strategies for holiday survival for more.)
- Create a Ritual of Remembrance
Rituals are one of the most powerful grief tools we have. A ritual can be as simple as lighting a candle in the morning, saying his name out loud, and sitting with a photograph for a few minutes.
Other Father’s Day rituals my clients have found meaningful:
- Visiting his grave or a place that felt sacred to him.
- Cooking his signature meal and sharing it with someone.
- Writing him a letter and reading it aloud.
- Wearing one of his shirts, his watch, his hat.
- Watching the team he watched, drinking the coffee he drank.
- Making a donation in his name.
The point is not the size of the ritual. The point is that you marked the day on purpose, with love.
- Curate Your Social Media (or Step Away Completely)
Social media on Father’s Day is a minefield. Photo after photo of dads and grandkids and “best dad in the world” posts can be deeply triggering for grieving hearts.
Give yourself permission to step away. Mute, unfollow, or simply log out for the weekend. If stepping away completely feels too isolating, follow grief support pages and bereavement communities instead — many readers tell us those posts feel like a lifeline on Father’s Day.
- Reach Out to Someone Who “Gets It”
Grief is much harder to carry alone. One of the most healing things you can do on Father’s Day is reach out to someone who shares your kind of loss. A sibling. Another bereaved parent. A friend who has also lost their dad.
If you don’t yet have a grief community, our Open to Hope podcast library has hundreds of free episodes for every kind of loss, including conversations specifically about grieving a father. You are not weak for needing other people on this day. You are wise.
- Honor Yourself, Not Just the Person You Lost
On Father’s Day after loss, you are not only honoring the man who died. You are also honoring the version of you who loved him, lost him, and is still standing.
Take a moment to acknowledge the strength it has taken to get here. Speak to yourself the way you would speak to a friend who is hurting. Cancel the plans that drain you. Self-compassion is not selfish. On Father’s Day, it is a survival skill.
- Allow Grief and Joy at the Same Table
A common worry I hear from grieving clients is, “If I laugh today, am I betraying him?” The answer, every time, is no.
Grief is not a measure of love. Joy in the middle of grief is not a betrayal — it is evidence that you are still alive, still capable of feeling, still carrying the love your person poured into you. If a memory of your dad makes you smile, smile. If the next memory makes you cry, cry. Both can be true in the same hour. (For more on this paradox, see How Grief Becomes Your Greatest Superpower.)
- Do Something Kind in His Honor
One of the most healing rituals I know is the act of doing something kind in your loved one’s name. Buy a stranger coffee. Send a card to another bereaved person. Volunteer for an hour. Mentor a young person who never had a steady father figure.
When we channel love that has nowhere else to go into an act of kindness, two things happen at once. The world becomes a little better. And our grief, for a brief moment, becomes a force for good.
A Word for Those Who Lost Their Father
If Father’s Day arrives this year without your dad, please know that the bond between a child and their father does not end at death. The lessons he taught you, the way he laughed, the small phrases you can still hear in his voice — all of that is still part of you, and always will be. (For a deeper exploration of continuing bonds, see Connecting with Departed Loved Ones.)
A Word for Bereaved Mothers and Stepmothers Raising Children
If you are now raising children without their father, Father’s Day carries an extra weight that few people see. You are doing the impossible work of holding their grief and yours at the same time. Please be especially kind to yourself this year.
Many bereaved families find it healing to create a small Father’s Day ritual together with their children — looking at photos, telling stories, doing something Dad loved. Letting children grieve out loud, in age-appropriate ways, is one of the most powerful things you can do for them. They need to know that the love isn’t gone. It just lives somewhere new now.
A Word for Those Who Lost a Child Who Was a Father
If you are grieving a son or daughter who was a father themselves, Father’s Day can fold layers of loss together — the loss of your child, the loss of the dad your grandchildren still need. Please take care of yourself, and lean on the people who will support you. Your motherhood and grand motherhood are sacred.
Hope on the Other Side of This Day
I cannot promise that Father’s Day will ever feel completely easy again. But I can tell you, after walking with thousands of grievers and walking through my own loss, that this day can change. It can become a day where grief and gratitude live side by side. It can become a day you no longer dread, even if you never stop missing the man you love.
Whatever Father’s Day looks like for you this year, please remember: You are not broken. You are grieving someone you loved with your whole heart. That is not a problem to be solved. It is a love story that is still being written.
Dr. Heidi Horsley is a licensed psychologist, adjunct professor at Columbia University, and co-host of the Open to Hope podcast and cable television show. After losing her 17-year-old brother Scott and cousin Matthew together in a car accident, she has dedicated her career to helping bereaved families find hope after loss.
