A heartfelt reflection on Father’s Day, from my healing soul
Dear gentle heart,
If you’ve found your way to these words, it’s not by accident.
There is something sacred in you, tender, searching, perhaps quietly aching.
And today, I want to speak directly to that part still asking to be seen.
The part of you that has waited, longed, and wondered what it might feel like to be held in the kind of love that never came.
This reflection is for the one still waiting for a father’s love.
It’s not a story of blame. It’s a soft space for truth. For healing. For coming home to yourself. Let’s walk through it together, with compassion and light.
My dear soul,
Today, I want to share with you one of the most profound and often unspoken wounds a person can carry, the absence or loss of a father’s presence.
And then, there are those whose fathers were present, loving, and deeply cherished, whose absence now is felt in the hollow space they have left behind.
For you, my loved Soul, this day might carry a different kind of ache: the longing to hear their voice again, to hold their hand, to say one more “I love you. “Grief is love that has nowhere to go. And missing someone who was once your anchor is a sacred form of love that continues beyond time.
Your pain is valid. Your memories matter. And your heart, though aching, still beats with the echo of a love that shaped you.
As the world celebrated Father’s not long ago, I found myself once again feeling the tender ache of something I never had. And I know I am not alone.
Who is your father?
He is more than the man who gave you life; he is the one meant to hold your hand and gently guide you into the world. He is the first bridge from your mother’s nurturing arms into the vastness of life. Through him, ideally, we learn about safety, structure, boundaries, confidence, and belief in our dreams. He is meant to teach us that we can explore and succeed, and that we are held and protected while doing so.
But what happens when that hand was never there?
What happens when the most important masculine figure in your life has been emotionally unavailable, absent, or incapable of offering the soul-deep love we all need, not to thrive, but to survive?
When a father’s love is missing, the child doesn’t stop seeking; it just seeks elsewhere.
We chase love in places and people who unknowingly mirror the shape of our wound. We become entangled in relationships that echo the ache of the little girl or boy within us, the one still hoping to be seen, held, and unconditionally accepted. We don’t always seek a mature connection; we seek the lost affection, the protection, the validation that was never offered to our soul.
And here lies the sacred truth:
We are not broken, we are longing to return to the love that was meant to anchor us, to protect us, to tell us we mattered.
It was never about the other. It has always been about the part of us still waiting to be met.
And still, no one ever feels enough. Because the one person our soul craves cannot be replaced.
This ache, the father wound, is not a simple grief. It is a spiritual trauma. It shapes our self-worth, our sense of safety in the world, and our ability to receive love. It whispers:
“You are not good enough. You must work hard to be loved. You must not upset anyone to be kept. “These silent beliefs live deep within us, often unnoticed, until life brings them to the surface through heartbreak, abandonment, or even joy that feels undeserved. The sacred question is: What do we do when we were never given what we needed?
We come back home.
We turn inward, not to fill the role of the father, but to become the guardian our inner child has always needed. We hold our own hand. We offer love to the shadowed corners of our heart that have been forgotten. We become the safety we were once denied.
My dear Soul, it’s not easy. Healing this wound is not a destination; it is a journey. And that journey is often painful, confusing, and lonely. But it is sacred.
I have spent years doing inner work, and still, on days like this, I feel the ache rise again. Not because I haven’t healed, but because healing is a spiral, it returns with layers. The difference is, now I no longer run from it. I sit with it. I hold space for the little girl in me who still wonders what it would have felt like to be chosen, protected, and loved by her father. I tell her, with all the love in my heart:
Now, as I care for the little girl within me, the one who had to stay quiet and become “good” to feel loved, I whisper to her gently:
“You are safe now. You are worthy. I’m here, and I will not leave you again.“
I want you to know this, too: your inner child is still with you. Still hoping to be seen. Still waiting to be held. Still longing for someone to say: “It’s not your fault. You are so loved.“
And here I am, writing these words with my heart wide open, just in case you need them.
“You are not alone. You never were.“
This is how we begin to heal, not by denying the pain, but by giving it a sacred place to be held. If you felt the absence of a father’s love, if your soul ached quietly while others celebrated, know this: you are not alone. I see you. I feel you. And I honour the brave work your heart is doing by simply continuing to beat.
This wound may have shaped you, but it does not define you.
You are more than the love you didn’t receive. You are worthy, whole, and so deeply loved, exactly as you are.
And my love…
If your chest still carries that old, familiar ache, know this: You are not too much, or too broken, or too late. You are exactly where you need to be, on a sacred path of becoming. The absence of a father’s love may have left an imprint, but it does not get to write your ending. Because now, you are the one holding your own heart. You are the one whispering love into your own wounds.
Let this be your truth:
“I am worthy of love that does not leave.”
“I am allowed to take up space, even with my pain.”
” I am not alone on this healing path”.
“I am light, even when I’m still learning how to shine”.
Take a breath, gentle soul. Feel the love that is holding you, even now, through these words. Let it reach the child within you and remind them:
“You are seen.”
“You are safe”.
“You are so, so loved.“
And may every step forward feel like coming home.
