Today at Meijer, I stopped to grab shaving cream and overheard a mom teaching her daughter how to shave her legs for the first time—what razor to choose, how to do it, all the little details. And like always, I felt that familiar pang in my chest. Even after 14 years without my own mom, moments like that still sting. You’d think by now I’d be used to it, but the ache never really goes away.
But this time, instead of just sadness, I couldn’t help but laugh a little—because it instantly brought me back to the summer after my mom passed away, when I had that same conversation… with my dad.
I’ll never forget it. Some girls at summer camp teased me about my hairy legs, and I finally worked up the courage to ask my dad for help. I was mortified, but he handled it like a champ. He turned off the TV, walked me into the bathroom, put a fresh blade in his razor, handed me his shaving cream, and patiently taught me how to shave.
Single dads don’t get nearly enough credit. Mine sure doesn’t. He filled both roles so seamlessly that I never felt like I was missing out on anything. He handled everything—periods, shaving, broken hearts, catty girlfriends—you name it. And he never once made me feel embarrassed or like I couldn’t come to him.
So Dad, here’s a big, public THANK YOU. Thank you for never being “too much of a man” to be both my dad and my mom. Thank you for stepping into roles no father expects to play, and for doing it with love and grace. Growing up without a mom wasn’t easy—but growing up with you made it more than okay.
I love you, Dad. ❤️
Credit: Tiana Sheehan
