Grief, Grace, and Father’s Day

An Open Letter to Those Without a Father on Father’s Day

This may not be the kind of post you expect to find on our blog. But at Transcend, we believe in honoring the full spectrum of what it means to care for ourselves—body, mind, and spirit. While much of our work centers on the physical, our mission goes deeper. We are a space for whole-being care, and grief is part of that journey, too.

Dear Heart,

If you’re moving through this Father’s Day without your dad, whether it’s your first or your twentieth, this letter is for you.

Maybe you’re not sure how to feel. Maybe you feel too much.
Maybe the day just feels a little quieter than it used to.

Whatever is true for you, it's valid. Grief doesn’t follow a script. It doesn’t expire after a year or two. It simply changes shape. And over time, we learn to live alongside it, and sometimes it even grows because of it.

This will be my first Father’s Day without my dad earth-side. And while part of me is trying to prepare, the truth is, nothing really does.

What’s surprises me most is how grief shows up in the quietest ways: the soft echo of him calling me “kiddo.”, the faint melody of his whistle drifting through memory, the scent of leather and dirt from a day spent outside, the sudden stillness where a phone call would’ve been, and the absence of a simple text “just checking in”, signed “Dad,” as if there could ever be confusion about who it was from. These small, sacred moments are where he lives now. Not gone, just changed.

But alongside the ache, something else rises too - gratitude. Gratitude for the love we shared and for the way he shaped who I am.

So, on Father’s Day, I will not force joy. I will not be rushing through the day or pretending it’s just another Sunday. I will let it be exactly what it is - layered, tender, and mine. I’ll sit with what’s here and tend to myself in small sacred ways that remind me I’m still here. Still healing. Still whole even in my missing.

Because grief, at its core, is love that has shifted form. And self-care can be the vessel that holds it.

If you’re in this place too, if Father’s Day feels a bit tender, know that you are not alone. Whether you’re remembering, celebrating, aching, laughing, or just trying to stay grounded… it all belongs.

Let yourself feel what you feel. Let the day be what it is.
And let that be enough.

In stillness, in spirit, in heart,

Kristy

P.S. If you find yourself needing a quiet space to land on Father’s Day, or in the days ahead, Transcend is here. We’re more than a spa, we’re a soft place to come back to yourself. Your grief, your joy, your becoming - all of you is welcome here.