It's Father's Day in the United States. What is a memory of your father that left the greatest impact on your life?

My dad is a Linux user so I guess being introduced to Linux lmao

Also the time he built a bluetooth boombox. And the time he modified old Roombas to be remote controlled.

Any good memories of my Dad are overwritten by the child abuse. I would've been better off being raised by a single mother. Today is... complicated.

He taught me that relationships only work when everyone is getting out of the relationship what they need. Not just romantic, either. It's been an important lesson that's stuck with me my whole life, it still reminds me to be attentive to other people's needs and not just hide in my own head.

I was a loser who didn't seek a real job until I was 25, and didn't get my shit together and move out until I was 30, but despite all that my dad always loved me and never so much as pushed me. Gentle encouragement from time to time, but always just glad to have his boy around. I live in a different country with my wife now. I have a beautiful daughter and a decent, stable job. We flew my dad out a few years ago and I've never seen him so proud of what I've become. He loved my daughter so much. We took him out to the Canadian Rockies. That trip meant the world to him.

He had a heart attack and died two years ago.

As tragic as it all is, I watched the emotional shit he went through over the way his father raised him, and his father's suicide when I was too young to remember, and he made it a point to make sure I never had to wonder if he loved me or was proud of me. He was.

I hope his soul is flying through the universe somewhere and has seen how much my daughter has grown, and has seen my awesome new house. I sprinkle his ashes around my flower gardens every spring just to keep him around. I hope he's around.

Love you, dad.

When I was starting to hit puberty, my mother got a severe depression, culminating in a suicide attempt. I remember her for the following ten-ish years as just sitting on her chair and reading or in her bed. When she managed to have a shower, it was a great day for her.

My father managed it all. Still had his taxing job, but now doing all the household, cooking, raising the kids and being supportive for my mother. He was there as father, as provider, as a husband. Eventually my mother was healing and back to her former, energetic self.

I don't know how my father did it, honestly. My wife and I are struggling with managing our two children as is, if my wife were out of the equation I'd collapse immediately. Granted, my sister and I were a lot older than my kids are now, when shit hit the fan, but still...crazy impressive.

So yeah, basically he is a role model in perseverance and a lot of other things.

My son is my step-son and his biological dad has hispanic and black ancestry. My dad once told me that "It's too bad he's black" meaning that it's too bad he's black as his life will be more difficult for him and he won't have as high of achievements due to this fact. Great, so you have just accepted that we have an unfair and imbalanced society yet continue to tell me that this country is too woke and everyone has an equal advantage and there is no such thing as racial injustice. No old man, you are a fucking racist piece of shit.

We haven't spoken for 3 years.

So my Dad's an impressive guy, at least to me. Dropped out of high school after getting into an argument with a nun about divine authority, had a kid (me!) out of wedlock, married my mom and joined the military to provide, had a moment of self-reflection when child me did some math with fruit, did night school to get his high school diploma, after several deployments and changes in trade got a four year degree done in two years, became an officer, rose through the ranks and is now retired from the military, doing civvy stuff that protects the rights of servicepeople under the law. Beyond all of this, he is always trying new stuff: baking cookies, making his own clothes, repair on all sorts of shit, wilderness stuff, writing, painting, drawing, programming, photography, Qigong, studying philosophy - the list goes on, to this day (he's currently on a motorcycle repair kick). I basically watched this guy transform from a disappointed, angry young man to a character you could find in a Heinlein novel and say "Jesus, there's the competent man trope, right on time".

With all of this in mind, what sticks in my head is what he said when I did some bogus (probably) IQ test as a kid and ran up to him with a good result: "IQ is just a measure of potential. It's what you do with that potential that's the important part". Whether I've lived up to that idea is a separate question, but it still comes to mind these days.

This is also coupled with memories of near blows/fist fights over stupid shit growing up, but that's also offset by watching him make a real effort to learn and account for/manage his temper. He's a remarkably chill person at this point.

Love this guy, he is a rock fucking solid dude.

My dad was a dairy farmer. While I ended up in IT, a field he knew nothing about, he supported me the entire way. He did not understand my field of interest beyond the fact it was something I was interested in.

On the flip side, everything I know about machinery maintenance and repair I have from him. In my current field (an odd mix of It, industrial robotics and heavy machinery.... On ships), this background works well, as it gives me the diverse background needed for such a diverse work place.

I don't think there are anyone else in the company who can do VLAN and LACP trunks AND troubleshoot misbehaving hydraulics.

I worked with my dad for 20 years. He taught me almost everything I know about building houses. But I think the two biggest things were, how to deal with tricky clients (this applies to all people, not just clients), and how to come at everything with a relaxed style. He used to say he spent a lot of money in the '60s developing his attitude.

I came out to him over christmas 2 years ago and that's the last time he's spoken to me. His last words to me before he read my letter were "Love you always"

My dad did so much right, but his one failing was financial. He was an insurance salesman and had plenty of money when I was very young, but at some point it all dried up and he seemed unable to make more. He didn't starve or anything, but at a certain point my brother had to step in and buy his house or he was going to lose it.

So now, I'm very cognizant of my spending and always having a good cash reserve.

But, he was also extremely generous when he did have money. His favorite way to spend money was on the people he loved and to make them happy.

So now, I also give freely. If it makes someone I love happy, and I can afford it, I'll give them whatever I think might make them smile, if even for a day

When he died, we all could finally breathe.

My dad, my brother(13) and I (16) were on a resort scuba dive (we borrow their gear, and get a ride on their boat, and follow their leader during the dive). Descending down a line, with my dad following the dive lead, then me, then my brother.

About 60 feet deep, I see my dad jerk suddenly, followed by a bunch of bubbles. I see him grab his octopus... Another spasm and more bubbles.

I watch as he swims down to the dive leader, and grabs his octopus, taking in and releasing a breath. He signals to dive lead he needs to surface. Dive lead grabs his octopus and replaced it with my dad's original regulator... Another spasm, and he begins emergency surfacing. My brother and I follow. Dive lead has a Merry dive all alone.

At the surface, we find that the rubber bits on my dad's equipment (regulator, and octopus) had deteriorated, and broken at depth. He had lungs full of water, and spent the next half hour barfing and coughing it up.

That's about all I got, still brings me to tears twenty some odd years later to just think about it

He had a heart attack, best day of my life tbh, not only was he gone for a while, he stopped being a complete douchebag after he got out of the hospital

Who?

I have so many stark lasting memories of my dad, good and bad it’s hard to pick the one with the greatest impact.

Maybe the time I watched him have an allergic reaction to an ssri that ended in 6 cops beating him unconscious and dragging him to jail.

Maybe the time he unprompted pulled $800 out of his wallet and handed it to the lady at the laundry mat who was stressed about paying her rent that month.

Maybe the time my friends and I showed up at 2am with bath salts and he did a little toot with us.

Maybe the time he sat with me in the kitchen until the wee hours of the night playing chess while I cried about being broken up with for the first time.

One time I fell backwards from the ladder to the treehouse my dad built. I summersaulted backwards like twice as I fell but I was completely fine. But the look of worry and how fast he ran is something I'll never forget. It made me realize how much he cares.

I flat celebrated my father's death. The upside was he instilled equality of gender well, and considering the 80s that wasn't common around middle USA.

Father's Day is complex for me. Balancing my adult daughter bringing it for me vs memories of mine takes effort.

As of late my mind keeps going back to the time my dad was punishing us and made my older brother do wall squats in front of us and hold the position until my brother started to cry (I think we were around 10 yrs old at the time) then told us siblings to look at our brother and told us that he is a pussy

The day he left. Watched him pack up his shit and stood at the end of the driveway in tears watching him drive away. He moved out of state, rarely called, almost never visited. I was seven years old.

As a father, I could not dream of doing that. The only thing that piece of shit was good for was an example of what not to do. I love my kids so much, I cannot understand how much of a heartless fuck you'd have to be to just piss off like that. If you've ever done this to your kids, you are a good for nothing piece of shit.

Hope the flames are keeping you toasty you rotten bastard, I'll be up here enjoying my own kids quite a lot!

Realizing that my father was a coward killing goat herders from a billion dollar jet, not a hero like I thought growing up.

When he threatened to break my legs for playing music too loud.

My dad wasn't perfect, but he always did what was best for my mom and I. He worked his ass off doing a number of labor jobs (carpentry, mechanic, electrical, plumbing, etc) and was a jack of all trades. He dropped out his sophomore year in the 70s to help support his parents when his dad had a stroke and just kept working the labor jobs. He was well known enough in the plumbing business that when Disney was planning another hotel they asked for him by name to lead the plumbing project.

When all that hard labor caught up with him and he had his back surgery, it threw him on his ass and disability. He still kept working on stuff after recovering, rebuilt his uncle's Willy's he had found, swapping motors out of his truck when he eventually killed it, doing home renovations, everything. All while trying to teach my dumbass some of what he knew so I'd know something useful. I learned a lot from him, but not nearly all of what he knew. He was a stubborn hard ass so he liked things done a certain way and would sometimes get frustrated if I wasn't doing it right, but never in a "I'm going to scream at you because you fucked up" kinda way.

It took me until he was diagnosed with cancer to realize why he had always been a hard ass and pushing me to do better, he didn't want me to follow his footsteps and he stuck doing these hard labor jobs, destroying my body like he did his. Sorry that didn't work out, old man.

It's not really a particular memory of my dad that impacted me, it's basically his whole memory of him that did. I've had lots of great memories with him, but everything he always did was for his family first, he was very selfless. I wouldn't be who I am today without my dad.

Happy father's day, dad. Miss you.

When I was in boy scouts, my dad at one point made a comment to me that our Senior Patrol Leader was "just like me, but older"

What he meant was that our SPL was an immature little shit and I shouldn’t rely on him. What i heard was "Your personal role model is just like you, and you can be as awesome as him if you put the work in."

I don't have many happy memories of my father growing up. All he knew his entire life was hard work and he leaned into that, because his dad died when he was eleven. I am grateful to him for a few things he did that made a major impact on my life:

• He and my mom got my eyes fixed when I was four years old, before which I was legally blind.
• He put the first $1000 I ever saw in my hand to pay a college tuition bill so I wouldn't have to quit.
• He made sure I had everything I needed growing up in terms of material needs.

But there are a wealth of shitty memories too. He was drunk for most of my childhood and adolescence and verbally abusive. There were times he'd show up to my baseball or soccer practices and games and beer cans would be falling out of his truck. (Never had an adult intervene there, though.)

Most annoyingly, he and my mom have "borrowed" my car for a year to work for DoorDash. They're too old now to get jobs anywhere else and have to survive.

The best thing I can say about him now is that I know he regrets all of it. On the rare occasions I have him over he always has a gift of some sort. It's usually something small, because they're very poor. Last time it was a container of oatmeal. It's his way of saying sorry, because his stoic, 1940's and 1950's upbringing produced a man who doesn't know how to actually say he's sorry.

Coming everyday to sit with me in the hospital for a month; from the ICU all the way to the general ward until he walked out the front door with me.

I always knew my dad loved me but he wasn't great at expressing it, but it was never more apparent than during that time.

I remember when I was very young, maybe 3 or 4 so this would've been like 1975-6?, sitting in the truck with my dad waiting for something. A song came on the radio, and I looked over and realized that my dad was crying. It was the only time I've ever seen my dad cry, but when I asked him he didn't try to hide or deny it, he just said 'You'll understand one day.' I listened to that song over and over again for years as I grew up, and slowly understanding dawned and it really made me value my relationship with him (and with everyone, really), and made me realize that it's okay to feel stuff even if society tells you that 'real men don't cry' or whatever.

My dad constantly yelling at us. Telling us we were stupid and wouldn't amount to anything.

One of my sisters turned out that way, and I blame him for it.

My other sister and myself are both college graduates.

She's an engineer with a degree in math and engineering. I recently resigned from my geologist job to go back to school for biochemistry.

The reason it made such an impact on me is because I swore that my kid would never hear such talk from anyone in the family.

He just finished the 3rd grade at the top of his class in both math and reading.

When he grabbed my by the throat and lifted me up a wall. Because i hit a door jam with a table leg, while moving it from the living room to the kitchen so he WOULDNT get pissed.

There are few greater antipoles to me and "my whole thing" than my dad, but... He taught me the value of being cautious, and to take time to extensively evaluate pros and cons before I made important decisions. I took that ball and ran with it, and now I am routinely praised by my peers for my ability to foresee potential pitfalls and preemptively negate them, and reflexively I think of my dad who would suggest that it was just common sense.

Of course it's not just "common sense" -- but rather a curious mindset and an intentional thought process -- and you instilled that in me, Dad. Thank you.

Him not being a part of my life for about 20 years. We've since reconciled to the point where we visit each other about twice a year and call every few months, but the relationship will always be a bit strained.

It's a tie between him repeatedly raping my sister in our shared room while I was present and when he shot my viszla in front of me. Good times, dad. Happy father's day.

His misogyny.

My mom would always fuss that I'd drip water on the floor after a shower. After one such fussing, my dad took the time to actually give me advice on how to towel off properly, so as not to drip. (LPT: start from the top, work your way down)

Anyways, he was the more patient parent and would try and help you succeed.

I've had a few" landmark moments" with my dad over the years. A lot of my experiences growing up with him were not positive. I think the most important thing I learned about him was that he wasn't a bad person. He genuinely wanted to do the right thing. He was (and to some extent still is) a broken man who's own father completely destroyed him. That realization made it easier for me to forgive him and work towards repairing our relationship.

The most important thing I learned from him was that anger is a cancer. If you can't learn to let it go, it will metastasize. It rots you away from the inside out; physically, mentally, and spiritually. Robbing you of joy and cutting you off from the people you love while doing nothing to resolve the things you're angry about.

I am extremely thankful that I learned that lesson at a relatively young age and before I had kids of my own. By the time my dad figured it out the damage was already done.

My dad is... complicated, and I could tell a lot of insane stories. But the memory that is haunting me is how he said "we won't wait when war starts", in Russian. It made no sense. I overheard it as a part of some conversation with my mother (maybe other grown ups as well) when I was a kid and I asked what he meant and he claimed he didn't remember saying that. I believe him that he didn't remember. But it was odd, it's not something he would say. Neither he, nor my mom, nor their friends are political people talking about war, ever. It was said casually, but no one ever casually talked about war or politics over here. This was 25 years ago. I kept thinking about it for years and years again, trying to grasp what it meant, what it might have meant, and why it stuck with me so much, why I couldn't get it out of my head, why I couldn't let it go.

It was also painfully screaming in my head when Russia attacked Ukraine in 2022. It's like it was an eerie foreshadowing but I still don't know. I have so few memories of my childhood, why did this one stay? Why do I see and hear him say this? What did he mean with "we won't wait"? Did he mean we won't wait for the war to start or we won't wait when the war will have started? Both are possible interpretations in the Russian wording. What are we waiting for? Are we still waiting? What should we be doing?

I keep going back to this one stupid sentence and this memory is ringing in my ears. What does it want to tell me to do? I know I need to do something, I just can't figure out what.

When I found out he had neglected to tell me that I have an inheritable disease that will suddenly just outright kill me one day, unless I get regular checkups. Other than that there just isn’t that much I know about him, he never told me about himself and we rarely meet.

"It's ok son. Don't listen to her. Your mother is fucking insane."

My father died when I was a baby

I don't think he ever quite readjusted to civilian life after his time in World War II. He talked of it constantly, watched documentaries and war pictures.

When I was lime 6 or 7 he told me that he broke a gay guy's nose because he hit on my dad at a rest stop bathroom.

I'll never forget being around 12 years old and hearing my dad address another adult by Mr+surname. It was Mr Palmer who organized the little league I grew up playing in and my dad coached. In school we were forced to address teachers and staff as Ms, Mrs or Mr but at that instance I realized treating others with respect is a choice

His fists.

I thought that my Dad always killed flies with extreme force, until I saw him releasing them outside from his fist.