Still His Girl: A Father’s Day Reflection on Love, Loss, and Letting Go

Sonya Strider
Jun 15
3 min read

Father’s Day is here.

For many of us, it stirs up more than cards, cookouts, and memories. It’s a day of reflection—a moment to honor the guiding hands, comforting voices, and protective hearts of the fathers and father figures who shape our lives.

For Black girls and women, a father’s presence can be life-changing. His voice affirms. His example guides. His love becomes a mirror reflecting our worth, our beauty, and our limitless potential.

A father’s presence tells a Black girl that she is enough—long before the world tries to convince her otherwise. He teaches her how she deserves to be treated—not just through words, but through love, patience, respect, and unwavering consistency.

When he shows up—at recitals, in heartbreak, at the dinner table—he is saying you matter. She learns what stability feels like, what safety sounds like, and what love looks like when it is not earned but simply given.

But Father’s Day can feel different when he's no longer here. Maybe it’s your first without him. Maybe it’s been years. But the ache—that sacred, silent ache—still finds its way into your chest.

Because when you're a Daddy’s Girl, you don’t just lose a parent. You lose your protector. Your encourager. Your anchor.

You lose the man whose love became the standard for what to look for—and what to avoid—in every relationship that followed. You lose your mechanic, your comforter, your confidante. Your first love.

But love like that doesn’t disappear.It lingers…In the way you carry yourself. In the jokes you still hear echoing in your heart. In the things you say without realizing you’re quoting him.In the quiet moments when you remember what it felt like to be completely loved.

Grief is the price of love., and you loved deeply. You still do!

And to the daughters grieving a different kind of loss—the love you needed but didn’t get—we SEE you too.

You are not unlovable because he couldn’t love you the way you needed him to. You are not broken because he left. Not every father could show up how we needed. Some didn’t know how. Some were wounded themselves. Some were physically present, but emotionally unreachable. And while their absence leaves holes, healing often begins by shifting the lens.

I know this, because I’ve lived it.

My relationship with my father was far from perfect. For years, I longed to be a Daddy’s Girl. I carried pain and anger, unsure how to release it. I loved him, yes—but there were things I thought I could never forgive. Then one day, I told him. All of it. How I felt. What hurt. What I needed. To my surprise, he listened. He said, “I’m sorry.” No excuses. Just truth: and somehow, that was enough.

It took adulthood—and some healing—for me to accept him as he was. He couldn’t show up for me back then because, at times, he couldn’t even show up for himself.

But I’m grateful for the restoration we found. In the later years, we built something new. Something real. He showed up every time I needed him. Everything he wasn’t as a father; he became as a grandfather. He never missed a celebration for the grand kids. He was Destiny’s everything. She could get him to do anything.

I learned to accept and love the fact that my dad was a true free spirit, who danced to the beat of his own drum. I never expected to miss him this deeply but boy do I. I miss our dinners and how he'd come and raid our refrigerator. I miss fussing about his dead phone or his unannounced road trips. I miss my dance partner, my riding partner, my concert partner, and my music aficionado. Every time I hear a new artist, I want to call him-then I remember. Turns out, I’m more of a Daddy’s Girl than I ever knew. It took me years to love him just as he was. But I did. And I do. We found our groove. When I look in the mirror, I see him looking back at me. I have his face, his smile, and at his free-spirit personality.