He Never Sat Me Down And Explained Any Of It

A few years ago on Father’s Day I wrote down the six things my dad taught me.

1. Grit and work ethic. No task too difficult. Nothing impossible. With patience and perseverance, anything gets done.

2. Taking responsibility, regardless of fault. Plenty happens that isn't your fault but is still yours to work through.

3. Humility and kindness. All the success in the world means nothing without the humility to keep learning and the desire to be kind without expecting anything back.

4. Patience and poise. Easy to panic under pressure and act on emotion. Much harder to stay calm and make the best decision available.

5. Never losing touch with your inner child. Life gets heavy. The playful kid still in you lightens the load.

6. How to love. Love isn't something you say. It's something you do. Demonstrated through your actions. Every day.

Reading it back this year, now as a father myself, something struck me that I'd missed completely.

He never taught me any of it.

Not once did my dad sit me down and explain grit, or responsibility, or humility. There was no lesson. No speech. No moment where he told me how to be.

I just watched him. For decades.

He was those things, consistently, when he had no idea I was paying attention. And that's how they got in.

Which is a confronting thing to realise when you have a son of your own.

Because it means I can't teach my son any of this either.

I can't explain work ethic to him. He'll learn it from whether I get up when it's cold and hard.

I can't tell him how to take responsibility. He'll learn it from watching whether I make excuses when something goes wrong.

I can't describe humility and kindness. He'll learn it from seeing how I conduct myself around others every day.

He won't remember what I told him. He'll remember what I was.

That's the uncomfortable part of being a father, or a mother, and it's the same for anyone leading anyone - a family, a team, a business.

The lessons don't transmit through your words.

They transmit through your behaviour on the days you think nobody's watching.

Someone always is.

Thank you, Dad. For everything.

I'm still watching.​

If you know someone who would benefit from reading this, please forward it to them. It may change the trajectory of their life for the better, and the catalyst could be you.