When a father dies, the loss is often deeper and more complex than many men expect. Beyond grief, it can bring a new sense of vulnerability, an awareness of mortality, and the realization that something has shifted. This reflection explores one of the most common yet least-discussed transitions in a man’s life—and why the weight many men feel may be connected to responsibility quietly passing from one generation to the next. The weight is real, but so is your ability to carry

The biggest challenge has been that my career in coaching often conflicted with time at home. As our children grew, I realized I needed to pull back from coaching in order to be more present. At one point, my wife and I felt like we were spending most of our lives pouring into other people’s children and not enough time into our own. That realization led us to make a major life change... I’ve always resonated with a quote from college basketball coach Buzz Williams: “Be famo

On a summer night in 1978 my father and I escaped from communist Vietnam. That journey left a permanent mark on my childhood and on the bond we shared. My father was the only parent I had during my formative years. Our relationship was close, but it was no-nonsense and one-directional. When I held my daughter for the first time, I knew I wanted my kids to look up to me the way I looked up to my father. At the same time, I also knew I wanted to be a different kind of dad.

When I became a father, I felt completely unprepared. I knew the kind of father I didn’t want to be, but I had no clear picture of the father God was calling me to become. I decided to go through Dad Academy with my son-in-law because I didn’t want him to struggle the way I did. I wanted him to start fatherhood with clarity and confidence. What I didn’t expect was how much I would grow as a grandfather.