He wasn’t perfect, but from a daughter’s point of view, he was pretty damn close

1 week ago 5

By Michelle Moriarty

September 6, 2025 — 3.00am

My Dad, Neville Moriarty, was the first to admit he wasn’t perfect, but from a daughter’s point of
view he was pretty damn close.

On September 22, 2022, my parents were on a trip up North in WA, doing what retired people love best, driving around experiencing the red dirt, warm sun and unique northwest Aussie lifestyle.

Michelle Moriarty is a Grief Expert and Social Worker who has written a piece about losing her own dad and how to navigate that grief on and in the lead up to Father’s Day.

On this day they’d decided to explore the gorges, walking and swimming. They took photos of the countryside and the huge python they’d been swimming with (but didn’t realise at the time!).

Unfortunately, life doesn’t give you a timeline of how long you have, and this day was the last day given to my darling Dad.

The part of me that tries to make sense of dad’s death, referred to in grief language as “bargaining”, is that my dad’s last day was one he would have loved. All was well with me and his grandchildren,
and he was doing what he loved with his wife. Going out “quick” and not having a long, drawn-out dying process, was also something Dad had hoped for. I subscribe to this idea too.

My Dad was pragmatic about life, and death. He accepted that ultimately, we have no control over our death.

He wasn’t fearful of it, but he worried about how Mum and I would cope afterwards.

We’d had many conversations about life, death and grief because dad (and mum) had been such a huge support to me when I suddenly became a young widow at 38.

As we approach Father’s Day, I find the grief waves start getting bigger. Missing my dad is a constant, but it moved differently from my grief as a young widow. Dad was my superhero, my rock. He brought stability, sense and security to my life, so missing him is a loss and sadness all its own.

He raised me to be proud of being vulnerable and authentic. To be the best person I can be. To be kind and respectful, even (and especially) when someone didn’t deserve it and to be trustworthy and loyal. Basically, a good human.

Here’s my tips to help bring some comfort:

Tune in to your feelings. Notice what your mind and body are telling you, grief speaks through stress, emotions, tension, or fatigue. Pause and reflect on your feelings without judgement.
Make space to feel. Whether it’s quiet time alone or connection with family and friends,allow room for your emotions to surface and settle.
Create a ritual to honour your dad. Light a candle, cast a fishing line, sit by the fire pit, whatever feels true to his memory and helps you hold him close for a moment.
Spend time with someone who knew him. This one’s important. Share a moment or activity he would have appreciated with that person. These connections carry comfort and help us feel close to our dads.
Avoid numbing your grief. Alcohol, drugs, compulsive eating, gambling, the list goes on, these might offer short-term distraction, but they often make our grief stagnant or harder to process.
Speak his name, share his stories. It’s okay to laugh, cry, and feel the full spectrum of emotions. Notice how you feel after sharing, often, it can bring lightness, warmth and relief.

My grief for dad can be really challenging some days. My heart feels sad and heavy, and I ache for his trusted and consistent words of support. But what still exists, even though dad is no longer here, is his spirit, his guidance, his mentorship, his ongoing presence in my life.

It shows up in my thinking, as I reflect on what dad would do or say, and I hold my memories of him close.

As we approach Father’s Day, grief can surge, and the sadness in missing our dads can feel raw and overwhelming.

This emotional build-up stirs memories and with Father’s Day promotions at the shops and on social media, it’s a constant reminder that Father’s Day is looming. This can compound our already existing grief, reminding us of our huge loss and a hole in our lives.

My Dad wasn’t a big hugger, but I’d kiss him on the head or give him a hug whenever we said goodbye and he’d tell me he loved me every time. I felt loved, and it’s these moments that stay with me as I move through my grief.

Father’s Day isn’t easy, and my heart goes out to everyone missing their dad, or who has an estranged relationship with theirs.

Be kind and gentle with yourself and ride the waves as best you can. And remember where there is deep grief, it also means there was deep love.