The Light We Inherit: The Sun, Summer Solstice, and Father's Day

Archive reflection · Father's Day and the 2025 Summer Solstice

In 2025, Father's Day arrived alongside the Summer Solstice, and the pairing felt somehow appropriate.

The Summer Solstice marks the longest day of the year. Across much of the Northern Hemisphere, the Sun rises early, sets late, and reaches its highest point in the sky. For thousands of years, people honored this turning point with celebrations, gatherings, bonfires, and ceremonies. The Sun was recognized as a source of warmth, growth, and life itself.

As I thought about the solstice that year, I found myself thinking about fathers.

Not just fathers in the traditional sense, but grandfathers, stepfathers, mentors, teachers, coaches, and all the people who have helped guide us along the way.

The older I get, the more I realize how much of life is inherited. Not just our eye color or our smile, but our values, our habits, our stories, our strengths, and sometimes even our struggles. We carry pieces of the people who came before us whether we realize it or not.

When I look at old photographs, I sometimes catch a glimpse of myself in a parent's expression or posture. It can be surprising. Time passes, and suddenly we find ourselves standing where they once stood.

My father wasn't perfect. No parent is. The older I become, the more grace I find for the people who were simply doing the best they could with what they knew at the time. What once seemed simple often reveals itself to be far more complicated.

Perhaps that's one of the gifts of getting older. We begin to see our parents not only as parents, but as people. People with dreams, fears and responsibilities.

People trying to find their way just as we are.

The Summer Solstice has always fascinated me because it contains a beautiful paradox. It is the longest day of the year, yet it also marks the moment when daylight begins its slow return toward winter. The greatest light already contains the beginning of darkness. Every season eventually changes.

Life works that way too.

Children become parents. Parents become grandparents. Teachers can become students again. And one generation gradually hands its wisdom, stories, and memories to the next.

As I looked at the photograph accompanying this article, I was reminded that our time together is precious. The people we love shape us in ways we may never fully understand. Long after conversations are forgotten and years have passed, something of them remains.

So on that Summer Solstice and Father's Day, I found myself feeling grateful.

Grateful for the men who get it right. Grateful for the fathers who showed up. Grateful for the mentors who offered guidance. Grateful for the people who helped light the path when we could not yet see it for ourselves.

The Sun set that night just as it always did. The next day, the days began, almost imperceptibly, to grow shorter. The wheel continued to turn.

But that night, beneath the longest light of the year, I hoped you found a moment to remember those who helped you grow.

Happy Father's Day.

And Happy Summer Solstice.