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He shouldn’t have stayed, but he did…

This past weekend on Father’s Day, I came across a story that stopped me in my tracks.

It was written by a woman reflecting on Father’s Day and a man named Dave:

Father’s Day always makes me think about a man who changed the course of my life.

His name is Dave.

I met Dave when I was five years old.

At that time my biological parents were going through a difficult divorce. Both my parents were drug addicts and alcoholics, and the judge told them they needed to go to rehab and get cleaned up.

My mother did, I suspect it was largely to secure custody of my sister and me.

My father didn’t.

During that time, my mom began dating Dave.

Growing up, life was often chaotic and unpredictable.

Pretty soon after Dave met my sober mom, she gained custody of my sister and me and almost immediately started drinking again.

I wish I could say she was a “fun drunk.”

She wasn’t.

She was cruel and malicious.

More monster than mom.

I can’t tell you all that Dave endured.

The frantic phone calls in the middle of the night.

The police visits.

The shouting.

The abuse.

And all the times my sister and I begged him not to leave us.

Through all of it, Dave remained a constant source of stability, love and support in our young lives.

When I was thirteen, my sister and I moved in with him for a year while my mom tried to get sober again.

At sixteen, I once again needed a place to call home.

Dave opened his door without hesitation.

I lived with him through high school and, after graduation, he helped get me settled at university.

Growing up, I didn’t have the maturity or capacity to think much about it.

Now, being older and more settled, I can reflect on that period.

And what amazes me all these years later is this:

He didn’t have to.

He could have walked away at any point.

He could have decided the situation was too complicated.

Too messy.

Too difficult.

But he stayed.

He bought our school supplies.

He fed us.

He showed up to our track meets, volleyball games and theatre performances.

He encouraged me to go to college, even though at that time he hadn’t attended college himself.

He believed in my future before I fully believed in it.

Some of my favourite childhood memories are the weekends my sister and I spent with Dave.

We’d go to the movies.

Play video games.

Laugh until our stomachs hurt.

And enjoy things that felt rare at the time:

Peace.

Joy.

Harmony.

Looking back, I realise that what Dave gave us wasn’t just support.

He gave us possibility.

He showed us that our circumstances didn’t have to define our future.

He taught us that family isn’t always about biology.

Sometimes it’s about the people who choose to stay.

The people who keep showing up.

The people who offer wisdom, patience, encouragement and love when they have every reason to walk away.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to appreciate just how much responsibility comes with being a father, mentor or role model.

The impact of simply showing up consistently for another person can last a lifetime.

I know it certainly did for me.

What moved me most about the story was that Dave never chased recognition.

He wasn’t trying to become a hero.

He wasn’t trying to earn praise.

He simply kept showing up.

Again.

And again.

And again.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become increasingly convinced that much of life is shaped this way.

Not by grand moments.

But by repeated acts of quiet consistency.

A teacher who believes in a student.

A coach who keeps encouraging.

A mentor who keeps making time.

A parent who keeps showing up.

Years later, we often struggle to remember the individual moments.

But we never forget the people.

Fragrance works in a surprisingly similar way.

Not because it’s important in the same way.

Nothing about perfume compares to the impact of a person like Dave.

But scent often works through accumulation.

Repeated moments.

Repeated experiences.

Repeated associations.

A fragrance becomes attached to someone we love.

A period of our life.

A feeling of safety.

A feeling of confidence.

A memory we didn’t realise we were creating at the time.

And years later, a single smell can bring all of it flooding back.

I suspect that’s why scent matters more than people sometimes realise.

Not because it’s dramatic.

But because it quietly accompanies so many of the moments that shape us.

The story ended with a simple reflection.

The woman realised that Dave had given her more than a place to stay.

He had given her possibility.

He showed her that circumstances don’t have to define the future.

And perhaps that’s the greatest gift one person can give another.

Until next time

Rob

"Perfume is the key to unlocking memories and emotions."

Sarah Jessica Parker

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