6 Powerful Father’s Day Stories From People With Disabilities
What makes a great dad or father figure?
For some, it’s a quiet kind of support that needs no spotlight. For others, it’s encouragement, guidance, a sense of safety, or someone who listens without judgment.
Sometimes that person is a biological father. Other times, it’s a stepdad, grandfather, mentor, teacher, or chosen family member. What matters isn’t the label—it’s how they show up and what they make possible. It’s not about being a perfect dad. It’s about being present, flexible, and fiercely in your corner.
This Father’s Day, we asked people with disabilities: How has your dad—or a father figure—shaped your life?
Here are six real stories about strength, support, and showing up.

Jonathan and his dad
“When I was 18, I was diagnosed with Ewing’s sarcoma, a rare and aggressive cancer. I also have autism, so I experience sensory things like touch and routine differently. When I found out I needed a port placed in my chest for chemotherapy, I was overwhelmed and scared. But my dad knew exactly what I needed. He gave me a Cookie Monster plush, one of my favorite characters, that had a real chemotherapy port sewn into his chest—just like mine. My dad made sure it looked exactly the way I would look, with tape and bandages too. Being able to feel the port on Cookie Monster helped me understand what was going to happen to my own body. That Cookie Monster, who we named Patient Cookie, came with me to every single appointment. It was like having a piece of my dad with me, especially on the days he couldn’t be there because of work. I am now 3 years Cancer Free and use Patient Cookie to teach medical students through Operation House Call with The Arc of Massachusetts. I use him to show future doctors and nurses that caring for someone with a disability means more than just treating their illness, it means taking the time to understand the whole person. My dad is the perfect example of that. He gave me comfort, safety, and a way to face something scary. He turned my fear into understanding, and that’s just one of the many reasons why my Dad is so important to me, and why I love him so much.”
— Jonathan Gardner lives in Massachusetts and has autism

Veronica and her stepdad
“My stepdad, Charlie, never tried to replace my father—he wanted to be my friend. I don’t call him Dad, but he’s been more of one than anyone else. He is very reserved but shows his love by being in my corner constantly and occasionally in my apartment with a wrench or a screwdriver. I often hear about how proud he is or how amazing he thinks I am from others. He doesn’t define me by the things I don’t have or can’t do because I have disability. He always just waited for me to tell him what I needed rather than assuming anything about what I couldn’t do. It feels great to know that someone as strong as he thinks that you are just as strong but in a different way. I recently lost my purse with my phone and ID in it before boarding a plane. I was able to contact my sister to let her know I might be stuck at the airport overnight. My mother went into a panic and wanted to jump in the car and bring me back home. Not Charlie. He calmly tells my mom not to worry. “She is a smart girl, she’s going to get herself on the plane and get herself home.” He was right. I talked to the right people, I explained my situation, I got through an extended TSA security check, and I made it on to my flight home. What did Charlie say? “I told you she would do it.” Thank you, Charlie, for always being there and believing in me.”
— Veronica Ayala lives in Texas and has cerebral palsy

Marina and her dad
“My dad helped me through my traumatic brain injury [following a car accident]. I was in inpatient therapy and my dad would help me read the Harry Potter books. I lost my ability to read, but it was through practice and hard work and love that I was able to regain my reading ability. When I was discharged to outpatient therapy, he took me home and [my mom and dad] took turns driving me to therapy every day of the week.”
— Marina Agerter lives in Virginia and has a traumatic brain injury and aphasia

Ray’s grandparents
“I was adopted and raised by my grandparents when I was very young. I called them mom and dad growing up. My dad, George, was and always will be my best friend. He taught me how to play piano, and we would sit on the bench together and play our favorite tunes. My dad was a priest for the episcopalian church most of his life. Although his faith was strong in his religion, he never judged anyone’s beliefs or culture. He welcomed discussions about life and the world. My dad taught me how to be responsible and independent with finances and to always be prepared. When he passed away in my early twenties, it left a hole in my heart. Each year on Father’s Day, I light a candle and tell him how much he meant to me.”
— Ray Simpson lives in Minnesota and has anxiety, sensory processing disorder, chronic nerve damage, and complex regional pain syndrome

Taylor and her dad
“My dad has been my constant rock throughout my life. He continues to show unconditional love regardless of how old I get. He has been my number one coach and cheerleader—but also the one who teaches me to be tough in times of hardship. My autism and different support needs have never stopped him or prevented him from being the best father he can be. He is the dad that will help me face my fear and insert my dignity of risk because he believes in me and believes I deserve happiness and success. He has gone above and beyond for me, showing me what tough love and unconditional love is like. I also want to recognize my stepdad. From day one, he has been supportive and there for me. I am not only lucky to have one dad, but to have two dads to celebrate.”
— Taylor Crisp lives in Washington state and has autism

Mark and his dad
“My father served as an advocate by attending IEP meetings, reading books about the special education regulations, and making sure I had the right services to receive a free and appropriate education. He also served on a lot of boards to help people with disabilities. When I graduated from high school, my father made sure services were available so I could live in the community as independently as possible. Having watched my Dad advocate for me through the years gave me the desire to advocate for others.”
— Mark Dixon lives in Virginia and has cerebral palsy
These Father’s Day stories from the disability community show how deep an impact dads and father figures can have.
To the fathers and father figures: thank you for listening, encouraging, adapting, and advocating. Your impact is lasting.
To the people who shared their stories with us: thank you for your honesty and vulnerability.
And to anyone for whom Father’s Day brings up mixed emotions—whether because of loss, distance, or difficult experiences: you’re not alone. We honor all the ways love and support can take shape.