There is a saying that any man can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a daddy.

Perhaps Father’s Day is appropriately named, because not all men live up to that deeper title. I had one of those dads.

One year, a Father’s Day phone call ended in a bitter argument. For a long time, I carried the heavy weight of never feeling good enough for him. In his eyes, I didn’t marry the right person, I made poor choices at times, and I hadn’t finished college. I was even told at one point that he would have had more to do with his grandchildren had I made better relationship choices before I met Kevin. While I certainly recognize my own mistakes in life, the truth is that my children grew up without a grandfather.

And that was his choice.

We went 15 years without speaking a single word to each other. I hadn’t seen my dad since 2001, right before he left Texas for Kansas and I moved to Tennessee. Eventually, I reached out to his current wife on Facebook, and within a few weeks, he contacted me. The tension was still there on the phone, but we began corresponding, if only on birthdays and holidays.

But life moves on, and we grow. After moving to Tennessee and marrying Kevin, I went back to school and earned my MBA in 2011, and my sister earned her master’s around the same time. I proved to myself that I was capable, even if my father couldn’t see it at the time.

Years later, as his health declined, life had a way of circling around. He had severed ties with my brother years prior, but my sister and I traveled to see him in his nursing home, making two trips within a few months. During those visits, he apologized for the father he had been. I believe he was sincere, but I also know he was afraid—he explicitly told us he worried his wife would pass before him and he’d have no one left to care for him.

The reality was complicated. I never stopped loving him because he was my dad, but if he hadn’t been my father, he wasn’t someone I would have chosen to have in my life. Alongside that love, I also felt a deep sense of sorrow for him. He missed out on so much beauty, love, and life with me, my sister, my brother, and his grandchildren.

My father passed away just a few months after our last visit. During our time together, he told us that he knew the Lord, and I certainly hope that he did.

Family is important, and you shouldn’t wait until it’s too late to make amends. Harboring bitter memories doesn’t hurt the person who broke your heart—it only hurts you and the people around you. Trust me, I know it is not an easy task, but it is a necessary one.

For those of you who were blessed with wonderful relationships with your fathers, I am truly happy for you. Mine may not have been the dad he should have been, but he was the one God gave me. And in the end, I am grateful I chose light over darkness.

So as the sun descends on your Father’s Day, keep this in mind. Family can be hard at times, but there is a profound beauty in letting the day come to a close—and there is an even greater freedom in refusing to let the sun set on your bitterness. Forgive them, not because what they did was right, but so your own heart can finally be at peace.