You Done Good

This Father’s Day hits a little differently. One of our original Greenland Sharks just lost his 94-year-old mom. A life well lived, deeply loved—but still, a loss that shifts the foundation beneath your feet. As he and I drove back together from the out-of-state funeral, we started talking about various things. As Shark conversations go, it began quiet, meandering through memories and laughter. Then we hit on something that stuck.

I told him the hardest part of losing my dad—and later, my mom—wasn’t just the final goodbye. It was the quiet afterward. The absence of that voice on the other end of the line that said, “I’m proud of you. You did a great job. That’s really interesting what you’re doing... but have you thought about this?”

My dad didn’t hand out medals, but he knew when to drop the kind of line that could carry me for days. Nothing elaborate. No pep talks. Just a simple, “Another semester down before graduation,” when I came home from college. I was knee-deep in an engineering major that was kicking my ass, and he knew it. That line said everything: You’re doing it. I see you. Keep pushing. You’ll make it to the other side.

Now that he's gone, I still “talk” to him sometimes. But if you’ve been there, you know—it’s not the same. A few years ago, I called my brother Paul in a bit of a panic and said, “Can you play Dad for a second? I just need someone to tell me they’re proud of me.” I didn’t need advice. I didn’t need a fix. I just needed that pat on the back. From someone older. Someone who had seen more. Someone whose approval meant something beyond the surface.

As a father now, I try to carry that forward.

My son is the Chef de Cuisine at a high-end restaurant in L.A. Amid recent ICE protests and riots, he’s been the last one out, getting his team home safely during curfews and navigating chaos just to make sure everyone’s okay. I’ve told him I’m proud of him—not just for his food and his leadership, but for his heart.

My youngest daughter works in a law firm. She's in that tangle of ambition and golden handcuffs, trying to take on more responsibility while balancing the fear of giving up a steady paycheck for something uncertain. I’ve told her I’m proud of her too. She’s a force. She’ll get where she wants to go. I see it.

My middle daughter is a kindergarten teacher—and let's be honest, it’s the hardest gig in showbiz. Herding tiny humans, nurturing their wild minds, giving them order and love every single day. Parents send her notes about the difference she makes. The kids adore her. And I tell her, again and again: I’m proud of you.

Because we all need to hear it.

There’s something magic about those words from a father figure. They don’t need to be dramatic. They just need to be real. To be spoken. To be heard.

It makes you feel seen. Validated. Like you’re not just surviving the grind—you’re doing good in the eyes of someone who matters.

As Greenland Sharks, we’re men who know that strength isn’t just in grit or stoicism—it’s in the willingness to tell your people they’re doing great. It’s in the small words that echo for decades.

This Father’s Day, I’m reflecting on the legacy I want to leave. Not just in accomplishments or stories—but in the habit of saying, "You done good."

I hope my kids do it with their own families one day. That they carry this quiet tradition forward. Because there is truly nothing better than hearing from your dad—or someone who steps into that role—that you're okay. That you matter. That you’ve made them proud.

And if you’ve still got someone in your life who needs to hear it?

Say it. Today’s a good day.