Dobbo Chats – Open letter from Adair Donaldson (19 March)

0:00Welcome back to Rural Queen's Land today. Ben Dobin with you this morning. I want to read you something that I was sent yesterday by a dear Donaldson. And if you haven't, don't know a dear, there is the father who lost his younger son, Oliver, a little over a month ago. He sent me this. It's a reflection on fatherhood, raising boys, trying to make them become good men. The CS Lewis wrote about grief in the months after his wife's death. The dear said, I'm no CS Lewis, but I'm grief-stricken by the loss of our younger son, Oliver. And I seek any reprieve. He wrote to Slavy's grief and the dear is doing the same. Now, what I'm about to read is not about grief. It's instead a love letter to fathers of sons. It's drawn from raising four remarkable young men

1:01and from the long debates I had with Oliver about the challenges facing young men today. Is Rural? And I'd wish he'd written it to Oliver while he was alive. So he could still have given me his unfiltered feedback as he always inclined to do so. Now, this, I'm about to read his word for word from a dear Donaldson. Dear fathers of sons, I write this in the depths of grief four weeks ago, my wife and our three sons lost our youngest son and brother, Oliver. He was 19. There was no warning. His death was completely random. There is no villain in this story and no one to blame. We are left with the infinitive grief that follows the loss of a child and a sibling. Grief comes in waves. Some days I function, some days I do not. Yet along side the pain comes clarity.

2:04For close on 30 years, I pride myself on being a lawyer and an educator. I believed I played a small part in improving other people's lives. I measured success by outcomes, achievements, appointments, feedback and income. I was so wrong. My greatest role and my greatest success has been as a father to four boys who grew into four remarkable young men. Nothing else comes close. Raising our sons has always been a partnership. My wife and I complemented one another. She is carried and continues to carry emotional burdens. I will never fully see or understand. We've been a team. But this letter is from one father to another because there are things we must own. 26 years ago, when I heard there are two and their boys, my world changed. Every other ambition shrank from that day forward

3:07being their father became my greatest pride and joy. A joy that only deepened as their brothers joined them. The time I have spent and continued to spend with them is the greatest investment of my life. I never was perfect, often distracted, frequently disorganized, but always there for our sons. Twin boys were a baptism of fire for new parents, but I would not have had it any other way. From day one, I was hands on. When they woke in the middle of the night, I would get up, change them, wrap them tight, swallow them, handing them over to their mother for a feed while with the other stirred. Then came the burping, settling, the quiet work of getting them back to sleep. While I could not provide them the sustenance, I could do everything else. Even now I close my eyes. I can still remember the rhythm of changing a cloth nappy in the half-light and folding a blanket around the tiny body. The hours I spent with our sons asleep

4:07on my chest remained some of the happiest memories of my life. What began with the twins became rhythm that continued with their youngest brothers, different babies, the same quiet work in the early hours of the morning. Looking back now, those small ordinary moments built the bond we always share. Having four boys under six men, there was always games that would invariably end in tears. It meant that there was always a child in my arms, often too. We spent building impossible machines, we danced to Abba, and we made up words to sing along to songs. The most memorable was cold plays, paradise with the boys saying, parrot, parrot, parrot dies. Even the memories of a young child looking up tied eyes saying, Daddy, I feel sick. Then projectile vomiting over my dooring face and remembered with fondness. The boys grew up too fast. And soon they were at school, where I had the privilege of coaching all the boys rugby teams, and when they were very young, while other parents waited for the game to become more serious,

5:07wrangling five-year-olds could barely follow instructions and chaos, but not was not for the faint hearted. For me, it was magnificent. I'd vetted games like Fox and Chickens and the Rocket Man to teach them the basic ways to make sense to five-year-old boys. We celebrated every pass. We cheered other teams as loudly as our own. And when there were tears, I reassured them and plonked them back on the game. It was never about winning. It was about belonging. About building friendships. In that all of us case became lifelong. Years later, one of those boys now towering front rower in the first 15 told me his first love of the game was Fox and Chickens. And it made my day. Fathers, this is the point. Early engagement matters. In primary school, if you are present, you know what is happening in your son's life. They talk endlessly. The chatter is hilarious. And it's a privilege to be included. The privilege is earned by getting down to their level, reading with them, sitting beside them,

6:07listening to stories about nothing. That's important. In high school, the flow narrows. But there are ways to ensure they still know you're there, ready to be able to offer support. And this is no playbook. It requires flexibility and understanding that parenting is an individual journey. Over the years, school would bring parenting experts and my long-suffering wife would refer me to the latest book or podcast promising answers. Early on, I tried to emulate what the others were doing, but I soon realized that no two families are the same. The only common thread among fathers who remained close to their sons was that they made the deliberate choice to be involved. Our boys would be quick to challenge. We had lively debates about whether they were being picked up at 11.30 or 11.45. It sounded ridiculous, but sometimes those extra 15 minutes were currency. As a father, you have to ask yourself, is the relationship worth preserving for the moments when the issue is truly matter?

7:08Believe me, boys will make mistakes. They will drink too much and sometimes make fool themselves, just as most of us did when we were young. And some of us still do when we're older. Yet when you receive the call that says, Dad, can you come and pick me up? This is a proud parenting moment. It means they know that no matter what time or state they're in, the person will come for them. Someone who will not judge, will not shame them, but can assure them they will already be doing enough of that themselves. Later in life, that trust carries forward when the real problems arrive. The person on speed dials still you. If the trust is built early and protected through the teenage years, it does not disappear when they leave home. It returns stronger. Not because you demand, but because you earned it. Trust is built over years. It's the rocking them to sleep. It's playing games of hide and seek, pretending you can't find or making them giggle. It's the one time spending the car on the sideline. On the edge of the bed, saying goodnight,

8:08telling them you love them. Sitting beside them during 100 hours of learning driving, being present in the quiet moments, you know something's wrong. Boys are brilliant to raise. Yes, they will exacerbate you. They will draw ridiculous things in the sand and hope that the tide erases the evidence. They will write what their brothers has a small penis on a dusty window car. They will laugh at even appropriate television. They will test boundaries and construct ill-conceived arguments. They will engage in banter that is sharp, colorful, and sometimes crosses the line. Time and time again are here. Boys are broken. No, they're not. They're definitely in perfect and they need guidance. They are shaped far more by what we model them, by what we tell them. All they have been watching us, all their lives. Our son's characters cannot be formed by some dynamic outside of molding them in a few workshops. Real prevention is not about reshaping boys.

9:10It's about modeling character of the boys will inspired by and rise to. The real question is whether as a father you are prepared to be the character you want your sons not to only grow into, but to surpass. Returning to the sporting field, I saw a damage done by fathers who confused hardness with character. I saw boys bench for entire gains because the score was tight. I saw a seven-year-old shame for missing a tackle. I saw tears mocked. And I saw the difference when boys were coached with warmth and standard. I saw the look of adoration on their faces when their fathers were present with encouragement and steadiness. Later in life, Oliver and his friends lived in a world of Snapchat and memes. Yes, their dangers were social media, but it's also connection and belonging. I saw it. Young men piled into bed together, phones in hands and Snapchat and sending memes to each other. These are the same young men who spoke respectfully about women. They formed genuine loyal friendships. Their girlfriend and female friends felt safe.

10:10They were trusted and I know because the events, the girls in their lives, would tell me they're good ones. This did not happen by accident. It grew slowly over the years. And this is the standard that's consistently modeled at home and reinforced every day. Fathers, mothers, coaches, teachers, mentors, people who showed up. So dear fathers of sons, listen to them. Read them. Correct them. Forgive them. Apologize when you fail. Model strength without cruelty humor, without humiliation and confidence without entitlement. You will make mistakes. Most can be repaired. But absence cannot. I was not perfect. I never will be. But I was and I always will be there for my darling sons. And now, in the chasm left by losing Oliver, I see clearly what presence built. I no longer see my sons as boys. I see them as men forged in love and are now tested by loss. Men of courageous character. Men who through tragedy

11:10have been required to stand upright and face grief. At each funeral they carried Oliver with love, tenderness and dignity. Now they carry his memory in the same. I have watched our sons seek their mothers embrace. And the same motion stand beside her with quite strength as they instinctively trying to shield her from the pain. No mother should ever bear. Most of all what gives the greatest solace is I've seen them turn to each other without hesitation, without instruction to love, protect and support. That is the legacy of fathering. My four boys have made me proud beyond words. As such young age they have surpassed me in character, courage and steadiness. And this is all as far as we can never, ever. And all we can ever hope for. But there is one more thing I hope in writing this letter to you. That as far as reading this, you will act and choose to present in your present in your son's life. Presence costs nothing. It simply requires you to show up because one day without warning,

12:11the tomorrow's night never run out. And you will yearn for the rest of your life the minutes you could have spent with him. Love a dare. Well, I can't talk about that being better written. And there's a lot of fathers listening to us today. We are going to put that letter on our Facebook page and our Instagram page. But I strongly, strongly recommend people absolutely just make the time. It is so, so important. This year's Rural Queens landed a year with Ben Dobin across the Resonate Broadcast Network.