I'm the 'Dad Expert' Who Couldn't Save His Own Daughter

A lesson in humility, loss, and the limits of control.

In any tragedy, there are transformative and lasting gifts to be found.

It can be damn hard to find them when so much of your experience is dominated by pain.

Even the idea of looking for them can seem impossible when all you can focus on is what you've lost.

I was on my hands and knees in my living room after the cop told me my daughter had died.

I vividly remember the fleeting thought, in the midst of agony:
"I know this will make me a better person. I don't know when, and I don't know how. But it will."

I knew that because it had already happened to me once when my wife passed away.

That time, it took me five years to look at that experience and see myself as anything other than a victim.

Eventually, I came to accept one of the fundamental paradoxes of the human condition…

That our greatest gifts often emerge from our deepest tragedies.

For me, the greatest gift that has come from my daughter's death is a much-needed dose of humility.

The Dad Expert Who Couldn’t Save His Own Daughter

I run a mastermind program for dads who own businesses—to help them be better husbands, fathers, and business owners.

I thought I was supposed to be the expert.
I made that a big part of my identity.

Being a good dad is the most important thing in the world to me.

For years, I believed that if I just loved Chloe enough, if I was a good enough dad, she would heal from her mom’s suicide.

And yet, she died drinking and driving.
She almost killed four other people.

I spent my life helping men become better fathers—
And my own daughter died in a way that destroyed families.

How's that for having your self-concept shattered?

The Humility I Never Wanted - But Desperately Needed

I think back to the times I looked at other people's parenting and judged them.

I saw everything they were doing wrong and smugly thought of myself as the better parent.

And you know what? Their kids are still alive.

I think back to all the unsolicited advice I dispensed over the years.

I assumed I knew what was best for someone else.

After all, if they couldn’t see the answer for themselves, someone like me needed to tell them.

I often judged them for not taking it my genius guidance. They rarely did.

Before Chloe's death, I’d stopped giving much advice and started asking a lot more questions.

But I still wrestled with the urge to tell people what I thought they should do.

Now, I understand something I once resisted: I rarely know what’s best for someone else.

Even when I do, it’s a much greater gift to be present and curious enough to help them uncover it for themselves.

Because the impact of helping someone feel seen, heard, and understood lasts much longer than a passing, unwanted piece of advice.

What I Can—and Can’t—Control

Humility has given me a much different understanding of where I am powerful and where I am nearly powerless.

Where I have power:

• I can control how I choose to look at things.

• I can control my wants and intentions.

• I can control my decisions and actions.

Where I do not:

• I can't fully control the results of my actions.

• I most certainly can’t control the thoughts, words, and actions of another human being.

I had full control over wanting—desperately—to help my daughter as I realized how unmanageable her life had become.

I had full control over whether I chose to extend my hand and heart to Chloe.

Despite wanting nothing in the world more, I couldn’t make her take it.

I couldn’t save my own daughter.

And the only path I can see toward peace and healing is accepting that brutal fact.

Why Am I Telling You This?

It’s not so you feel sorry for me. And it’s not to give you advice.

It’s a reflection on how accepting our own limitations—and the humility that comes with it—can help us find peace.

It’s so you, and I, remember that letting go of what’s not in our control allows us to focus more of our hearts and minds on what is.

It’s a reminder from one human to another that there are gifts in the challenges you face.

And maybe it’ll help someone find the courage to look.

P.S. One of there the things that’s in your control is how you show up for someone who’s hurting.

If you want to learn how to support an upset grieving person (or anyone who’s upset), click below to access my Emotional Validation Masterclass. I promise it’ll be the best 27 bucks you’ve ever spent.

And love one another ♥️