
There are two ways to get this wrong.
The first is to do all the thinking and never say any of it. You read the book, you recognise yourself, you work out exactly what your father was carrying and what you've been repeating — and then you take it to the grave, having had four hundred conversations about parking and none about anything.
The second is to walk into the hardest conversation of your life without having thought about it first. That one usually ends in an argument neither of you planned, and a six-month silence afterwards.
The sequence is the product. You do the private work first, on your own, with nobody watching. Then and only then — you sit down opposite the person it concerns.
That's what these two are. In that order.
Alone. Digital. About a season's work.
Ten tabs, mapped to the book's five parts and twenty chapters. You read a part, open its tab, and answer honestly — it's a mirror, not an exam.
Built for men whose fathers are dead, absent, unknown or estranged as much as for men who can pick up the phone. Nothing in it requires him to be available, or willing.
Private. Stays on your machine. Nobody else ever reads it.
Together. Printed. One evening a week.
Twelve questions, arranged as six movements. You each answer alone, in your own handwriting, without seeing the other person's page. Then you read them out loud — one at a time, to each other's face.
Works across a kitchen table or on a video call four thousand miles apart.
The Worksheet finds the conversation. The Workbook has it.
By the time you finish the Conversations tracker you have a name, a subject and a date. The Workbook is what you do when that date arrives — so you're not improvising the most important twenty minutes of the year.
The Worksheet is Chapter 15. The Workbook is what comes after it.
The Forgiveness asks you to name the debt and draft three sentences. The Workbook is where those three sentences get said out loud to the person they're about.
You'll have said the thing before you're too late to say it.
The hardest chapter in the book is called It's Too Late. Everything in this bundle exists so that yours isn't.
And you'll have something left over.
The Worksheet is yours and stays private. The Workbook ends up signed, dated, in two handwritings, with two sealed letters inside it. One is the work. The other is the record.
Roughly twenty minutes a week for the Worksheet, and one evening a week for the Workbook. A season for the first, six to twelve weeks for the second.
The Companion Worksheet and The Father & Child Workbook
Do I need to have read the book first? For the Worksheet, yes - it's built chapter by chapter and won't make much sense on its own. The Workbook stands alone; you can hand it to someone who's never heard of the book.
Can I just buy one? Yes, both are sold separately. The bundle exists because most people who finish one want the other, and doing them in order works better than doing either alone.
My father has died. Is this still for me? Yes. The Worksheet is explicitly written for it, memory, an unsent letter, a trusted relative, private reflection. And the Workbook works in the other direction: with your own child, or with a brother, or with the person you're now the older one for.
We live in different countries. The Worksheet is yours alone anyway. The Workbook works on a video call, both of you holding a copy, cameras on, reading aloud as normal. One prompt a fortnight is a perfectly good pace.
Is this therapy? No. It's a structured reflection tool and a conversation guide, and both say so plainly. Both carry guidance on what to do if something surfaces that's bigger than a conversation, including where to get proper support.
How long does it take? The Worksheet is thirteen weeks by design. The Workbook is six to twelve weeks for most pairs. Neither is a race, and both are built to be put down and picked up again.
Dad in the Mirror tells the stories. The Companion Worksheet helps you work through yours, alone. The Father & Child Workbook helps you say it to the person on the other side of the relationship.
Read. Reflect. Write. Talk. Act.
Then come back in five years and find out what changed.
By Olatunji Fagbore