In the vast library of Conway Twitty’s music, filled with chart-toppers and love ballads that made him “The High Priest of Country Music,” one song stands apart for its raw tenderness and universal truth: “That’s My Job.” Released in 1987 on his album Borderline, this ballad wasn’t about passion or heartbreak—it was about something even deeper: the love between a father and a son.
Written by Gary Burr, the song tells the story of a boy who looks to his father for guidance and reassurance through the many stages of life. As the child grows, his fears change—from nightmares in the dark to the uncertainty of adulthood—but the father’s response never wavers: “That’s my job, that’s what I do. Everything I do is because of you.” And when the son finally faces the heartbreak of losing his father, he realizes that love, protection, and sacrifice don’t end with death—they live on in memory and legacy.
When Conway Twitty recorded the song, it became more than just another track on an album. His smooth, heartfelt delivery made it sound like he was speaking directly to his own children—and by extension, to every listener who had ever leaned on the strength of a parent. Unlike many of his sensual love songs, this one was pure, unfiltered devotion. You could hear the lump in his throat, the quiet ache in his baritone, as if he was reliving his own memories while singing.
For fans, especially older listeners, the song was devastatingly relatable. Everyone has a moment in life when they realize the people who raised them won’t always be there. “That’s My Job” became a soundtrack for that realization. Parents wept because they understood the sacrifices they had made, often quietly, for their children. Sons and daughters cried because they remembered the times their parents comforted them through fears big and small. And those who had already lost a father or mother found in the song a bittersweet comfort—painful in its truth, but beautiful in its reminder of love’s endurance.
Though it was never one of Conway’s highest-charting singles, “That’s My Job” grew into something greater than a radio hit. It became a staple at funerals, family gatherings, and tribute events—a song people turned to when they needed words for the feelings they couldn’t express themselves. Conway Twitty, known for his ability to sing about romance with unmatched intimacy, had given the world a gift that went beyond lovers—it was a ballad for families, for generations.
Tragically, just a few years later, Conway passed away in 1993. For his children and countless fans, “That’s My Job” became even more poignant. The man who had sung about a father’s devotion left behind a legacy of music that would continue to comfort long after his own voice was silenced.
That’s why “That’s My Job” endures as one of Conway Twitty’s most powerful songs. It is not flashy. It is not dramatic. But in its simplicity, it captures one of life’s deepest truths: the bond between parent and child, unbreakable, timeless, and defined by love.
