Happy Father’s Day!
It’s been quite some time since you last spent time with the boys, and I wonder if today might be the day we break the silence. It seems fitting, after all, since this is “your day.” You are their father.
Yet, you continue to miss so much, and the reality is that you’re still not fully stepping into the role of a dad. I don’t want to make you feel guilty; this isn’t about overshadowing your significance in their lives. In fact, it’s a reminder of how much is missing.
Days like this bring a wave of sadness as I reflect on our situation. I see the distance that has grown between you and our sons, and I realize that no matter how much they and I wish for change, it may never come. They still look for you, longing for your presence, despite everything that has happened.
They haven’t seen you in a month, yet they still believe you are their hero. When you canceled on them again last weekend, their little hearts shattered. They looked at me with those innocent, hopeful eyes and asked, “Is daddy still sick?” I found it hard to hold back my tears as I gently told them, “Yes, sweetheart, daddy’s still sick. I’m sorry.”
You chose not to answer my call, saying you couldn’t bear to explain to them why they couldn’t see you… yet again. That responsibility fell to me.
It breaks my heart to watch their excitement when you promise to see them soon, only for that promise to vanish. Still, I’m grateful they can love you so deeply. Right now, they adore you the way I once did—unconditionally and without hesitation. They love you fiercely, even when it doesn’t make sense, and that’s what children do. They’re supposed to love their father that way. What I wish you understood is that this love, though fierce, is incredibly fragile. It’s your job to nurture it, not to shatter it.
I recently came across a video from two Father’s Days ago. You were playing with the boys, laughter echoing through the house. You looked healthy and happy, fully present as their dad. They squealed with delight, and in that moment, we were the family I had always dreamed we would be.
I don’t know what you were feeling back then, but that day, you were the father our boys deserved. Today, that reality feels so far away, and it’s heartbreaking.
I’ve come to terms with my own heartbreak. I’ve let you go because I’m strong enough to do that. But your sons? They are still holding on, and they may never fully let you go. You will always be their father, but whether you choose to be their dad is entirely up to you.
I am thankful that, despite your absence, the boys have positive male role models like my father and my brothers. However, it’s clear there is a void that only you can fill, a daddy-shaped gap in their hearts that they feel even at their tender age.
I feel sadness not only for them but for you as well. I realize I’m often more heartbroken for you than you are for yourself. It won’t be until your own heart breaks that you may find the motivation to change.
In the meantime, it’s your sons’ hearts that are breaking. They have a father who is not present, and they turn to me for answers about why you’re always sick and why they never see you. I wonder if you will ever grasp the importance of your role. Your own father didn’t seem to understand his, and now you’re missing yours.
But here’s my promise: I will always uphold your significance in their lives. I will never speak ill of you in front of them or diminish who you are to them. You’re doing a great job of that on your own, and if things continue this way, you may very well fade from their minds just like you have from their lives.
Regardless of your choices, you are their father, and Father’s Day is a reminder to celebrate fathers. So today, the boys and I will pick out a card for you, whether they hand it to you or we send it in the mail. They may even draw a picture for you. Then, we’ll move on with our day, just as three-year-olds do.
Still, I will carry the weight of loss in my heart—not for myself, but for you and for our sons.
Despite your decisions and the hurt they’ve caused, I want to say thank you because, while you aren’t being a dad right now, you gave me the precious gift of motherhood. Because of you, I am able to be there for every moment.
So, today, I celebrate you—not for the father you’ve been lately, but for the man who made me a mother. I hope one day you wake up, realize what you’re missing, and choose to be more than just their father, but their dad.
Until then, thank you, and Happy Father’s Day.
In Conclusion
This heartfelt message captures the complexities of love, loss, and the hope for a father to reconnect with his children. The author expresses gratitude for the gift of motherhood while acknowledging the challenges posed by the father’s absence.