Last year, my mother surprised me with a box of childhood photographs. She had been sorting through some old things, and I honestly didn’t expect to see this box. Until that moment, I only had a handful of pictures of my father. He left when I was just nine years old, frequently drifting in and out of my life due to his battle with addiction. By the time he passed away, many had distanced themselves from him, discarding memories and photographs of his life.
As I sifted through the images, a small note fell to the floor. It was the heartfelt message I had penned to my father the night he left our family. I was so young and remember vividly overhearing him tell my mother about an affair during a conversation behind their closed bedroom door. At that moment, I sensed a heavy change in the air, though I didn’t grasp its full significance.
While he packed his belongings, my mother sat in our car, tears streaming down her cheeks, unsure of where to go. With the help of my older sister, I wrote him a note in our living room. When he was ready to leave, I handed it to him, convinced that my words could sway him.
“Roses are red, Violets are blue, If you get a divorce, I’ll be blue too.”
He read it, exhaled, and tossed the note onto the table without a word. He donned his boots, grabbed his bag, and walked out. In that moment, I felt a wave of guilt wash over me, as if my note had failed to change our fate. Looking back, I wonder if it evoked the remorse he should have felt in that pivotal moment.
When I later rediscovered that note, my emotions turned from confusion to a deep sense of anger. After he left, he drifted in and out of my life until his passing ten years later, primarily during his stints in jail. It was ironic; during those times, I knew exactly where to find him. He was sober and, for a brief moment, genuinely happy to see me.
Only after becoming a father myself did I fully comprehend what my father had walked away from that night. He didn’t just abandon my mother; he turned his back on countless beautiful moments: bedtime stories, family movie nights, parent-teacher conferences, warm embraces, holiday celebrations, camping adventures, and so much more.
He missed the joy of creating memories that have made my past twelve years as a father the richest of my life. Being present for my children is irreplaceable. Yes, parenting can be stressful, but the rewards are immeasurable. Now that I’ve experienced these moments, I find myself even more frustrated with my father for denying us both those special times.
He often said, “You’ll understand one day,” and he was right. It’s only now that I grasp the full extent of what we lost. Many fathers express that they can’t imagine life without their children, and I can relate. However, I also understand what life looks like without a father. I have enough empathy for my own children to ensure they never experience that loss.
Divorce can happen, but true fatherhood never ends. The moment I saw that note, I was hit with an overwhelming realization. I finally understood how much was lost the night my father left, and my commitment to being a devoted father has never been stronger. I know exactly what I missed and look forward to all that lies ahead, filled with love and care for my children, as every father should.
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