the weight of absence

In the reality of life, not everyone is fortunate enough to have their father present. Some live with the ache of never having met them, while others face his absence for reasons they don’t understand.

This isn’t a competition to begin with, every father needs to know their responsibility, it’s not supposed to be an option. Big respect to all the fathers who are doing great out there.

But, have you ever felt like you had a father who was physically present, but emotionally and mentally absent?

Because unfortunately I do, and it hurts.

It has been my reality for a long time now, and it’s shaped who I am, making me stronger in some ways, but also more vulnerable. He’s still here, but there’s a wall between us. I don’t feel understood, and his love feels distant. I long for his understanding, but it never comes.

I miss my dad.

I was once daddy’s little girl, and I remember when he taught me English instead of our first language, tucked me in bed, did karaoke with me, made me watch movies at home, and brought me to his office every single day. Everything feels like a lifetime ago.

If we look into the reality now, he changed in many possible ways. He’s become more distant, more critical, and less involved in my life.

I miss my dad so much. The man I once knew is gone, replaced by someone who’s aggressive and distant. He’s training us for the future, but aren’t we too young for that? I wish he would ask if I’ve eaten, if I’m okay, or what happened at school. Instead, I get called selfish and he dismisses my feelings. He doesn’t see the impact of his words — how they cut deep and make me feel small like I’m worth nothing.

I receive discrimination, and it hurts more because I thought the man who I first looked up to will protect me, not make me feel worse.

You don’t want me to do the things I love, and when I’m tired after school or extra activities, you get mad. You say it’s my fault because I joined those activities, but I’m just trying to grow and learn.

Sometimes, I wonder if you even realize how your words and actions affect me. I feel like I’m losing the father I once knew — the one who listened, who cared, who loved unconditionally. Instead, I’m left with this stranger, someone who doesn’t ask if I’m okay or shows concern for my feelings.

I miss you. I wish things could be different. I wish I could feel your love again. I just want to be your little girl — not just someone you’re training for the future, but someone you truly see and understand.

Is this really part of growing up, and does it have to be this painful? Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know the answer. But I do know that I’m not giving up on him, or on us. I’ll keep trying to understand, to communicate, and to find a way back to the father I miss so much.

Maybe, just maybe, we can find a new kind of relationship – one that honors the past but also looks at the future. And maybe, that’s what growing up is really about.

Despite everything, when I look at him, I still see someone I love. Even though he’s different now, I still care. Maybe someday, things will go back to how they were. That’s what I hope for.