This probably sounds harsh.
Maybe it is.
But at some point you have to stop making excuses for people just because you love them.
Even when they are your children.
That part hurts to say out loud.
I love my children. That has never been the question.
The question is: how long do you keep chasing people who clearly are not chasing you back?
How long do you keep reaching?
How long do you keep making excuses?
How long do you keep telling yourself, “Maybe this, maybe that,” because the truth hurts too much to just look at?
For a long time I kept building with the hope that one day they would want to know their father for themselves.
Not through somebody else’s version of me.
Not through a story told about me.
Me.
Who I actually was.
What I thought.
What I learned.
What I built.
What I survived.
What I was trying to become.
And if I am gone from this realm one day, I want there to be something left that says:
Your father was here.
Your father tried.
Your father loved you.
Your father was building.
That matters to me because I know what it feels like to think your own father did not try.
I carried that.
So I never wanted my children to feel like I just disappeared or did not care.
I tried.
I will continue to try in the ways that make sense.
But I do not chase anyone anymore.
And yeah, that includes my children.
Not because I do not love them.
Because love and chasing are not the same thing.
That was something I had to learn.
When it is your children, you will excuse a pattern you would have recognized immediately in anybody else.
You will say they are busy.
You will say they are going through something.
You will say maybe tomorrow.
You will say maybe next week.
You will say maybe one day.
Because that is easier than saying:
They are not showing up.
And when you finally stop looking at each situation separately and look at the whole pattern…
Man.
You see it.
Silence says something.
Distance says something.
Effort says something.
And no effort says something too.
That does not mean I hate them.
That does not mean I am angry.
That does not mean I am closing the door.
It just means I stopped pretending I do not see what I see.
They have choices too.
I taught them that.
So I have to respect that, even when I do not like the choice.
Even when it hurts me.
Even when I wish things were different.
I cannot say, “Live your life and make your own decisions,” then get mad when the decision is not the one I wanted.
That would be fake.
So the door stays open.
Always.
But I am not standing in it anymore.
I am not begging.
I am not chasing.
I am not trying to force a relationship into existence.
I am going to live.
I am going to build.
I am going to create.
I am going to leave behind enough of me that if they ever want to know who their father really was, they can.
My words will be here.
My work will be here.
My mistakes will be here.
My growth will be here.
My truth will be here.
And my love will be here too.
That is enough for me.
I know I tried.
And I will keep trying without losing myself in the process.
The door is open.
I am just not standing in it anymore.
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