This spring, my son moved out of the house. Soon after, my daughter came to stay, and my older kids are headed north. It’s just Tania and me now — and it feels really quiet. Too quiet, in fact.
As I sit here in this spacious, silent home, I’ve been reflecting on my role as a dad.
As a father, I’ve realized, sometimes more than anything, I’m just trying to do the best I can, even when I’m not entirely sure what that looks like.
I didn’t have a typical father figure growing up. My dad worked incredibly hard — harder than anyone I’ve known — but emotionally, he wasn’t there for me. He was dedicated to his job, and while he instilled in me the value of hard work, our connection was lacking. It wasn’t until I was 30 that we really started to bond.
I’m not complaining; it just was what it was. However, when I think back on my own experiences as a father, these memories inevitably surface as I navigate this new phase of life.
Looking back, I recognize that I wasn’t around enough when my kids were younger. My job, well… it took time away from them. We had open discussions as a family about it. When I got the chance to change careers in 2006, we talked it over because we understood it would shift everything. We made that decision together.
Now, as I wander through this big house, I consider what really matters. Honestly, if everything here disappeared, the only thing I’d genuinely long for is my kids.
The reality of fatherhood
I think many can relate to this: as a dad, your main responsibility seems to be providing. You’re not necessarily the one the little ones turn to in those early years. You witness the deep bond between your wife and the kids and wonder, well… where do you fit? It’s a strange feeling, to say the least.
But over time, I’ve learned that being a dad is about more than just being a provider. You might not feel that immediate connection that mothers often have.
Then, around age seven, something shifts. That’s when things start to feel a bit more magical. You sense a deeper connection during that sweet spot before adolescence hits — when everything gets a bit awkward and both sides seem to be at odds. Those few years, though, felt golden.
But then everything changes.
Once kids enter their teen years, they tend to pull back. Relationships can become strained. They go to mom for comfort, leaving dad feeling a little lost, trying to figure out where he stands. And that’s okay; it’s a part of life. Still, I can’t help but wish things were different when they start forging their own paths.
There’s a profound sense of loss I feel. As a dad who wasn’t always present, I was just trying to provide. Now, I find myself questioning, “Have I done enough?”
Letting go of outcomes
The hardest aspect of fatherhood might just be letting go of the need for specific outcomes. My wife often reassures me, saying, “It’ll all be fine.” I believe her, I really do. But it’s tough not to get caught in this endless loop of self-doubt. Did I make the right choices? Did I do enough? Can I fix this?
This isn’t just a father’s struggle; it’s a life thing. I used to spend too much time looking ahead, planning everything out in detail. I could always envision the future and work hard toward it. However, at this point in life, I’m learning to release my grip on the expected outcomes. Whether it’s the world’s injustices or the personal battles we all go through, it’s a journey.
That doesn’t mean we’re disengaged; it just means we need to stop fixating on a particular outcome. Life is unpredictable, and the paths may not align with what I initially imagined.
I’ve always been someone who could visualize the future and strive for it relentlessly. Yet, it’s not solely about the finish line. It’s about being present in the moment, doing what feels right, and allowing God to determine the outcome.
Applying this to life
We live in a results-driven world, where success often seems paramount. But what happens if I step back from fixating on the end result for a change? What if I focus on doing the next right thing, one step at a time?
I don’t have all the answers, and I recongize that. Yet, I’ve discovered that there’s beauty in the journey itself. Even if it doesn’t yield perfect results, there’s a richness in the experience. As a father, I’ve learned that at the end of the day, I’m just trying to do my best, even if I’m not entirely sure what that looks like.
Sure, the house is quiet now, but there’s still plenty to be done. It’s time to start cherishing every moment.
