Fathers

Earlier this year, I was in a state of disrepair. Your mom and I had been arguing a lot, and things felt dismal—like there might not be a light at the end of the tunnel.

On Boxing Day, I found myself staring at the pictures you both had drawn for me that I’d hung on the wall. Lukas, there was the picture of you in a rocket ship with the words, I love you to the moon, and a little drawing of your face in the rocket. Zoey, there was your list of favorite things about me written on Popsicle sticks.

You were both on the floor playing with Lego, and after some time, I mustered the strength to get down there with you and play.

Your mom was upstairs. We’d just had a heavyweight bout, and for the first time, I was sure this was it—she was going to leave. As I watched you two play, I pictured the house empty, just me in it, with the unbearable silence. I thought I’d go mad.

But your mom stayed. And while the wounds didn’t heal instantly, we’re still here, still together. Still trying.

There was a day around that time when I was home alone. I don’t remember where everyone was, but the house was quiet, and I was alone with my thoughts. I knew I had to call my father. He and I hadn’t had many serious conversations about marriage or life, but I knew he’d gone through similar struggles with my mom. If anyone would understand, it would be him.

I paced around the house, the phone in my hand, weighing the decision. Finally, I dialed his number. He was at work, and at first, we joked around as we always did. But eventually, I just came out and said it:

“I don’t know what to do. We can’t stop fighting, and I feel like I’m going to lose her.”

We talked for an hour. He listened, shared, and reassured me. When I hung up, I felt better. The problems weren’t solved, but the weight was lighter.

I want you both to know that talking to your parents doesn’t have to be hard. I’ve made it hard for myself at times, and I don’t entirely know why. Maybe it’s pride, maybe its fear. But every single time I’ve swallowed that fear and reached out, the world felt greener, and calmer. I want that for you, too.

The trouble with living inside our own heads is that we convince ourselves no one understands. We think our burdens are ours alone. But the truth is, most people do understand—maybe not the exact situation, but the feelings are often the same.