Telha
Ryder’s 18th birthday was meant to be a celebration filled with joy and memorable moments. Instead, it became a disappointment when his dad opted for a fishing trip with friends rather than spending the day with him.
My name is Ryder, and I just turned 18. Before I dive into my birthday story, let me provide some context. Life was fairly normal until I turned seven, when my parents began to argue frequently. I didn’t understand the reasons, but I could sense the growing tension.
When I was eight, my dad left. I remember it vividly. My mom sat me down and gently said, “Ryder, sweetie, your dad won’t live with us anymore. But you can still see him anytime you want, okay?”
My heart raced. “But why, Mom? Did I do something wrong?” I asked, feeling scared and confused.
Mom’s eyes filled with tears, but she tried to put on a brave face. “No, honey, this isn’t your fault.”
“Then why is Dad leaving?” I asked, desperate for clarity.
She sighed deeply. “Sometimes, grown-ups just can’t stay together. Your dad and I tried really hard, but some things don’t work out.”
“Can’t you try harder?” I begged, unwilling to accept her words.
She hugged me tightly. “We did try, Ryder. For a long time. But sometimes, the kindest thing is to live apart. Your dad and I will always love you, but we won’t be in the same house.” And just like that, they divorced.
After the divorce, Mom found a job as an elementary school teacher, working hard to provide for me. I’m incredibly grateful for everything she did. My dad, however, slowly drifted away from my life. He was constantly busy with work, friends, or fishing—especially fishing.
Every weekend, he would go fishing with his friends, even when Mom reminded him that I would be visiting. Still, a part of me yearned for his attention. I hoped he would see me and be proud. I spent years seeking his approval, wishing he would recognize my need for him, but I was mistaken.
As my 18th birthday approached, I thought perhaps this time would be different. Turning 18 is a significant milestone, right? I planned a small gathering with Mom and a few friends. I even texted Dad, and his reply filled me with hope: “Sounds great! I’ll try to be there.”
When the day arrived, Mom went all out. She decorated the house, baked my favorite cake, and even surprised me with a guitar I had been wanting for months. Friends filled the house with laughter and excitement.
However, hours went by, and there was still no sign of Dad. I kept checking my phone, hoping for a message, but nothing came. Finally, unable to wait any longer, I called him. When he answered, I could hear waves and voices in the background.
“Dad, it’s my birthday,” I said, trying to suppress my desperation.
“Oh, right. Happy birthday!” he replied nonchalantly. “I’m out on the lake with the guys. I’ll catch you later, okay?”
I hung up, feeling my heart sink. Tears filled my eyes as I rushed to my room, trying to conceal my hurt. Mom found me sitting there alone, and she sat beside me, wrapping her arm around me. “I’m sorry, honey. You know how he is.”
“I know,” I whispered, striving to stay strong, but inside, I felt crushed.
The days following my birthday were a blur. I pretended everything was fine, but deep down, I felt invisible. My dad’s absence made me feel unimportant. A week later, he called, acting as if nothing had happened.
“Hey, I got you a gift,” he said. “Want to come by and get it?”
Part of me wanted to say forget it, but a small part still clung to hope. So, I agreed. When I arrived at his house, he greeted me with a big smile and handed me a long, wrapped package. As I unwrapped it, my heart sank—it was a fishing rod.
“What do you think?” he asked proudly. “We can go fishing together sometime!”
The fishing rod wasn’t just a disappointing gift; it served as a reminder of all the times he hadn’t been there for me, symbolizing what had taken him away.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said, forcing a smile. “It’s… great.”
He seemed oblivious to my true feelings. “I figured it was time you learned the ropes. You’ll have fun!” He suggested we go fishing the following weekend, but I knew I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine.
“I… I can’t come next weekend, Dad,” I said. “I’ve got plans with Mom.”
He frowned briefly before smiling again. “No worries, we’ll find another time.” But deep down, I knew we wouldn’t, and for the first time, I was okay with that.
As I left his house, clutching the fishing rod, I realized it was time to let go of the dream of a close relationship with him. I couldn’t keep pursuing someone who wouldn’t be there for me.
In the months that followed, I focused on those who truly cared about me—my mom, my friends, and myself. I immersed myself in music, practiced guitar for hours, and began helping Mom more around the house. I felt grateful for everything she had done.
One evening, as we washed dishes together, Mom asked, “Have you heard from your dad lately?”
“No, but it’s okay. I’m done waiting for him to show up,” I replied.
She looked at me with a blend of sadness and understanding. “I’m sorry it turned out this way, Ryder. I always hoped…”
“I know, Mom,” I said, hugging her tightly. “But I’ve got you, and that’s more than enough.”
As time went on, I learned that my worth wasn’t dependent on my dad’s attention. I discovered strength in the love surrounding me and came to realize that some people won’t meet your expectations—and that’s okay.
The fishing rod still sits untouched in my closet. But now, it’s not a symbol of loss; it’s a reminder of what I gained—self-respect, resilience, and the ability to let go of what I cannot change.
What would you have done in my place?
