Ryder’s 18th birthday was supposed to be a day full of joy and celebration. But instead, it was overshadowed by the absence of his father, who chose to go on a fishing trip with his friends rather than spend the day with him. What happened next, however, changed Ryder’s view on life.
My name is Ryder, and I recently turned 18. Before I tell you about my birthday, I want to share a bit about my life. Everything was pretty normal until I was seven. That’s when the arguments between my mom and dad began. At the time, I didn’t fully understand what was happening, but I could definitely feel the tension in the air. By the time I turned eight, my dad was gone.
I vividly remember the day my mom sat me down, trying to explain everything gently. “Ryder, sweetie, your father won’t be living with us anymore. But you can still see him whenever you want, okay?” she said, her voice soft but serious.
My heart started pounding. “But why, Mom? Did I do something wrong?” I asked, my voice trembling.
Mom’s eyes filled with tears, but she managed a gentle smile. “Oh no, honey, you didn’t do anything wrong. This isn’t your fault at all.”
“Then why is Dad leaving?” I asked, desperate for an explanation that made sense.
She sighed, taking a deep breath. “Well, sometimes grown-ups just can’t live together anymore. Your dad and I tried really hard to make things work, but sometimes things don’t turn out the way we hope.”
“Can’t you try harder?” I pleaded, not ready to accept the truth.
She pulled me into a warm hug. “We did try, Ryder. For a long time. But sometimes, the kindest thing we can do is to live apart. Your dad and I will both always love you, and that won’t ever change. We just won’t be living in the same house anymore.” And just like that, my parents were divorced.
After the divorce, Mom got a job as an elementary school teacher. She worked so hard to take care of me, and I’ll always be thankful for that. But my dad? He became like a ghost in my life—always busy with work, his friends, and especially his fishing trips. Every weekend, he’d disappear with his buddies to go fishing, even when Mom reminded him that I’d be visiting.
Even though he was hardly around, a part of me still longed for his attention. I wanted him to notice me, to be proud of me. So, I spent years trying to win his approval, hoping that one day he’d see how much I needed him. But that day never came.
As my 18th birthday got closer, I hoped that maybe, just maybe, things would be different this time. Turning 18 is a big deal, right? I planned a small party with Mom and a few close friends. I even texted Dad about it, and his reply gave me hope: “Sounds great! I’ll try to be there.”
The big day arrived, and Mom went all out—decorating the house, baking my favorite cake, and even surprising me with a new guitar I’d been dreaming about for months. Friends started arriving, and the house was soon filled with laughter and excitement. But as the hours passed, there was still no sign of Dad.
I kept checking my phone, hoping for a message, but there was nothing. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and decided to call him. When he finally picked up, I could hear the sound of waves and people talking in the background.
“Dad, it’s my birthday,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, though I felt like I was begging.
“Oh, right. Happy birthday!” he replied, like he had almost forgotten. “I’m out on the lake with the guys. I’ll catch you later, okay?”
I hung up the phone, tears blurring my vision. I rushed to my room and shut the door, trying to hide my pain. Mom found me sitting on the bed, my head down. She sat beside me, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. “I’m so sorry, honey. You know how he is.”
“I know,” I whispered, trying to be strong, but inside, I felt shattered.
The days after my birthday went by in a blur. I pretended everything was fine, but deep down, I felt like I didn’t matter. Dad’s absence reminded me that I wasn’t important enough for him. Then, a week later, he called me, acting like nothing had happened.
“Hey, I got you a gift,” he said. “Want to come over and get it?”
Part of me wanted to tell him to forget it, but another part still held onto a tiny bit of hope. So, I agreed. When I arrived at his house, he greeted me with a 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 gift; it was a symbol of all the times he wasn’t there, a reminder of the very thing that had taken him away from me.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said, forcing a smile. “It’s… great.”
He didn’t seem to notice how I really felt. “I figured it was time you learned the ropes. You’ll have fun!” He then suggested we go fishing the next weekend, but I knew I couldn’t keep pretending everything was okay.
“I… I can’t come next weekend, Dad,” I said. “I’ve got plans with Mom.”
He frowned for a moment, but then his smile returned. “No worries, we’ll find another time.” But I knew we wouldn’t, and for the first time, I was okay with that.
As I left his house holding the rod, I realized it was time to let go of the fantasy I had of us being close. I couldn’t keep chasing after someone who couldn’t be there for me. Over the next few months, I focused on the people who truly cared about me—my mom, my friends, and most importantly, myself.
I threw myself into my music, practicing guitar for hours, and started helping Mom more around the house, grateful for everything she had done for me.
One evening, as we were doing dishes together, Mom asked, “Have you heard from your father lately?”
“Nah, but it’s okay. I’m done waiting for him to show up,” I replied.
She looked at me with a mix of sadness and understanding. “I’m sorry it turned out this way, Ryder. I always hoped…”
“I know, Mom,” I said, hugging her. “But I’ve got you, and that’s more than enough.”
As time went on, I learned that my worth wasn’t tied to my dad’s attention. I found strength in the love and support of those around me and realized that sometimes people won’t be what you need them to be—and that’s okay.
The fishing rod still sits in my closet, untouched. But now, it’s not a symbol of what I lost; it’s a reminder of what I gained—self-respect, resilience, and the power to let go of what I can’t change.
So, what would you have done if you were in my place?
Share your thoughts in the comments down below!