Letter to My Children's Dad: This Is What You're Missing

You’re missing out on fatherhood, and all the wonderful experiences it brings. The moments that make a dad’s life worthwhile are passing you by.

After all, the magic of childhood is fleeting; it runs through your fingers like sand. The best moments we share, the most treasured memories: when these are gone, you won’t get them back.

I’m sorry to see that the charm and innocence of our children is lost on you. It saddens me to see their love and joy going to waste, as you shrug off the most precious gifts that life could have given us.

I understand the emptiness in your gaze, because I know what is missing in your heart. Incapable of meeting your obligations as a father to two boisterous little ones, you chose to spend your nights out drinking and your days recovering from the aftermath.

And all the while, the truths of the universe were here, at home. You’re missing out on fatherhood.

You’re missing so much

I kept moving forwards, just as life has taught me to do. Everything for them, my angels. I smiled at you, and wished you all the best, from the bottom of my heart, for the good of our children.

I pretended not to notice what was happening in the days after our separation. I shielded myself from the pain, and protected our children from your bad example. You’re so immature that you cannot appreciate the treasures that life has given you.

You should have been a man. You should have been someone that the children could look up to and respect. A role model, an example and a figure of responsibility in their lives.

You should have been there for them when they needed you. But you failed, and even so, they love you with all their hearts. They think of you and wait for you – in vain.

Here, our days are full of pure, deep, unconditional love. They’re filled with color and soundtracked by the harmonies of their sweet voices.

The hours fly by as we play games and sing songs and cuddle and tell silly jokes, making memories to last a lifetime.

I don’t blame you, I feel sorry for you

I don’t blame you, I feel sorry for you. I don’t hate you, either. The only things I can feel are sadness and regret.

Of course I wish things could have been different. It really does pain me to see you like this, missing out on the best things in life. But I’ve already let you go.

Time heals, but it doesn’t erase or rewind. You can keep on trying to make up for lost time, and I’ll keep on enjoying every second I spend by their side.

Go to bed with whoever you want, whenever you want. I’m the one lucky enough to sleep cuddled up with my little ones.

Keep on discovering the high life, and perfecting your hangover cures. I’m teaching my children to be artists, or doctors, or anything they could wish for or dream of.

You can boast about going out with a new woman every night, but I’m nurturing a love that will last a lifetime.

Just keep on doing what you always have, inventing excuses while I create memories. You would be astonished to see how much the children have learned, how they’ve grown and how smart they are. For me, this is no surprise – I get to see it happen every day.

I’ve been there to teach them lessons and strengthen their values. I’m not sure if you would even know how. I’m sorry that it surprises you to see their little gestures of affection and loyalty.

These come as no surprise to me. I know how close they are and how sweet they can be. My strength, and my weakness. They love me just as much as I love them.

You’re missing out on fatherhood

As long as you continue to live selfishly, always putting yourself first, you’re missing out on fatherhood and all the wonders it brings.

I can see now that this role was too much for you. After all, being a father isn’t just a biological function. It’s a full-time job, and a source of joy and satisfaction.

And now the children you claim to love are slipping away from you. You don’t know what they want, or what they’re interested in.

You have no idea of their dreams and fears, their achievements and failures, their frustrations and struggles, or what their favorite meals, songs, books or toys are.

You don’t know what they’ve learned to do, or where they excel. When they have training and competitions you never come along.

But at least I know I’ll always be there to cheer them on. I am the face they look for in the stands to reassure themselves that everything is alright.

I don’t blame you. You were just a little lost boy trying and failing to teach them to be gentlemen. You have no principles, so how could you teach them right from wrong.

You’re missing out on this role that you were never fully able to shoulder. I’m not angry with you, because I understand that you were never truly able to change.

The fact is that the day my children were born, my world changed drastically. Yours, however, remained the same. Your days and nights didn’t change.

My anger has faded now, and I can only feel sorry for you. You’re missing out on fatherhood, while I’m here, enjoying every single second with the children I love with all my heart.