It’s not easy being a father, and as we get older when we’re not in touch every day. I feel the distance even when doing everything possible to stay connected.
Families don’t move as one mind; they’re made of individuals and folks with different priorities, histories, personalities , and different ways of seeing the world. We step into that mix carrying our own hopes, and they carry their own dangers. Sometimes it all fits. Sometimes it clashes. Most days, it’s a little of both.
We do what we can, show up when it counts, love consistently even if you can’t be physically present, and try to steady a ship you’re not always on. And remind myself that not all families begin the same way, and not all families grow the same way. But effort matters. Presence, even in pieces, matters. And the work of showing up, again and again, imperfectly but earnestly, is its own kind of love.