My 6-Year-Old Asked Her Teacher, ‘Can Mommy Come to Donuts with Dad Instead? She Does All the Dad Stuff Anyway’

A woman in a car | Source: Midjourney

I am everything a dad should be.

And he… he just is. He’s there. Physically, yes. His presence is a constant, quiet hum in the background of our lives. But that’s all it is. A hum. A shadow. A ghost in the machine.

When did it start? Slowly, insidiously. First, I picked up the slack because he was “tired” or “preoccupied.” Then, because I was better at it. Then, because if I didn’t, it just wouldn’t get done. And finally, because I just couldn’t bear to see her disappointed again, waiting for a promise that would never materialize.

I built an elaborate dance around his absence, a silent symphony of excuses and diversions. “Daddy’s busy with work.” “Daddy needs some quiet time.” “Daddy’s not feeling well.” Each lie a tiny brick in the wall I constructed around her, trying to shield her from a truth I couldn’t bear to face myself.

A shabby man near a car | Source: Midjourney
A shabby man near a car | Source: Midjourney

The resentment grew, a poisonous vine strangling the love that once blossomed so freely. I’d look at him, sitting in his chair, staring blankly, and a cold fury would seep into my bones. Don’t you see what I’m doing? Don’t you see what you’re missing? Don’t you care?

Then the guilt would swamp me. How dare I think that? He can’t help it. This isn’t his fault.

But then the weariness would return, an exhaustion so profound it settled deep in my bones. The loneliness, a cavernous echo in the middle of our seemingly complete family. The burden of being both mother and father, protector and nurturer, breadwinner and emotional anchor. It was crushing.

A woman gesturing towards the side | Source: Midjourney

Continue reading…