Ryder’s 18th birthday should have been one of the happiest days of his life, a moment to celebrate a major milestone. But instead, it was overshadowed by a deep disappointment: his dad had chosen to go fishing with his friends instead of spending the day with him. What followed, though, changed Ryder’s perspective on everything.
My name is Ryder, and I recently turned 18. But before I get into the story of my birthday, let me tell you a little about my life. Things were pretty normal until I was seven. That’s when the fighting between my mom and dad started. At the time, I didn’t fully understand what was going on, but I could definitely feel the tension.
By the time I turned eight, my dad was gone. I remember the day so clearly when my mom sat me down, her voice gentle but serious. “Ryder, sweetie, your father won’t be living with us anymore. But don’t worry, you can still see him whenever you want, okay?”
My heart pounded. “But why, Mom? Did I do something wrong?” I asked, my voice shaky with fear.
Mom’s eyes filled with tears, but she gave me a soft smile. “Oh no, honey, you didn’t do anything wrong. This isn’t your fault, not at all.”
“Then why is Dad leaving?” I needed to know, desperate for answers that made sense.
She took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “Sometimes, grown-ups just can’t stay together. 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 what she was saying.
She pulled me into a tight hug. “We did, Ryder. We tried for a long time. But sometimes, the kindest thing we can do is to live apart. Your dad and I will always love you, that will never change. We just won’t be living in the same house anymore.” And just like that, my parents were divorced.
After the divorce, my mom took a job as an elementary school teacher and worked really hard to provide for me. I’ll always be grateful 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 my mom reminded him that I’d be visiting.
Despite everything, a part of me still craved his attention. I wanted him to notice me, to be proud of me. So, for years, I tried to win his approval, hoping that one day he’d realize how much I needed him. But that day never came.
As my 18th birthday got closer, I hoped things would be different. Turning 18 is a big deal, right? I planned a small party with my 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 day finally arrived, and Mom went all out—decorating the house, baking my favorite cake, and even surprising me with a new guitar I’d been wanting 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 nothing came. 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 reminded him, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice.
“Oh, right. Happy birthday!” he replied, like he’d almost forgotten. “I’m out on the lake with the guys. I’ll catch you later, okay?”
I hung up, feeling the sting of tears in my eyes. I ran to my room and stayed there until Mom found me. 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 like I was breaking.
The days after my birthday were a blur. I pretended everything was fine, but deep down, I felt invisible. Dad’s absence made me feel like I wasn’t important to him. Then, a week later, he called me. He acted 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 genuinely 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!
