Ryder’s 18th birthday should have been a joyous occasion, but the absence of his father cast a pall over the festivities. The fact that his father preferred a fishing trip with friends over spending time with him exacerbated his disappointment. However, what happened next brought Ryder to a new perspective.

I am Ryder, and I recently turned 18. Before I get into the story of my birthday, let me give you a background on my life. Until the age of seven, my life was fairly ordinary. That’s when my parents started arguing. I didn’t entirely understand what was going on, but I could feel the tension in the air.

By the age of eight, my father had passed away. I remember my mother sitting me down and gently explaining, “Ryder, honey, your father will no longer live with us. But you may still see him when you want, okay?” My heart skips a beat.

“But why, Mom?” “Have I done something wrong?” Mom’s eyes welled with tears, but she smiled softly. Oh no, honey. You did nothing wrong. This is not your fault at all.

“Then why is Dad leaving?” I inquired, searching for answers.

She took a deep breath. “Well, sometimes adults just can’t live together anymore. Your father and I worked very hard to make things work, but things don’t always go as planned.”

“Can’t you try harder?” I appealed, unwilling to face the reality.

She grabbed me into a hug. “We tried, Ryder. For a long time. However, sometimes the kindest thing we can do is live apart. Your dad and I will always love you, and that will never change. We simply won’t be living in the same house anymore.” And then my parents divorced.

Following the divorce, Mom became an elementary school teacher, working tirelessly to provide for me. I’ll always be grateful for that. But what about my dad? He became like a ghost in my life, constantly preoccupied with job, friends, and his interests, particularly fishing.

Every weekend, he’d go fishing with his mates, even when Mom reminded him that I’d be there. Despite everything, a part of me still craved his attention. I wanted him to notice and be proud of me. So I spent years attempting to get his approval, thinking that one day he would recognize how much I needed him. But I was mistaken.

As my 18th birthday neared, I hoped he would show up this time. After all, turning eighteen is a significant milestone. I had arranged a little party with Mom and a few close friends. I even contacted Dad about it, and his response gave me hope: “That sounds amazing! I’ll attempt to be there.”

The big day arrived, and Mom went all out—decorating the house, making my favorite cake, and even surprising me with a new guitar I had been wanting for months. Friends began to arrive, and the house soon became filled with laughter and excitement.

However, Dad remained unaccounted for as the hours passed. I kept checking my phone, hoping for a message, but there was nothing. Finally, I could not bear it any longer and called him. When he finally picked up, I could hear waves and commotion in the background.

“Dad, it’s my birthday,” I said, attempting to mask my distress.

“Oh, okay. “Happy birthday,” he responded nonchalantly. “I am out on the lake with the boys. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

I hung up as tears blurred my vision. I dashed to my room and hid there till Mom discovered me. She sat next to me, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. “I apologize, honey. “You know how he is.”

“I know,” I whispered, attempting to seem tough, but inside I was crushed.

The days following my birthday were a fog. I pretended everything was alright, but I felt invisible. Dad’s absence reminded me that I was not important enough to him. Then, one week later, Dad called. He acted as if nothing had occurred.

“Hey, I got you a gift,” he announced. “Want to come over and get it?”

Half of me wanted to urge him to forget it, but another half still clung to that glimmer of hope. So I agreed. When I arrived at his place, he smiled and handed me a large, strange package. As I unwrapped it, my heart sank: it was a fishing pole.

The fishing rod was more than simply an unsuitable gift; it was a sign of his absence, a reminder of the very activity that had separated him from me.

“Thanks, Dad,” I said with a fake smile. “It’s… great.”

He did not appear to notice my lack of interest. “I decided it was time for you to learn the ropes. “You’ll have fun!” He then suggested that we go fishing the following weekend, but I knew I couldn’t keep pretending things was okay.

“I… “I can’t come next weekend, Dad,” I replied. “I’ve got plans with Mom.”

He grimaced for a time, then smiled again. “No worries, we’ll find another time.” But I knew we wouldn’t, and for the first time, I was content with it.

As I left his house, clutching the rod, I realized it was time to let go of the fantasy and embrace reality. I couldn’t continue following someone who couldn’t be there for me. Over the next six months, I focused on the people who truly cared about me: my mother, my friends, and, most importantly, myself. I immersed myself in my music, practicing guitar for hours and became more helpful around the house, appreciative for everything Mom had done for me.

One evening, when we were doing dishes, Mom inquired, “Have you heard from your father lately?”

“Nah, but that’s okay. I said, “I’m done waiting for him to show up.”

She looked at me with both pity and understanding. “I am sorry things turned out this way, Ryder. “I have always hoped…”

“I know, Mom,” I hugged her. “But I’ve got you, and that’s more than enough.”

As time passed, I realized that my worth was not dependent on Dad’s attention. I found strength in the love and support that surrounded me, and I discovered that sometimes people aren’t who you need them to be—and that’s good.

The fishing rod is still sitting in my closet, untouched. It serves as a reminder, not of what I lost, but of what I gained—self-esteem, resilience, and the capacity to let go of what I cannot alter.

What would you have done if you were in my position?