I was seven years old when my dad walked out. No dramatic fight, no big explanation — just gone one day, like he never existed. At first, I thought he was coming back. I waited by the door after school, asked my mom every night if he’d called.
Eventually, I stopped asking.
What hurt the most wasn’t just that he left — it was how easy it seemed for him. He didn’t try to stay in touch, didn’t call on birthdays or holidays. It felt like he erased us from his life completely.
As I got older, I built a life without him. I had amazing friends, a supportive stepdad who stepped into the role, and a strong relationship with my mom. I told myself I didn’t need him. That I was fine.
But deep down, there was always a hole.
Then, out of nowhere, I got a message on Facebook when I was 27.
“Hey, it’s your dad. I hope you’re doing well. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”
I stared at the screen for what felt like hours. Anger, confusion, sadness — all of it came rushing back at once.
I didn’t respond right away. In fact, I ignored him for days. But curiosity got the better of me, and eventually, I replied.
We started talking — slowly at first. He apologized. Said he regretted leaving. Blamed it on being young, overwhelmed, and not knowing how to handle life as a parent. He said he wanted to reconnect.
I didn’t know how to feel.
On one hand, I hated that he could just show up after two decades like nothing happened. On the other, I couldn’t ignore the part of me that still missed having a father — even if mine had chosen to be absent.
We met in person a few weeks later. I didn’t cry. I didn’t hug him. We just sat across from each other in a quiet coffee shop, sipping drinks and trying to find common ground.
He asked about my life. I answered, but kept things surface-level. There were moments where I almost forgot how much time had passed — and then there were others where I remembered all too clearly.
I don’t know if we’ll ever have a real relationship. Maybe we will. Maybe we won’t. But I do know this: forgiveness isn’t about letting someone off the hook. It’s about freeing yourself from the weight of anger and pain.
And maybe, just maybe, that conversation was the first step toward healing.