The Absence Of A Father

Growing up without a biological parent is difficult, and it’s something that isn’t talked about enough. We often hear, “My mother left when I was [age]” or “My dad left when I was [age].” Or even, “My mother died at birth.” These are the stories that we’re familiar with, but what’s often overlooked is the mental and emotional toll it takes on the child.

Have you ever thought about the child who never met their mother or father? Or the child whose parent couldn’t stay because of addiction, abuse, or neglect?

There are mothers who leave their children for reasons like addiction, abusive behaviors, or simply not caring. And there are fathers who feel like the situation is too difficult and leave before the child is even born, or fathers who struggle with addiction or detachment. Some fathers are just caught in a broken system that never gave them a chance.

I’m here today to share my own experience. This post is about growing up without my dad.

I know some people might tell me I should be grateful because I have a stepdad, but it’s not the same. It’s different. While I appreciate him for being there when my mom needed him, it’s not the same as having my biological father in my life. I don’t have the stories of growing up, doing funny or silly things together. I don’t have memories of father-daughter dances, or those special father-child moments.

And what’s even harder is that I don’t know if my life would have been better or worse if he had stayed. I’ll never know. I long to know more about him beyond just his name and eye color, but those answers will always remain out of reach. And that’s one of the hardest parts.

As a young child, I couldn’t understand why my “dad” wasn’t with me. Why I had to receive gifts and letters in the mail instead of having him there with me. I remember writing letters to him, hoping somehow he would read them and connect with me, but after a while, I stopped. The truth that I would never receive those answers, never get to hear his side, never have those memories, became too painful to keep asking.

There was one thing I did get, though. He did write back to me, but I was just a kid—doodling on paper, telling him that I loved him. Looking back, I realize now that my letters were simple, childlike expressions, but at the time, I felt like I was reaching out to him, hoping that somehow it would make up for his absence.

Growing up without him created a void in my life, a space I could never fill. I’ve often found myself frustrated, especially during milestones like graduation or significant life events when I didn’t have him to turn to. I won’t have him at my graduation. I won’t have him walk me down the aisle. And those are things I’ll always have to cope with.

My mother worked incredibly hard to provide for me, but she was often absent because of her job. I didn’t understand it fully when I was younger, but as I grew older, I realized that she did everything she could. Still, I wished I could know more about my dad.

The problem was, my mother never shared much about him. In fact, she labeled him as a criminal, saying that he wasn’t worth thinking about. She couldn’t accept that addiction and substance abuse are diseases, not choices. They don’t ask to become addicted, but she couldn’t bring herself to see it that way. As a result, I never got to know my dad the way I longed to.

I remember writing letters to him, hoping that one day he would respond. And he did. But they were brief, distant, and nothing like the heartfelt conversations I had dreamed of. I was just a little girl, sending him messages of love, and in return, all I received were words that felt hollow. After a while, I stopped writing, realizing that the answers I craved would never come.

I may have a stepdad, but I still can’t escape the reality that it’s just not the same. And that’s a truth I’ve had to accept over the years. I don’t have the same memories that other people might have with their dads. I don’t have photographs, videos, or anything that really captures what it could have been like to have him in my life. All I have are a few pictures from when I was a baby.

What hurts the most is the uncertainty. I’ll never know if my life would have been better or worse with him in it, and that question will always linger in my mind.

To anyone who is growing up without a parent, or has lost a parent at a young age, I want you to know—you’re not alone. It’s okay to feel lost, and it’s okay to feel like there’s something missing. Life can be hard without both parents, but God is with you every step of the way, and He will help you through it.

If you are a parent who had to raise a child alone, or if you’ve lost your partner, it’s okay. You’re doing the best you can, and that’s all anyone can ask for. To anyone reading this who can relate, whether you’ve grown up without one or both of your parents or lost someone dear, please know that it’s okay to feel hurt, but you don’t have to carry that burden alone. Please, if you’ve connected with my story in any way, subscribe. Let’s go on this journey together.