So I agreed.
A few hours later, I was standing outside his house.
‘Here’s my boy! Come on in,’ he smiled, ‘I have something for you.’
He led me into the living room, where a long, mysterious package was leaning against the wall. When I unwrapped it, my heart sank.
Dad handed me a fishing rod with a proud grin.
‘What do you think?’ he asked. ‘We can go fishing together sometime!’
I stared at the fishing rod, feeling as if I had been punched in the stomach. It was a real betrayal, wrapped in shiny paper.
It showed that he hadn’t thought about what I might want or need. He had given me a symbol of his absence.
The fishing rod reminded me of the very activity that had stolen him from me.
‘Thanks, Dad,’ I forced a smile. ‘That’s… great.’
He didn’t seem to notice my lack of enthusiasm.
‘I decided it was time you learned the ropes. You’ll have fun!’
I nodded.
‘So how about next weekend?’ he asked. ‘My friends and I are planning a trip. You can join us!’
I looked at him.
I really looked at him.
And then everything suddenly became crystal clear.
The fishing rod wasn’t just an unfortunate gift, it was proof that I would never be his priority.
It also helped me realise that he wasn’t inviting me into his world. He was just trying to fit me into the gaps between his real interests.
‘I… I can’t come next weekend, Dad,’ I said. ‘I have plans with Mum.’
He frowned for a second, but then his smile returned.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘we’ll find another time.’
I knew we wouldn’t. And for the first time, I accepted it.
As I left his house with my fishing rod in my hands, I felt something change inside me. I realised that I couldn’t keep chasing after someone who couldn’t be there for me.
It was time to let go of my fantasies and accept reality.
Over the next few months, I focused on the people who genuinely cared about me. Who were they? My mum, my friends and, of course, myself.
In addition, I immersed myself in music, spending hours playing the guitar.
I also started helping my mother more around the house to thank her for everything she had done for me over the years.
One evening, as we were washing the dishes together, my mother asked, ‘Have you heard anything from your father lately?’
I shook my head. ‘No, but that’s okay. I’m tired of waiting for him to show up.’
She looked at me sadly. ‘I’m sorry it turned out this way, Ryder. I always hoped…’
‘I know, Mum,’ I said, hugging her. ‘But I have you, and that’s more than enough.’
She held me tight. ‘You’re an amazing young man, Ryder. Never forget that.’
Over time, I realised that my worth wasn’t tied to my dad’s attention. I found strength in the love and support that surrounded me.
Besides, Dad never changed. He continued to go about his business, meet with friends, and live in a world where there was no place for me.
His actions taught me a valuable lesson: sometimes people can’t be the way you want them to be, and that’s okay. I also learned that it’s important to find happiness within yourself and cherish those who truly see and support you.
The fishing rod? It’s still in my closet, untouched.
Sometimes I think about selling it, but I keep it as a reminder. Not of what I lost, but of what I gained. Self-respect, resilience, and the ability to let go of what I cannot change.
What would you have done in my place?