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I found myself thinking about my father and the relationship we have now compared to the relationship we had when I was younger. I do not think there was a particular day when everything changed between us. It happened gradually as I grew older and began to understand things that I was too young to notice before. The conversations became fewer, the distance became more noticeable, and being emotionally disconnected from him started to feel normal. It is difficult to admit that someone who has always been a part of my life can also feel like a someones that I barely know anymore. When I was younger, I never questioned whether my father cared about me because I did not know how to measure a parents presence beyond simply being there. As I grew older, I began to need more than physical presence. I wanted someone who would ask how I was doing, listen to when something was bothering me, and notice when I am not okay without having me to explain everything first. There were many moments when I needed that kind of presence from him but I learned to not expect it. I stopped telling him about the things that mattered to me because I already convinced myself that it would be easier to handle them alone. What hurts the most is that I cannot say that I completely stopped caring for my father. In fact, I think I became distant because I cared too much and I did not know what to do with the disappointment. There is a certain kind of sadness in getting used to someones absence while they are still physically present in your life. Sometimes, even the smallest things reminds me of people and moments I thought I had already learned to leave behind. Whenever I hear the “You’re a Big Girl Now” by The Stylistics, I find myself thinking about someone I still associate with the song. I cannot fully explain why it affects me that way, but every time it plays, the memories seem to return quietly, reminding me that some people can remain a part of our thoughts even when we no longer have the same place in each other's lives and that is what makes certain memories difficult to let go of. Not because we want to return to them, but because they once meant something to us. I used to wonder why I no longer felt the same closeness I had when I was a child, but I was slowly protecting myself from wanting something I was afraid I would not receive. I became quiet and less willing to ask for his attention. Somewhere along the way, I stopped waiting for him to reach out. That is also why certain memories affect me more than I expect them to. They remind me of the version of myself who still believed that people would always remain, and that closeness, once formed, would never have to be questioned.
Today, I realized that I do not want to spend the rest of my life pretending that our distance does not affect me. I know that I cannot change the past and I cannot force my father to become emotionally present in the exact way I once wished he would be. I also recognize that I have contributed to the silence between us by keeping my feelings to myself for so long. If I want to repair our relationship, I have to be willing to communicate honestly even if doing it makes me uncomfortable. I want to tell him that I missed him, not because I want to blame him for everything that happened, but because I want him to understand the part of my life that I had to grow through without the feeling emotionally close to him. I do not expect one conversation to repair years of distance. Perhaps we will not immediately know what to say to each other, and rebuilding our relationship will take more patience than I imagine. Still, I would rather take a difficult first step than continue allowing silence to decide the future of our relationship. I am beginning to understand that repairing a relationship does not mean returning to the past or pretending that I was never hurt. It means accepting what happened, acknowledging the feelings that came from it, and choosing to leave room for something better. I may still carry the hurt of feeling emotionally absent from my father's life, just as I may still carry memories of people who are no longer part of my present. But carrying those memories does not mean I am refusing to move forward. Sometimes, it simply means that they were once important enough to leave something behind.