My Father Went Fishing with His Friends and Forgot My 18th Birthday

Ryder’s 18th birthday was supposed to be fun and memorable. But it ended up being disappointing because his dad chose a fishing trip with friends instead of celebrating with him. This wasn’t the first time Ryder felt hurt by his dad, but what happened next changed his view forever.

My name is Ryder, and I just turned 18. Before I share my birthday story, let me take you back a bit. Life was pretty normal until I turned seven. That’s when my parents began arguing a lot. I didn’t understand why, but I could feel the tension.

When I was eight, my dad left. I remember it clearly. My mom sat me down and said softly, “Ryder, sweetie, your dad won’t live with us anymore. But you can still see him anytime you want, okay?”

My heart pounded. “But why, Mom? Did I do something wrong?” I asked, feeling scared and confused.

Mom’s eyes filled with tears, but she tried to smile. “No, honey, this isn’t your fault.”

“Then why is Dad leaving?” I asked, desperate to understand.

She sighed deeply. “Sometimes, grown-ups just can’t stay together. Your dad and I tried really hard, but some things don’t work out.”

“Can’t you try harder?” I pleaded, not wanting to believe her.

She hugged me tightly. “We did try, Ryder. For a long time. But sometimes, the kindest thing is to live apart. Your dad and I will always love you, but we won’t be in the same house.” And with that, they divorced.

After the divorce, Mom got a job as an elementary school teacher. She worked hard to care for me. I’m very grateful for all she did. But my dad? He slowly faded from my life. He was always busy with work, friends, or fishing—especially fishing.

Every weekend, he’d go fishing with his friends, even when Mom reminded him I’d be visiting. Despite this, a part of me still wanted his attention. I hoped he’d see me and be proud. So, I spent years trying to get his approval, hoping he’d realize I needed him. But I was wrong.

As my 18th birthday got closer, I thought maybe this time would be different. Turning 18 is a big deal, right? I planned a small party with Mom and a few friends. I even texted Dad, and his reply gave me hope: “Sounds great! I’ll try to be there.”

When the day came, Mom went all out. She decorated, baked my favorite cake, and even surprised me with a guitar I’d wanted for months. Friends arrived, filling the house with laughter and excitement.

But hours passed, and there was still no sign of Dad. I kept checking my phone, hoping for a message, but nothing came. Finally, I couldn’t wait anymore and called him. When he picked up, I heard waves and people talking in the background.

“Dad, it’s my birthday,” I said, trying not to sound too desperate.

“Oh, right. Happy birthday!” he replied casually. “I’m out on the lake with the guys. I’ll catch you later, okay?”

I hung up, feeling my heart sink. Tears blurred my vision, and I rushed to my room, trying to hide my hurt. Mom found me there, sitting alone. She sat beside me and put her arm around me. “I’m sorry, honey. You know how he is.”

“I know,” I whispered, trying to stay strong, but inside, I felt crushed.

The days after my birthday felt blurry. I pretended everything was fine, but deep down, I felt invisible. Dad’s absence made me feel unimportant. Then, a week later, he called, acting like nothing had happened.

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

Part of me wanted to say forget it, but a small part of me still held onto hope. So, I agreed. When I arrived at his house, he greeted me with a big smile and handed me a long, wrapped package. As I unwrapped it, my heart sank—it was a fishing rod.

“What do you think?” he asked proudly. “We can go fishing together sometime!”

The fishing rod wasn’t just a bad gift; it reminded me of all the times he wasn’t there for me, a symbol of what took him away from me.

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

He didn’t seem to notice how I really felt. “I figured it was time you learned the ropes. You’ll have fun!” He suggested we go fishing the next weekend, but I knew I couldn’t keep pretending everything was okay.

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

He frowned for a moment, then smiled. “No worries, we’ll find another time.” But deep down, I knew we wouldn’t, and for the first time, I was okay with that.

As I left his house, holding the fishing rod, I realized it was time to let go of the dream of a close relationship with him. I couldn’t keep chasing someone who wouldn’t be there for me.

In the months that followed, I focused on those who truly cared about me—my mom, my friends, and myself. I threw myself into my music, practiced guitar for hours, and started helping Mom more around the house. I was grateful for everything she had done for me.

One evening, as we washed dishes together, Mom asked, “Have you heard from your dad lately?”

“No, but it’s okay. I’m done waiting for him to show up,” I replied.

She looked at me with a mix of sadness and understanding. “I’m sorry it turned out this way, Ryder. I always hoped…”

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

As time passed, I learned that my worth wasn’t tied to my dad’s attention. I found strength in the love around me and realized that some people won’t be what you need them to be—and that’s okay.

The fishing rod still sits in my closet, untouched. But now, it’s not a symbol of loss; it’s a reminder of what I gained—self-respect, resilience, and the power to let go of what I can’t change.

What would you have done in my place?

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