My son moved out of the house this spring. My daughter moves out in a couple of weeks, and my older kids are headed up north. Now, it’s just Tania and me — and it’s been quiet. Too quiet.

As I sit here in a house full of space and silence, my mind has been meditating on the reality of being a dad — and what that really means.

As a father, I’ve learned that sometimes the most important thing is simply showing up and doing the best I can — even when I’m not sure what that looks like.

I didn’t grow up with the model of fatherhood that I now find myself trying to live out. My dad wasn’t present. He worked hard — harder than most people I’ve ever met — but he wasn’t there for me the way I needed him to be. My dad was passionate about his job, and that job was providing for the family. He taught me about hard work, but there wasn’t much emotional connection. We didn’t start developing any real relationship until I was 30.

I’m not complaining. That was just the reality. But such memories inevitably materialize as I reflect on my own experience as a father and try to navigate this new chapter in my life.

When my kids were little, it was clear that I wasn’t home enough. And looking back, I knew that my work — this job — was costing me time with them. But we all talked about it as a family. When the opportunity to make this career change came in 2006, we discussed it openly because we knew it would change everything, for better or for worse. We made the decision as a team.

Now that they’re moved out, I walk around in this big house filled with all this stuff, considering whether anything was worth it. In the end, it’s just stuff. Everything in my home could be gone, and all I would miss are the kids.

The reality of fatherhood

Something I thought — and I think many others can relate — is that you think that your main job is to provide. You’re not needed in the same way mom is. You’re not the one the baby looks to in those early years. You watch your wife bond with the child, and you wonder where you fit in. It’s a strange feeling.

But as I’ve come to learn, you are needed in more ways than just a provider. You just don’t always get the immediate connection that mothers do.

A special season starts around age seven when dad becomes a little magical. You can feel it. The connection is there. It’s that sweet spot before the teenage years, when everything is awkward, when both dad and kid seem to be at odds. But in those years before, it’s golden.

Then, it all changes.

As kids hit the teen years, they start to pull away. The relationship with dad often becomes strained. They turn to mom when they need comfort, leaving dad in the background, unsure of where he stands. And that’s fine. That’s how it goes. But in this phase of life, as the kids start moving out and forging their own paths, I wish things were different.

I feel that loss deeply. As a father who wasn’t home all the time, I worked to provide. But now, I’m left with this ache in my chest, wondering, “Did I do enough?”

Releasing the outcome

The hardest part of fatherhood is when you stop expecting a certain outcome. My wife often tells me, “It’s going to happen. It will all work out.” And I believe her. But honestly, it’s hard not to be caught in the endless loop of second-guessing. Did I make the right decisions? Did I do enough? How can I fix this?

This struggle isn’t just about fatherhood. It’s about life. I’ve spent so much time looking ahead, planning, pointing to the horizon. I could always see the future and strive toward it. But in this season of life, I’m realizing that we also need to release our attachment to the outcome — whether it be over the injustices we see in the news cycle or the things we are wrestling with in our individual lives.

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Photo by Kelli McClintock via Unsplash

It doesn’t mean we’re not engaged. It just means we have to stop wanting a specific outcome. It’s a journey where the road is uncertain, and the destination might look different than what I expected.

I’ve always been someone who could picture the future and work relentlessly toward it. But it’s not just about getting to the destination — it’s about being present in the moment, doing the next right thing, and giving the end result to God.

Applying this to life

We live in a world obsessed with results, with winning, with reaching that end goal. But what if, just for a moment, we stopped obsessing over the outcome? What if we focused on doing the next right thing, one step at a time?

I don’t have all the answers. I’m still figuring it out. But what I do know is that there’s beauty in the process. There’s meaning in the moments, even if they don’t lead to the perfect outcome. As a father, I’ve learned that sometimes the most important thing is simply showing up and doing the best I can — even when I’m not sure what that looks like.

The house is quiet now, but the work isn’t over. There’s still plenty to do. And it’s time to focus on making each moment count.

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