On this Father’s Day, my heart keeps returning to a kind of fatherhood that doesn’t always match the perfect pictures people post.
My parents divorced when I was young. I was only five or six when it became final. Mama raised me on her own, and I saw my daddy during visits when he’d come get me. My stepmother was there too, and thankfully, very loving. Those times were special, even if they were short. I always looked forward to them.
I loved it when Daddy took me to the park. And I especially loved his stories.
“Tell me the one about the goat sucker in Puerto Rico,” I’d say, already smiling.
His eyes would light up. “¡Oh, sí!” he’d exclaim, slapping his thigh. “¡El Chupacabra! Dis thin’ went around to all the animales, suckin’ their blood dry.” Then he’d lower his voice, warning me to close the doors because “El Chupacabra is comin’ to suck your blood!”
I’d giggle and called him “muy loco,” but those silly, animated moments made me feel close to him.
As a little girl, I was sure I had the best daddy in the world, even though he wasn’t there every day. Of course, there were moments I wanted more. More time. More ordinary days. More closeness. That distance left a quiet ache I carried for years.
But looking back now, I can see the pieces he did give me. He made me feel like I mattered. He showed up when he could. And somehow, those moments stayed with me.
I used to focus so much on what was missing that I overlooked what was there. Healing, for me, began when I started holding onto those small, good things instead of only replaying the absence.
I also came to understand something deeper: God meets us in the gaps people leave behind. Where love felt inconsistent, God was steady. Where presence felt limited, He never was.
This Father’s Day, I’m choosing gratitude for what I was given instead of dwelling on what I wasn’t. Thank you, Daddy, for the hugs, the park visits, the laughter, the wild stories, and the love that found its way to me, even across distance. I appreciate you now in ways I couldn’t as a child.
To every daughter whose story includes distance, divorce, or a father who wasn’t there as much as she needed: your feelings are real. The longing doesn’t just disappear. But there is still something good worth holding on to, and healing is possible.
And to the fathers reading this, whether you’re biological, step, or simply doing your best to show up – please keep going! Even an imperfect presence leaves a mark.
From my heart to yours.
For more stories about Daddy, please visit https://maryaperez.com/2025/08/16/i-no-spic-inglish/
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