My children have never met their grandfather. I haven’t seen him in over two decades. My nine-year-old son is active in baseball, playing on three teams. When I check the game schedules, the logistics overwhelm me: three uniforms, multiple drop-off locations, different equipment. I spend endless time sorting and washing. I pack for each game, including arts and crafts for my six-year-old daughter.
Watching my son play stirs mixed emotions. I encourage him from the sidelines. When he succeeds, I feel a joy that connects me to memories of my own childhood. Yet, there’s always a sense of absence. Every game, I find myself searching for someone—a man by the fence, ready to catch a ball. At times, I think he’s there, but it’s an illusion.
My father loved baseball and taught me everything about it. He attended all my games, supported me through wins and losses, and shared in my achievements. But everything changed when my parents divorced. After the split, I was 19 when I received a farewell email from my dad, marking an unexpected end to our bond.
I often wonder what my kids would call him if they had the chance to know him. However, allowing them to know him would expose them to my hidden pain. I question if they sense his absence. Do their behaviors mirror the gap left in our lives?
There’s no guidebook titled ‘How to Tell My Kids About My Estranged Father.’
I struggle to find resources that address estrangement clearly. Research highlights loneliness in family cuts, but solutions remain elusive. A 2022 YouGov poll reveals 29 percent of Americans are estranged from an immediate family member, a statistic I am part of.
My son hasn’t asked about my father, likely because he’s absent from family photos. Yet reminders linger—like a bucket of baseballs or my old glove, both tied to memories. My son sees his grandfather in my stepfather, whom my mother married years ago—a role model who embodies support and joy for my children.
In my mind, I’ve drafted many explanations for my kids. I imagine them asking if I’ll speak to my dad again or about his interests. I hesitate, unsure if sharing this story benefits them or exacerbates my own struggle. Their innocence may ease my worry about this complex tale.
Perhaps I’m protecting myself from difficult truths. Does shielding them make me a better mom? When they’re older, will they regret not knowing? The answers remain unclear.
Simpler moments bring clarity. When my kids ask about family plans, I realize the strength of their support network. My son isn’t aware of a void because, to him, it doesn’t exist. Still, I grapple with whether I can ever be complete without my father in my life.
In her forthcoming memoir, Brianna Alcorn delves into parental estrangement, offering hope and resilience to others on similar paths. Her thoughts in this article are personal reflections.
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