I’m jealous. I’m envious of my male cousins. We sit and have these deep conversations about being dads, the pros and cons, the ups and downs, and even comparisons of parenting here versus back home in Montserrat.
Some of them even brag that they’re better than their predecessors, which is normal. That’s progression, right? And we always come back to the small moments that actually matter.
I watch them get active with their young children and, as an uncle, I can see it clearly. Their children are growing with them right there. They’re present. They’re shaping this new age of fatherhood in real time, in their own homes, and I’m loving what I see.
And then there’s me. Still a dad. Still their dad. Just doing it from afar, embracing parenting from a distance. Showing up in every way I can, staying ready to be whatever my boys need, despite the geographic distance that keeps us apart, even when I can’t reach out and touch them.
Holidays make that crack in my heart grow a bit wider. I remember one Christmas the wife and I told the kids it’s all about them. No gifts from us.
Boxing Day, the Christmas tree was full again, and the real big-boy gifts came out. Thinking back at this hits me like a ton of bricks. The gift giving, the singing and joking around, the cooking together, teaching them how to cook, burning something, and laughing about it.
Those are the moments that remind me what I’m working toward and why staying connected, even from a distance, is still everything, not only to them.
If you’re in this season too, I’m going to tell the truth about what it feels like, what helps, and how I’m learning to stay connected without guilt taking over.
Seeing Their World Move Ahead
There’s a unique kind of grief in long-distance co-parenting when your kids’ lives keep moving on, or at least the feeling of it, and you aren’t there to see it.
It isn’t only sadness. It’s missing them and cheering for them at the same time; the feeling of ambivalence is strong with separation anxiety, hurt and pride that you cannot escape.
I am the proudest when my kids learn new things, make friends, and become more of their authentic selves, but at the same time, I feel jealous when others take my front-row seat.
I feel guilt when I picture the moments I missed, and this grief is something I am still dealing with. It’s everyday stuff that stings.
A game I couldn’t attend.
An inside joke I didn’t get to understand in real-time.
A photo that feels like proof I’m not in the room.
Sometimes I’m having to catch myself, “They don’t need me.” Then they say “Love you, Pops,” and I remember, they do, just in a different way than before.
Two things can be true at once: I can love my kids fiercely, although I feel left out.
Here are the emotions I had to name (so they wouldn’t run my behavior):
- Grief: I’m mourning the day-to-day closeness.
- Pride: They’re growing nicely, and that’s the goal.
- Jealousy: I want time with them I can’t get back.
- Guilt: I’m judging myself for the distance under primary custody.
- Loneliness: The quiet after the call is real.
These feelings don’t mean I’m a bad parent, they mean I’m a parent who’s human.
Why Holidays Hit So Hard
Holidays come with an unspoken rule that says, “Everyone is together,” especially amid transition periods.
The whole point of a tradition is meant to be continuous. Even when they grow older, you use some backyard psychology about how it used to be.
One photo can snap me back to last year, or even five years ago, when my boys were toddlers, and I could lift them up without having to ask.
Then I’m staring at a new photo, and it feels like I’m looking through a window at a home that used to be mine.
If I’m having a rough day with holiday pictures, I keep it simple:
- Pause and breathe (before I react).
- Send love, not pressure: a quick text or voice note, no guilt bait.
- Step away from scrolling: I can be happy for them and still protect my heart.
There are times when video calls get boring, so get some tips from Zero to Three’s tips for making the most of video chats.
Do Not Allow Guilt to Run the Show
Do not, and I mean do not, let guilt replace Love that pulls you away from your responsibility.
Guilt can look like “caring,” but it often pulls me away from real connection. Here’s my quick checklist:
- I question decisions made in the past.
- I compare myself to the custodial parent who’s physically there.
- I over-call, or I disappear and call it “giving space.”
- I pick fights about schedules that aren’t really about schedules.
- I make promises I can’t keep (to soothe my own panic).
- I act like I have to “earn” my place in my child’s life. The feeling of guilt is not a life sentence unless you do nothing about it.
Being There Without Being There
With my boys, they go through phases where they want to speak to me even when they have nothing to say, and other times, I can’t pay to get a call from them. That’s when I have to be the grown-up and do the thing.
What’s helped me most is choosing a consistent routine over intensity. Also, having the best non-corny dad jokes to switch it up a little. Big gestures are nice, but kids trust what has become a habit.
A few simple talking lines I use for scheduled check-ins (especially when I don’t know what to say):
- “I miss you, and I love you. I’m still your dad, you know.” (dash of sarcasm)
- “Tell me one new thing you learned in school today.”
- “I’m proud of you. I’m here, even from far away.”
- “Do you want me to listen, or help you solve it?” (adjust for toddlers by simplifying to pictures or songs)
Making Me Part of Their Normal
I make my presence so present through virtual visitation that they keep me informed about most things.
The little things, like being unconsciously kept out of the loop, are akin to a dagger in the heart.
- A bedtime story voice note using fun storytelling tools (same time, same night each week).
- “Two highs and one low” in a 3-minute call.
- A quick math challenge (capitals of US states, addition, etc.).
- A same-day photo exchange (one picture each, no commentary required).
- A Sunday reset call (what’s coming up this week, what are you excited for?).
- Occasional snail mail or a surprise care package for that tangible connection.
I keep the time shortish; unless they want to talk, they take control of the conversation from then on.
Showing Up Without Taking Over
Being away from the family, the controlling spirit can veer its head and clog the lines of communication.
This is what I aim for:
Being involved: Stay curious, consistent, and kind.
Trying to run it all: I grill, argue, and compete.
A few do’s and don’ts that might help:
- Do ask curious questions, don’t cross-examine: “What was the funniest part of today?”
- Do stick to the schedules at their other home during transition periods, and don’t speak badly about the co-parent.
- Do offer options, don’t demand access: “Do you want to call now or after dinner?”
- Do speak calm truth, don’t make the kid responsible for my feelings.
Building a Life That Shows Me Love to
I’ve had to build a life that provides a structured environment that’s sustainable long term. Not as a replacement for my kids, but as a support for me also. Sleep, food, movement, friends, faith, work that matters, you know, the basics. (Bajadad.com)
It’s not recommended to stop them, things usually take a turn for the not so good.
Holidays have a way of bringing co-parenting stress and family dynamics to the front. A simple parenting plan, including travel arrangements and pre-planning, eliminates most of that stress.
When Encouragement Isn’t Enough
Sometimes connection tools aren’t enough, because I’m not okay. That’s not shameful, it’s information.
Healthy support can look like therapy, a parenting expert such as a parenting coach, men’s groups or support groups, trusted friends, or a faith community.
I take it seriously when I notice:
- Sleep problems that won’t ease up
- Anger that scares me
- Numbness or constant panic
- Drinking more than I used to
- I can’t function at work or at home
Reaching out doesn’t make me weak. It makes me available.
When my kids’ daily life moves on without me, it hurts because of the emotional bond.
And still, their growth and independence are the point. Their expanding world is what I wanted for them, in the child’s best interests, even when I’m not in every frame.
Raising kids is wild. You spend years preparing them for a world where they won’t need you, while quietly realizing how much you’ll always need them.
This week, I’m choosing one small ritual to start (or restart). I’m also choosing one way to build coping skills for caring for myself after a hard moment, like seeing a photo that punches me in the chest. If you’re here too, pick yours. Then keep it.
Want help making this real? Subscribe and I’ll send you a simple weekly note with one routine you can build in 10 minutes or less.
