Ryder’s 18th birthday should have been a milestone celebration, but the absence of his father left him feeling deeply disappointed. Learning that his dad chose a fishing trip with friends over spending time with him only added to his heartbreak. However, what happened next led Ryder to see things in a new light. Let me introduce myself—I’m Ryder, and I recently turned 18. Before I dive into the story of my birthday, let me share a bit about my life. Things were pretty normal until I turned seven. That’s when the arguments between my mom and dad began. I didn’t fully understand what was happening at the time, but I could sense the tension. By the time I was eight, my dad was gone. I remember clearly the day my mom sat me down and explained, “Ryder, sweetie, your father won’t be living with us anymore. But you can still see him whenever you want, okay?”My heart skipped a beat.
“But why, Mom? Did I do something wrong?” Mom’s eyes welled up with tears, but she smiled gently. “Oh, no, honey. You didn’t do anything wrong. This isn’t your fault at all.” “Then why is Dad leaving?” I asked, desperate for answers. She took a deep breath. “Well, sometimes grown-ups just can’t live together anymore. Your dad and I tried really hard to make things work, but sometimes things just don’t turn out the way we hope.” “Can’t you try harder?” I pleaded, not ready to accept the reality. She pulled me into a hug. “We did try, Ryder. For a long time. But sometimes, the kindest thing we can do is to live apart. Your dad and I will both always love you, and that won’t ever change. We just won’t be living in the same house anymore.” And just like that, my parents were divorced. After the divorce, Mom took a job as an elementary school teacher, working tirelessly to give me a good life. I’ll always be grateful for that. But my dad? He became like a ghost in my life—always busy with work, friends, and his hobbies, especially fishing. Every weekend, he’d vanish with his buddies to go fishing, even when Mom reminded him that I’d be visiting. Despite everything, a part of me still longed for his attention. I wanted him to notice me, to be proud of me. So, I spent years trying to win his approval, hoping that one day he’d realize how much I needed him. But I was wrong. As my 18th birthday approached, I thought maybe, just maybe, he’d show up this time. Turning 18 is a big deal, after all. I planned a small party with Mom and a few close friends. I even texted Dad about it, and his reply gave me hope: “Sounds great! I’ll try to be there.” The day arrived, and Mom went all out—decorating the house, baking my favorite cake, and even surprising me with a new guitar I’d been eyeing for months. Friends started arriving, and the house was soon filled with laughter and excitement. But as the hours passed, there was still no sign of Dad. I kept checking my phone, hoping for a message, but there was nothing. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and decided to call him. When he finally picked up, I could hear the sound of waves and chatter in the background. “Dad, it’s my birthday,” I reminded him, trying to hide the desperation in my voice. “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 tears blur my vision. I rushed to my room and hid there until Mom found me. She sat beside me, putting her arm around my shoulders. “I’m sorry, honey. You know how he is.” “I know,” I whispered, trying to stay strong, but inside, I was shattered. The days after my birthday were a blur. I pretended everything was fine, but inside, I felt invisible. Dad’s absence reminded me that I wasn’t important enough for him. Then, a week later, Dad called. He acted as if nothing had happened. “Hey, I got you a gift,” he said. “Want to come over and get it?” Part of me wanted to tell him to forget it, but another part still held onto that sliver of hope. So, I agreed. When I arrived at his house, he greeted me with a smile and handed me a long, mysterious 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 poorly chosen gift; it was a symbol of his absence, a reminder of the very activity that had taken him away from me. “Thanks, Dad,” I forced a smile. “It’s… great.” He didn’t seem to notice my lack of enthusiasm. “I figured it was time you learned the ropes. You’ll have fun!” He then suggested we go fishing the next weekend, but I knew I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine. “I… I can’t come next weekend, Dad,” I said. “I’ve got plans with Mom.” He frowned for a moment, but then his smile returned. “No worries, we’ll find another time.” But I knew we wouldn’t, and for the first time, I was okay with that. As I left his house holding the rod, I realized it was time to let go of the fantasy and accept the reality. I couldn’t keep chasing after someone who couldn’t be there for me. Over the next few months, I focused on the people who genuinely cared about me—my mom, my friends, and most importantly, myself. I threw myself into my music, practicing guitar for hours, and began helping Mom more around the house, grateful for everything she had done for me. One evening, as we were doing dishes together, Mom asked, “Have you heard from your father lately?” “Nah, 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 hugged her. “But I’ve got you, and that’s more than enough.” As time passed, I learned that my worth wasn’t tied to Dad’s attention. I found strength in the love and support around me and realized that sometimes people won’t be what you need them to be—and that’s okay. The fishing rod still sits in my closet, untouched. It serves as a reminder, not of what I lost, but of what I gained—self-respect, resilience, and the ability to let go of what I can’t change. What would you have done if you were in my place?
A teenager coughs and requests her father to bring her to the hospital. Within hours, the heartbreaking reality unfolds… Explore the comments for more details.
What does bravery really mean? Is it the bravery to hold on when you know the end is close and the battle you fought so hard is lost, or is it the capacity to face terrifying things?
For a sixteen-year-old girl, bravery meant standing by her father, who never wavered even under the most trying circumstances.
A man by the name of Tom Mitchell told the following tale.
This loving father remembered his daughter complaining that she didn’t feel well and requesting to be taken to the doctor because she thought she had a sinus infection.
Yes, sweetie, I’ll come get you tomorrow after school. If you’d like, we can have supper together afterward,” he replied.
The next day, the two did enjoy dinner together, but it was not at their preferred eatery. Rather, kids were having difficulty swallowing the food at Fairfax Hospital’s pediatric oncology unit. These father and daughter would have more than 450 meals there together, not to mention the hundreds more in the years that followed.
Instead of a sinus infection, his daughter had a massive tumor that had gone to her lungs and collapsed one.
It was a genuine struggle. Even though they knew it wouldn’t be simple, they were committed to fighting as a team.
Hodgkin’s illness, stage four, was Shayla’s diagnosis.
Tom tried to convey to them what it meant to be brave and withstand the trials and problems life placed in front of them by purchasing two sterling silver “feather” bracelets and placing one on each of their wrists.
Then he made three promises: he would stay at the hospital every night until Shayla was cancer-free; he would wear the bracelet until then; and he would persevere as long as she did.
Shayla’s cancer struggle dragged on for years, during which she had blood transfusions, chemotherapy, radiation, painkillers, and more medication. Her body could not take all of this, and as a result, her heart grew weak and a defibrillator had to be quickly implanted within her chest.
Shayla was getting ready for chemotherapy one day when she started screaming, “Help me, Dad! I’m shocked by it! ..I’m shocked by it.
Tom continued his explanation of what had occurred. I drew her in and gave her my strongest embrace. It almost blew her out of my arms and stunned her once more. But I resisted letting go. That’s exactly how I hugged her, fiercely as I could. As swiftly as it had begun, it stopped startling her, and we hurried to the hospital.
As it turned out, the device’s maker had to recall thousands of them because they were malfunctioning, and Shayla’s chest contained one of them.
More chemotherapy sessions, blood transfusions, a botched bone marrow transplant, and more uncomfortable sleepless nights ensued. But until the very last, Shayla never once considered giving up.
“How in the world was I meant to talk to my sweet kid about this? How would I ever have the courage to tell my daughter that she was going to die? There’s a quote I once heard that kind of captures my thoughts. “Can a guy who is terrified still be brave? He can only be bold at that moment. I had to have courage for HER! Of course, I did have that talk with her, and despite how unbelievable it may sound, it ended up being the most incredible, lovely, magical, and fantastic conversation I have ever had in my life. I sincerely pray you never, ever have to have it. Tom gave a portion.
“Dad, am I still brave?,” she murmured in his ear.
Then he met her gaze directly and saw into her soul. He was aware that she was beyond tired of battling and that it was becoming impossible for her, but he suddenly came to a chilling realization. She exhibited bravery for him rather than for herself.
Shayla tragically passed away a few days later, but her father will always remember her bravery and strength.
Shayla, rest in peace.
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