I swallowed my tears: How I changed from a father-king to an old, unwanted man
I’ve been alone my whole life. I grew up an orphan.
I don’t remember my parents—they left when I was just a few years old.
My grandmother raised me. She was strict but fair, teaching me to work hard, not complain, and never to expect help from others.
I had to grow up quickly.
I didn’t finish school properly—left after my GCSEs to work.
Then I got married.
I was only 18, but I felt like an adult, believing I understood the world and could make my family happy.
A year later, my daughter was born.
I didn’t realize how much that small bundle would change my life.
I looked at her and promised myself, “You won’t grow up like I did. You’ll have everything.”
From then on, my path was clear—work hard.
My wife left, and I was left alone with our child. Our family happiness was short-lived.
She couldn’t handle it.
She wanted to go out and enjoy herself, while I worked day and night so our daughter wouldn’t lack anything.
She started staying out late.
Then I found out she had someone else.
And one day, she was just gone from our lives.
She left without even saying goodbye to her daughter.
I didn’t cry.
I couldn’t afford to show weakness.
I just kept working.
I rushed from one job to another, didn’t know what a weekend was, and couldn’t remember the last time I slept more than four hours straight.
But I didn’t care.
Because I had her—my girl, my princess.
I promised myself she would be happy.
And I kept that promise.
I bought her everything she dreamed of.
Toys. Dolls. A bicycle.
Even when money was tight—I found a way.
I worked, worked, and worked…
And she would hug me around my neck and say:
“Dad, you’re the best! You’re my king!”
And for those words, I would do anything.
I went away to earn money for her. As my daughter grew, the expenses increased.
A computer, phone, trendy clothes, trips…
And then—the prom.
“Dad, I found the perfect dress! It’s only £800!”
I didn’t let it show how hard that figure hit me.
I smiled and said:
“Of course, princess. We’ll get it.”
But that very night, I packed my bags and left to work.
I went where the pay was better, where I could earn in a month what would take a year back home.
I worked as a porter, a builder, a security guard—anything to send money to her.
I ate bread and water, slept in a cramped room with ten others like me.
But none of that mattered.
Because I was doing it for her.
Because she was my princess.
And for her, I was ready to work myself to exhaustion.
I paid for everything—for her education, wedding, child…
She got into university.
“Dad, I need to pay for the semester…”
“Of course, darling.”
“Dad, I need money for rent, food, studying…”
“Of course, darling.”
I never complained.
I never told her how hard it was for me.
I just kept working.
And then she fell in love.
“Dad, I’m getting married!”
I felt my heart tighten.
She was still so young…
“Are you sure, darling?”
“Yes, dad. I love him.”
I didn’t say anything else.
Just reached into my pocket for the last of my earnings.
The wedding.
Then the birth of a child.
More expenses again.
I didn’t regret it.
I was happy.
And then I became unnecessary…
Years passed.
I got older.
Working became harder.
I couldn’t run around construction sites, carry heavy loads, or stand on my feet for 14 hours anymore.
One day I thought:
“Why not buy a car? Make life a bit easier…”
So I called my daughter.
“Darling, I’ve decided to buy a car. It’s getting hard to walk everywhere…”
I expected her to say:
“That’s right, dad! You’ve done so much for us, you deserve it!”
But instead, I heard laughter.
“Dad, a car for you?! Have you lost your mind? Where would you drive it? You’re old now!”
Then she added:
“Just give us the money. We want to make a nursery for your grandson.”
I fell silent.
Then simply said:
“Of course, darling.”
And gave the money away.
I’m no longer a king. I’m just an old man…
I realized it that day.
I’m not important anymore.
I’m not needed.
I was needed as long as I could provide.
But when it was my turn to think of myself—I was just in the way.
I swallowed my tears.
I didn’t argue.
I just understood.
Now I’m just an old man who gets in the way.
And you know what I think now?
She’ll become a mother too.
She’ll see her children grow up.
And someday, on a rainy day, she’ll suddenly remember me.
Remember how I worked for her, didn’t sleep, didn’t eat, didn’t live for myself.
And then she’ll understand.
And she’ll realize the mistake she made.
I’m not angry.
I’m just waiting for that day…
