I never thought Id feel jealous of my own child.
It sounds awful, even just thinking it. But thats the truth.
When my daughter was born, I was twenty-six. Young, scared, yet happy. My whole world started to revolve around her. I left my job to look after her. My wife worked long hours as a builder, often away from home. I was everything mum, dad, companion.
The years slipped by before I knew it. She was growing up, and I felt proud of every step she took. I bought her dresses for special occasions, stayed up late to help her with homework, baked her favourite apple pie every Sunday. I lived through her. I didnt realise it at the time.
When she became a teenager, she started pulling away. Its normal, I told myself. Thats how children grow up. But inside, something felt hollow. She didnt tell me everything anymore. She had secrets, friends, a life where I no longer took centre stage.
Then came her leavers prom. I watched her come down the stairs in her dress and was speechless. She was so beautiful, full of confidence, radiant. Next to her stood a boy gazing at her in awe. And right then, pride was mixed with something else fear that I was losing her.
After she left for university in another city, the house went quiet. Id wake up and there was no one rushing around for school. No scattered books, no laughter. My wife had got used to the silence, but for me it felt like punishment.
I started ringing her every day. Asking what shed eaten, where shed been, who she was with. I could hear her holding back. Sometimes she wouldnt answer. Id feel hurt. I thought, Ive given my whole life to her, and now she cant find time for me.
One weekend she came home. She was different more independent, more certain of herself. She told me about her new plans, about her internship, her dreams. Instead of being glad, I started reminding her how tough things are, how dangerous, how careful she must be. I saw her eyes darken. That was the first time I realised my behaviour was stifling her.
That evening, I sat alone in the kitchen and asked myself who I was, besides being a father. For ages I couldnt answer. I was so used to living through her achievements and troubles, Id forgotten myself.
I signed up to an evening accountancy class. Id always been good with numbers, but never had the courage to start over. I found a part-time job. I started meeting up with old mates Id barely seen in years. The early days were hard, but slowly I felt I could breathe easier.
Things between my daughter and me began to change. I stopped quizzing her like a child. I started listening to her as an adult. She began to share more with me, without prompting. I learned love isnt about holding someone close at any cost, but giving them wings.
I still miss her. I miss her voice in the next room, the noise, her presence. But Im no longer jealous of her life. I look at her moving forward and Im proud to be a part of her foundation, not a stumbling block.
Ive learned children arent our possessions. Theyre guests in our homes for a while. Our job isnt to keep them, but to prepare them to walk out strong.
And I realised one more thing a man mustnt lose himself completely in being a father. Because when the children grow up, he still needs to feel whole.
