The Beginnings

In my younger days, my mom was always at my game and would always be the one who would take me and pick me up from practices. My dad worked the graveyard shifts at Pearl Harbor and even on his days off, he would be responsible for being the adult at my mom’s care home. I can count on one hand how many games he actually attended. This was no fault on his behalf as my mom enjoyed watching these games as much as I enjoyed playing. However, as I got older, my mom’s attendance at the games dwindled, which I put zero blame on her. I recall in 8th grade, our school was in the championship game and I hit a big shot in the final seconds to put us up for good. We won the championship and I recall when that shot went in, I looked up in the stands and saw my teammates' parents yelling and screaming. I, however, had no one in the stands that had witnessed one of my greatest moments as a young athlete.

These moments in my childhood really scarred me and I vowed to never have this happen if I ever became a father. I didn’t want my kids to have that emptiness that I felt and even if they didn’t want me at their games or recitals, I wanted to be present. Fast forward and here I am, working to provide for my family, just like my parents did and I found myself missing games and dance recitals on the weekends. I can sadly admit that I put work first over my kids and family. Then, COVID hit. That time where we were able to slow down, be at home together and just hang out was the best thing that happened. Now, I’m taking less weddings on the weekends and altering my schedule to fit their schedule so I don’t miss a practice or game. My kids may not want me there, but at least I’m present and I know they won’t have that feeling I once did.