If Only There Were Visitation Days in Heaven

The timelines are a bit blurry, but I think I was turning ten. My parents were divorced. My mother had full custody of my sister and me, and my dad was—how can I say this?—absent in every possible way. Like, if “ghosting” had a championship, he’d have been the reigning MVP.

Family and friends called to wish me happy birthday, but I was waiting for one call that never came. I remember crying in my room until my mother came in. When she asked what was wrong, I told her between sobs that I hadn’t gotten a call from my daddy.

A few hours later, he showed up with a present, and boy, was I happy! The real gift, though, wasn’t the toy—it was that he remembered. Funny how the mind chooses what to hold onto.

My mother did so much to make sure we were happy, but over the years—even well into adulthood—I failed to give her credit for all she sacrificed.

Being a single mom is not for the faint of heart. And no, that’s not a typo. I’m not a co-parenting mom. I’m a single mom, with all the physical, emotional, and financial responsibilities that come with it. Basically, I’m the CEO of Everything, Inc., and my employees are perpetually dissatisfied.

I give my all, day in and day out. I make peanut butter toast and get eye rolls. That again? The afternoon text message comes in: “Mom! I didn’t pass my science test.” I do some quick research between meetings and find a tutor. I worry about his state of mind all day. I leave work early to pick him up. I ask how he’s doing, and he looks at me like I’m the strangest person on earth and says, “Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

I am his saviour and the one responsible for everything wrong in his life—all before dinner.

My older one isn’t much different. Their father is mostly absent, yet somehow, he’s the hero—the one they do fun things with. He has a cool job, plays video games, takes them to the movies. He’s the privileged one who sees them on their best behaviour.

When I propose anything remotely fun, they’re suddenly unavailable. They’d rather hang out with their friends.

Psychologists believe that children often push limits and show their toughest emotions with the caregivers they trust most. This behavior stems from strong attachment — they feel safe knowing their parent’s love is steady, even when they act out. It’s a sign of security, showing the child is using that trust to explore boundaries and express their full range of feelings. Basically, if your kid treats you like their emotional punching bag, congratulations—you’re their safe space!

But damn I’m human! It hurts like hell to feel rejected by the ones you love the most.

If only there were visitation days in heaven…

I wish I could tell my mother that I get it now—that I finally understand the exhaustion behind her smiles, the invisible weight she carried while pretending it wasn’t heavy.

I wish I could tell her I see her in every packed lunch, every late-night worry, every time I hold it together when I want to crumble.

I wish I could thank her for being both the good cop and the bad cop, the breadwinner and the bedtime storyteller, the constant in a world that kept shifting.

Because now I know what it feels like to be the default parent—the one who never gets to tap out, the one who shows up even when no one notices.

I understand the quiet ache of giving everything you have to children who don’t yet know what that costs—and the grace of doing it anyway.

I see her now, in me.

And somehow, that makes me feel a little less alone.