I'm 66 and I worked six days a week for thirty-four years, missed recitals, missed dinners, missed the kind of ordinary weekday mornings I can never get back. My son works remotely, logs off at five, and coaches his daughter's soccer team. I'm not angry at him. I'm grieving for myself. - Silicon Canals

"Most people assume that watching your children surpass you is the whole point of parenthood, and that when it happens you feel pride. Clean, uncomplicated pride. I assumed that too, right up until I watched my son Danny close his laptop at five o'clock on a Wednesday, walk out to the backyard where his eight-year-old was waiting with a soccer ball, and felt something crack open in my chest that had nothing to do with pride and everything to do with loss."

"The conventional wisdom among men my age goes something like this: we sacrificed so our kids wouldn't have to. We worked the hours we worked because that was the deal. You put in the time, you provide, and the providing IS the love."

"I ran my own electrical contracting business for twenty-two years. Before that, I worked for other people's companies. The math across thirty-four years of six-day weeks comes out to roughly 1,700 Saturdays. That's 1,700 mornings I wasn't making pancakes."

Watching children surpass parents often brings pride, but it can also evoke feelings of loss. A father reflects on his son's active involvement in parenting, contrasting it with his own sacrifices. He worked long hours to provide for his family, believing that providing was synonymous with love. However, he grapples with the realization that his dedication resulted in missed moments, leading to a sense of grief over the time lost with his children. The father's reflections reveal the emotional complexities of parenthood and the sacrifices made for future generations.

Read at Silicon Canals