A Father’s Rise from Ashes

There are nights I’ve sat alone in my car, gripping the steering wheel so tightly I thought my knuckles would crack. The house I used to call home felt like a memory, and the people who were supposed to remind me who I was—the people who loved me unconditionally—were gone. My mom. My brother. Both taken before I could say goodbye.

And then my relationship ended. Suddenly, the two people I had built my life around weren’t there to catch me when I fell. I was exhausted from working 12–13 hour days just to provide for Noah, Ava, and Matthew, yet I felt like I wasn’t enough. Not enough for my kids. Not enough for myself.

Some nights, I slept upright in the car because I couldn’t face the emptiness of an apartment without my family. Some nights, I didn’t sleep at all. And yet, through all the heartbreak, the panic attacks, the feeling of fading away—I kept showing up.

Because that’s what my kids needed. Not a perfect dad. Not a dad who never cried or never struggled. They needed a dad who fought. A dad who kept coming back. A dad who rose from the ashes, every single day.

This is my story. A story of loss, heartbreak, and grief—but also of resilience, love, and the fight to be the father my children deserve. And if you’re a dad going through it too… you’re not alone.