My Biggest Fear
As a dad, I feel a suffocating love and hope for my children. Every milestone they hit fills me with pride and optimism, and every laugh we share warms my heart. But beneath that warmth lies a fear so paralyzing that it sometimes overshadows the light and joy they bring into my life—the fear of losing one of them.
We bury our grandparents, then our parents, and then our children bury us. It’s the natural order of things.
–Natalie, Tall Like a Tree
This fear creeps in during quiet moments, like when they’re asleep and I’m just laying in bed or trying to unwind, whispering dark thoughts when I least expect it. I look at my daughters, each shining with their own unique spark, and I can’t help but wonder what life would be like without one of them. The thought is unbearable, a weight that feels claustrophobic in a way. I can’t imagine the void it would create in our family—a space that could never truly be filled again.
What really drives this fear home for me is the memory of my brother, who was murdered in 2005. When I became a parent for the first time in 2007 and again in 2013 and 2014, that perception and understanding of loss hit me like a freight train. It’s powerful and terrifying to know what my mother had to go through. Each day, I carry that weight as a reminder of how fragile life is.
This fear isn’t just about loss; it’s part and parcel with the reality of being a dad I believe. I feel this deep desire to protect my girls from harm, to shield them from the uncertainties of the world. As much as I want to protect them, the world is a wild and unforgiving place and I know this is what creates such a sense of strangling fear in me. I also know I can’t control everything that happens to them, and accepting that? Well, it just sucks.
Adding to this is the thought that I fear them having to say goodbye to me. The idea of them feeling sad and missing me is a whole other layer of pain and fear I grapple with. I can’t bear the thought of not being there for them when they need me the most. It’s a twisted loop of fear—I’m terrified of their pain if I go, yet I also dread the thought of them having to face the world without me.
I think back to my own childhood—those moments of innocence and happiness—and how fleeting they can be. Every time I hear about a tragedy, my heart aches, not just for those families but also as a clear reminder that life is fragile. It’s gut-wrenching to realize that every moment spent with my girls is precious and won’t last forever.
This fear shapes how I parent as a dad. Sometimes I’m overly cautious, wanting to bubble-wrap my girls to keep them safe from the world. But I know deep down that it’s not healthy to let this fear consume me and dictate how I parent. I try to find a balance between protection and giving them the freedom to explore, learn, and grow.
Confronting this fear is part of my parenting journey. While it may never fully go away, I’m learning to manage it. I remind myself that each day I spend with my girls is a gift—a chance to create memories, nurture their dreams, and build a foundation of love that will last their lifetime.
I want my daughters to know they are deeply loved by me, not just in moments of happiness and excitement, but also through the fear that comes from a place of the deepest love. So, I do my best to live and parent in the present, and each day I have with them, I’m working to develop a sense of strength within myself. Life is unpredictable, but I refuse to let it rob me of the time I have as their dad.