the reason behind my parents happiness in midst of challenges.
The state of being alive and having the quality that distinguishes living organisms from dead objects is Life. However, there is more to living than the above definition. Before becoming a father, I was fortunate to come from a large family with a strong bond; our parents were not wealthy, but they never lacked love and concern for their kids. I was extremely close to my father, to the point where I was said to be his favorite.
Every time we got together, whether it was for a meal, after a meal, farm work, or casual conversations, I could still see the joy on my parents’ faces. However, I never really understood the reason for their happiness because, at the time, the majority of my siblings and I had less of everything we needed than kidsl. However, our love was greater.
*What I’ve learned about life from my kids*
Adolescence is a time of many opportunities and challenges; family members, particularly parents and siblings, were the focus of affection before friends. And I was not an exception. Go read ( *if you people are okay; I am okay) on my official Facebook page to gain a better understanding. to the main points of this article.
I was strong , with little connection to anyone, carefree and strong-hearted; nothing get to me emotionally except my parents . But I was fine, not bad. With no serious responsibilities, I lived my life without emotions, only for my parents’ voices, which soothed me and warmed their hearts.
*What my kids have taught me about life.*
The real reason behind my happiness in …
Like others who went from zero to hero, I was fortunate and led a modest but quiet life. With the exception of being grateful to my parents and siblings, which comes without entitlement, I take adequate care of myself and made sure my wardrobe were up to date.
As I write this piece, I had a flash back of my early school years; I see my parents wearing the same clothes even when they were supposed to be thrown away, but I didn’t understand why until recently. Love is a sacrifice. As my self I couldn’t believe I have worn same clothes for the past three years . There is more to life than its mere definition. What children taught me about life?
I address my lovely daughters by their pet names.
*Booboo *Omalicha*, and I always noticed tone they answer, filled with love and affection.the type that nourishes my heart and makes me a proud father just like that of my parents’.
I’ve only known true love from my parents, siblings, and children, but since becoming a father my children rule my heart as much as we ruled our parents’ hearts.
My most memorable times in life have been spent with them and my parents.
I’ve missed them a lot, but I know the quest that took me away was necessary for their own good. My father has always said that if we are okay, he is okay. My children has taught me the reason behind my parents happiness in midst of challenges.
I couldn’t sleep, so I woke up long before my alarm.
My body was exhausted, but my mind refused to rest. The past few months have taken a toll on me, and I can feel the effect it has had on my health.
Recently, my contract with Correo Express was terminated because, after working continuously for six months as a temporary employee, I reached the period when I was required to stop working and take time away from the job.
A few days before that happened, I had gone to the hospital because I wasn’t feeling well. I was sent to the emergency room, where I received an injection, had tests done, and was prescribed medication. I was even advised to stay at home for four days.
But I went back to work despite my weakness.
Why?
Because I wanted my contract to be renewed.
Because I have a family depending on me.
Because sometimes, when you are responsible for other people, you don’t feel like you have the luxury of simply stopping.
Why am I telling you all of this?
Love ❤️ means sacrifice!
Because at that point, I had almost nothing left.
There was little food at home. There was no money in my bank account. My family in the UK was struggling, depending largely on the mercy and support of my in-laws.
The only tangible support I had been able to provide was a small monthly food allowance, and I knew it wasn’t enough.
I had made the drastic decision to leave my family behind because I believed that if I worked hard enough, I could build a better future for all of us.But sometimes, the road to that future takes you through places you never imagined.
And sometimes, you have to fight battles you never expected to fight.
I worried constantly about my wife, my children, our relationship, and everything happening back home. The distance was already putting pressure on our family, and the uncertainty surrounding our situation made everything even harder.
Yet I kept telling myself:
I have to keep going.
Through Jobandtalent, I was offered another position with CTT Express in San Fernando.
I received a one-month contract and was assigned a shift. It wasn’t going to be easy, especially after working nights at my previous job, but as a family man, I felt I had very few options.
I needed the money.I needed to work.
I needed to keep trying.So I got myself ready.
Despite the exhaustion and the uncertainty, I left home early enough to make sure I arrived at the company on time for my first shift.
I took the train, which stopped twice at Torrejón, and then I still had about a fifteen-minute walk from the station to where I lived. Since there was no public transport available to the industrial estate where the company was located that Sunday, the other employees I met at the stop and I had to take a taxi.
I arrived at the company, changed into my work clothes, and prepared myself to begin.
I thought I had finally found another opportunity.
Then everything changed.
A CTT employee arrived with a register and began calling people’s names.
One after another, people were called inside.
I waited.
After about twenty people had been called, I finally heard my name.
But instead of being told to join the others inside, I was instructed to go home along with four other people.
At first, I couldn’t understand what she meant.
I moved closer because I wanted to be certain I had heard correctly.
“Casa.”
Home.
I couldn’t believe it.I had signed a one-month contract.
I had been given a shift.I had travelled to the company.I had spent money getting there.
And now, without any prior notice or cancellation, I was being told to go home.
I asked why.The response was cold and simple: she was only doing her job and I should speak to the Jobandtalent employee who had offered me the position if I had a problem.
There was nothing she could do.
So I left.
Devastated.And I had to pay for another taxi to get home.
When I arrived, I immediately tried to contact Jobandtalent.I called their helpline repeatedly.
No answer.I sent a WhatsApp message.
No response.I sent an email.Still nothing.
And the hardest part is that this wasn’t the first time.
Last year, I experienced something similar when I started working at CTT in Coslada through Jobandtalent. I was also told to go home after arriving for work, and I had to pursue the matter until it was eventually resolved.
How many people are going through situations like this and simply have no voice?
How many workers travel long distances, spend money on transportation, rearrange their lives and make plans around a job, only to be sent home without warning?
Workers are human beings.
They have rent to pay.
They have children to feed.
They have families depending on them.
They have responsibilities.
They have fears.
And behind every temporary worker is a real person trying to build a life.
We often talk about economic growth, companies, productivity and employment figures.
But we shouldn’t forget the people who make those things possible.
Workers deserve dignity.They deserve communication.They deserve to know when a job has been cancelled before they spend their money travelling to work.
They deserve to be treated like human beings.
That morning, my headache became worse.
I was already carrying the weight of my family’s situation, the financial pressure, the uncertainty surrounding my work and the strain that the distance had placed on my relationship.
Now I had another problem.
How would I explain this to my family?
How would I provide even the small amount I normally send home this month?
How could I convince them that leaving them behind was part of a plan to build something better when I couldn’t even secure the work I needed to make that plan possible?
Sometimes I feel that nobody really understands what a man carries inside when he is trying to provide for his family.
People see you going to work.
They see you getting paid.
They assume you are fine.
They don’t see the sleepless nights.
They don’t see the fear.
They don’t see the calculations you make in your head every day.
They don’t see the phone calls you don’t know how to answer.
They don’t see the pressure of knowing that people you love are depending on you.
And perhaps that’s why society often tells men to simply “be strong.”
So you keep going.
You swallow the disappointment.You wipe your tears.You get up the next morning.And you try again.Today didn’t go according to plan.
The job didn’t go according to plan.
My finances aren’t where I want them to be.
My family is still far away.
And there are battles I never expected to fight.
But I have learned something through all of this:
Failure is not the same thing as the end.
Tomorrow, I will get up again.I will look for another opportunity.I will keep writing.I will keep working.
I will keep fighting for my family.
Because sometimes providing for your family means missing them.
Sometimes it means fighting battles nobody else knows about.
And sometimes it means falling down today and finding the strength to stand up again tomorrow.
I hardly ever look at the photo albums on my phone anymore because they make me cry. Yet sometimes, they appear unexpectedly, bringing back memories of my wonderful partner and our children.
Today, I finished making my jollof rice. I know how much they would have enjoyed it if we were together. But once again, I ate alone—not because I wanted to, but because I was hungry, while my heart was somewhere else, with them.
Nothing compares to the pain of being close to the people you love and yet being so far away from them—unable to reach them because of circumstances beyond your control.
I have always loved children, and I grew up in a family where love, togetherness, and parental presence mattered deeply, even when discipline was part of that love. So, when I made the decision to leave my family in the hope of giving them a better future, I knew I would miss them. What I didn’t fully understand was the cost of that distance.
I never really thought about what the separation would mean for my family—not just for me—until I found myself living it.
Sometimes the sacrifices isn’t just financial
The first few months were difficult for me. But sometimes I wonder if they were even harder for my family.
If I could have changed my mind, perhaps I would have. But at the time, circumstances didn’t give me much of a choice.
For nine months, no one has jumped onto my bed to wake me up or disturb my sleep.
For someone without children, that might sound like a blessing.
For a father, it can be heartbreaking.
I haven’t been taking the children to the park. I haven’t been sitting with them during our little learning sessions. I haven’t been there for the ordinary moments that once seemed so insignificant—moments I now realise were actually some of the most valuable parts of fatherhood.
This isn’t my first experience of being a distant father. But this time, something feels different.
After spending so much time together and building a bond stronger than I ever imagined, I have come to realise that the consequences of being a distant father can sometimes outweigh the purpose behind it.
Yes, I want to provide a better future for my family.
But what happens when, in trying to give your children a better future, you lose the present?
The years they are young cannot be repeated.
The birthdays cannot be replayed.
The spontaneous hugs cannot be stored for later.
The little questions, the laughter, the games, the bedtime conversations—all of those moments disappear into the past, whether we are there to witness them or not.
And that is the part nobody talks about when they say, “I’m doing it for my family.”
Sometimes the sacrifice isn’t just financial.
Sometimes, you are the sacrifice.
Still, the circumstances that pushed us into this decision should motivate us to keep fighting for a better future for our children. Providing for them matters. Giving them opportunities matters.
But I have learned that fatherhood is not only about the success our children eventually achieve.
It is also about having the privilege of witnessing them become who they are.
If I could go back in time, I would still want a better future for my family. But I would think much more carefully about the price I was willing to pay for it.
I would treasure our time together more deliberately. I would look for every possible way to improve our circumstances without sacrificing more of the moments that can never be recovered.
Because one day, the money may be earned.
The house may be bought.
The career may succeed.
But the childhood you missed will remain in the past.
So, whatever your circumstances are, before you choose a path that takes you away from your family, think about it—not once, not twice, but a thousand times.
Because sometimes, the greatest cost of providing a better future is missing the present.
