“A father’s presence is not loud like thunder; it is quiet like roots. Unseen by many, yet holding the whole house steady in storms the world never sees. For too long, fathers have been pushed to the margins of the home, dismissed, diminished, or forgotten. Nevertheless, their value is immeasurable, their love foundational. It is time we remember: when a father stands present, generations stand taller. “– Dr Steve Hudgins, LPCS, NCC.
Fatherhood is not a title; it is a calling. A sacred responsibility. A quiet strength that often goes unnoticed until it is no longer there. Too many homes have forgotten the value of a father’s presence. Too many courts have dismissed it. Too many hearts have been wounded by its absence.
As a father, I know this pain intimately. I was alienated from my children by an unhealthy marriage. Not because I did not love them but because I refused to become what I was accused of being. I stood firm. I fought not just for access but for connection, truth, and healing. I stood for a purpose far greater than myself. I stood for every healthy father who has been silenced, misjudged, and forced to fight to be present in their children’s lives.
Moreover, I fought in courtrooms and through legal battles. I gave evidence, met with leaders, and even advised the Governor of Oklahoma. In 2001, the Equal Access Law was signed, an initiative for which I had the honor of contributing. It was a policy shift born out of pain, advocacy, and an unwavering belief that children deserve both parents when both are willing and able to love them well.
I did not walk away. But I understand why some fathers do.
Sometimes, the fight to stay becomes so riddled with false accusations, manipulation, and emotional warfare that a father chooses silence, not out of abandonment, but to protect what little peace remains. Sometimes, a man walks away not because he is weak but because the battlefield is too dangerous for the very children he is trying to protect. It is not cowardice. It is restraint. It is anguish dressed in dignity.
But for those of us who stayed, who kept fighting with integrity and faith, know that our presence matters.
It matters when we show up at the game after being told we are not wanted there.
It matters when we write letters our children never answer.
It matters when we choose to speak kindly about the other parent, even when they do not reciprocate in the same manner.
It matters when we resist the temptation to make our wounds their burden.
It matters when we stay emotionally available, spiritually grounded, and mentally strong.
I am proud to say that today my daughter thrives. My son owns his own business. Both are married and raising their own families, and my daughter now carries another generation within her. The pain was not in vain. The years of sacrifice and suffering, although invisible to many, were never in vain. Because fatherhood is not about being seen; it is about being steady.
I left the engineering field in 2012 to inspire healthy changes from my battles. Now, as a doctor of mental health, I have the honor of counseling men through the very battles I once fought. Furthermore, I hear the voices of their children, the young adults who reunite with their fathers after years of distance. They tell stories of healing, of forgiveness, of rediscovered love. They speak of the men their fathers became while they were apart and the courage it took to return.
There is hope.
There is hope for the father who has not seen his child in years.
There is hope for the man who made mistakes and longs for redemption.
There is hope for the child who one day realizes their father never stopped loving them.
There is hope for the family that dares to rebuild.
To every man who is in the life of his child, whether daily, through shared custody, long-distance calls, or prayers whispered in solitude, you are doing holy work. You are not forgotten. Your impact may not always be acknowledged, but it is imprinted on your child’s heart in ways words cannot capture.
Our presence is quiet, like roots, hidden but holding everything steady.
And our legacy?
Unshakable.
Let this be a call to honor fathers. To support them. To hear their stories. To challenge the systems and stigmas that make fatherhood more complicated than it should be. Let us build a culture where men are not only expected to be present but are empowered to be whole, healthy, and heroic in the lives of their children.
Because when fathers thrive, families heal.
“Our presence is quiet like roots—unseen, but holding everything steady.”
– A tribute to fathers who endure, protect, and love without applause.