You Are Still the Parent
Here’s what I believe: A child should be the beneficiary of a parent’s action.
Not the other way around. The love, validation, and pursuit should trickle down. When a child is the one constantly working to pull love upward, something’s broken. That’s a reversed current. And that’s not love—it’s a deficit disguised as duty. Yes, life is complicated. Yes, families are messy. But when we strip it down to the rawest truth, the foundation of a thriving parent-child relationship is this: the parent should be the instigator of love. The consistent one. The proactive one. The unconditional one.
And as parents age, their lives often slow down. Friends fade away, work becomes less demanding, and there’s time—precious time—to reflect. Meanwhile, adult children are in the trenches: careers, marriages, raising kids, building homes, battling anxiety, managing expectations. And this is often the stage where parents begin waiting—waiting to be called, to be invited, to be acknowledged. But the reality is, that’s the very moment when your child needs your pursuit the most.
Too many parents slip into a friendship-style relationship with their adult children, expecting equal effort in return—equal attention, equal affection, equal initiation.
But that’s not the agreement. That was never the agreement. You’re not their friend. You’re their parent. And the weight of that role doesn’t lighten with time. It deepens.
Even in the hardest situations—maybe especially in the hardest situations—this matters more than ever. Maybe you’re an older parent with an adult child who’s completely cut ties. Maybe they’ve disavowed you, blocked you, or moved to the ends of the earth. You might feel like it’s over. But it’s not.
Your role isn’t to win. Your role is to stay. Stay reaching. Stay present. Stay consistent.
That might mean a simple voicemail once a month that says, “I know you’re probably still hurting, and maybe you still hate me, but I just want to say I love you. That’s all.” Or a yearly email. A birthday card with no strings. A message with no pressure. No guilt. No expectations. Just love. Because when that moment comes—when your child finally lifts their head and looks for a sign—you want them to find you still standing there. Still loving them.
That’s what unconditional looks like.
As a father of four daughters, I’ve made a vow: They will never have to earn my love or my presence. Not when they’re little. Not when they’re teenagers. Not when they’re adults. I will not make them work for my affection or effort. I will not let them feel the weight of performance. I’ll meet them where they are. And I’ll love them in the way that makes sense to them. That’s what being a parent is.
And yes, right now, my parenting includes discipline, structure, protection, and teaching. But I already know the day is coming when my role shifts. When I become a support beam, not a roof. When my job will simply be to show up, listen, love, and be available. And when that day comes, I will not require their effort to earn my presence.
Because I know what it feels like to be an adult child always reaching, always trying, always wondering why the people who should have loved me first don’t act like it. I won’t continue that pattern. I’ll break it.
So if you’re a parent—of any age, at any stage—this is your reminder: You are still the parent. You still set the tone. You still carry the responsibility. And it is not too late to lead with love.
Unconditional means no condition.
No reciprocation required. No expectations. No scoreboard. Just you, showing up—over and over and over again.
Be the one who initiates.
Be the one who reaches out.
Be the one who loves unconditionally.
That’s your job. And it’s the most important one you’ll ever have.
0 Comments