Father's Day always felt so far away. But now, there are things I can write.

Foreword

April 27, 2025. The day my X post first took off in a big way.

And then in May, ever since the day I wrote that "Mother's Day was always difficult for me," I feel like the distance between me and my family has been changing little by little.

Emotions that couldn't be put into words are gradually taking shape by writing on note.

Just like that day when I delivered my "thank you" to my mother, I thought I wanted to face my father, whom I could never put into words, this time.

Honestly, I don't know much about my father. He doesn't talk, and he doesn't get angry. I have always watched that back that shows no emotion from far away.

But now, I feel like I can write a little bit. I feel like I can put my past struggles into words entirely.

This is the continuation of my story, where two notes, "Mother's Day" and "Father's Day," intersect.

Chapter 1 | The silent father and the son who couldn't speak

Things I realized later about the time we didn't share

My father is a man who has been doing the same job for 40 years.

He wakes up early in the morning, eats in silence, and goes to work without a word. At night, he drinks quietly while watching TV, and goes to sleep without talking to anyone.

There were extremely few moments where he exchanged conversation with the family. His emotions were hard to read, and I didn't know when to talk to him.

When I was little, I wondered, "Why does Dad talk so little?" But I think it's surely because my young self couldn't touch the "something wordless" inside my father.

Even though we are family, the distance between our hearts wouldn't close. Even though he was right in front of me, he was always far away. I lived my life swallowing that sense of discomfort.

As I grew up, I started to justify my "inability to speak." By blaming my father for not trying to communicate, I was hiding my own cowardice.

"It's his fault for staying silent."

That's how I judged him on my own.

But now, I feel like I can understand, just a little, how much emotion was packed into that silence.

Chapter 2 | Even so, he was watching all along

There were no words, but there was certainly love

Honestly, I have almost no memories of him ever saying anything to me.
I don't really remember him praising me or denying me anything.

But there are scenes I remember suddenly.

For example, on a day with a typhoon.
When I arrived at the nearest station, soaked from coming home from club activities.
My father was standing outside the ticket gate.
He handed me an umbrella without saying a word, and started walking in silence.

Another day, when I had a fever and stayed home from school.
He came home quietly during his lunch break, left a single bottle of Pocari Sweat, and left again.

Back then, I didn't even think those things were special.

But thinking about it now, I believe that was probably my father's own way of expressing love.

In truth, he had been watching me all along.
But I wanted the feeling of being 'watched,' I wanted to be loved in a more obvious way, and I was sulking in my heart.

It was me who was pretending not to notice that kind of kindness—the kind that offers a hand in silence, without saying anything or asking for anything.

Rather than being 'watched,' I was being 'looked after.'
I have started to be able to recall memories that feel like that, little by little.

Chapter 3 | After facing my mother, I began to see my father's back

Getting closer, little by little, to someone I thought I could never understand

The day I wrote that 'I wasn't good with Mother's Day.'
That was the day I let out, just a little, the wounds from the past that were inside me.

Thankfully, it became the note that received the most 'likes' I've ever had.

I believe that is because the feeling of being 'understood' by someone overlapped with the feeling that 'the past and the present have connected' within myself.

I realized it only after I wrote it.

By facing my mother, I came to understand myself a little better. And once I understood my mother, strangely enough, I began to see my father's back.

My mother was someone who wore her emotions on her sleeve.
Sometimes we clashed, sometimes she cried, sometimes she got angry.
Because of that, there were misunderstandings, but since we exchanged words, there was room for us to collide.

My father was different.
He wouldn't clash with me. He wouldn't talk about things.
I could never quite read his joy, anger, sorrow, or pleasure, and there was always a distance between us.

But now, I think.

Perhaps the truly difficult thing is facing someone who says nothing at all.

My father was silent for a long time.
But in that silence, perhaps,
clumsy kindness, shyness, or
the deepest feelings he had, without knowing how to express them, were lying dormant.

When I was a child, I thought that was 'indifference'.

But now, my perspective has changed just a little.
That was probably a 'clumsy gaze'.

It is precisely because I wrote a note about my mother that I reached these feelings. Now, I feel like I can face my father's silence just a little bit.

Chapter 4 | The first time my father spoke of 'disappointment'

There are only two times in my life that such a father directed clear emotions toward me.

Both of them were 'disappointment'.

1 | One day when I was a college student working a part-time job in the city at night

At the time, I didn't have enough money for club activities or for hanging out.
My job as a cram school tutor wasn't enough, and when I looked at job sites, the phrase 'a fun workplace centered on college students' caught my eye. The hourly wage was 1,450 yen. For me at the time, it was an attractive offer.

Before I knew it, I was working at that shop on the 5th floor of a multi-tenant building. A 'black suit' at a cabaret club, as they say. At first, I had my hesitations, but I told myself, 'This might be a form of social education'.

One day, after working for about a year and a half. Perhaps I was exhausted, or perhaps I let my guard down, but I left the attendance sheet with the hostesses' stage names in my shirt pocket and put it in the laundry basket.

My father found it and said to me:

That was all.
But those words rang out like thunder.

*Ashamed. I knew it myself. But it was for a student-like life. Even if I made that excuse logically, I still cannot forget the sadness that was deep in my father's eyes.

That day, for the first time, I was disappointed by my father.

But this was still just a prologue.

2 | The day my quiet father got angry because he was genuinely worried about me

25 years old. At the time, I was in a position that felt like the "brains" of the company, working in management planning for a beauty salon chain. I was in charge of planning, recruitment, store launches, and social media management. As an area manager, I was also responsible for human resource development.

So, to be honest, I had become arrogant. I was convinced that with my own abilities, I could drive even bigger projects.

Around that time, the company decided to expand into the medical field, and through a platform called Wantedly, we signed a contract with a freelance consultant who claimed to be "strong in the medical sector." I became the point of contact and was tasked with acting as a bridge between the company and the consultant.

But that person was a terrible choice. If things didn't go his way, he would yell. He held the company's confidential information and even made threatening remarks.

He was exactly the kind of dangerous adult that fits perfectly into this article by Mr. Yamada.

He was this kind of person ↑

From here on, I will refer to him as "the consultant jerk."

Before I knew it, I had become a people-pleaser to everyone. I kept trying to look good to both the company and the consultant jerk.

Before I realized it, I was being brainwashed by that consultant jerk.

In the midst of all this, a careless remark of mine definitively broke the relationship between the two parties. The company and the consultant jerk were at total odds. The spark was my own words.

Feeling responsible, I left the company to distance myself.

By that time, the consultant jerk had been egging me on to go independent. "You can definitely do it," he said. Swayed by his sweet talk, I decided to start a business in the D2C sector.

Before I knew it, I had signed a service agreement with the consultant jerk for a shocking 500,000 yen per month plus a percentage of the profits. At that time, I lacked composure, lost my judgment, and was not in my right mind.

Entertaining at night, alcohol, arranging women... what was supposed to be business networking eventually turned into me getting hooked myself. Clubs and high-end lounges in Shibuya, Roppongi, and Nishi-Azabu. Payments fell behind, and my credibility plummeted. I tried to move to raise business capital, but my loan applications were rejected by both the Japan Finance Corporation and the local credit union.

It even escalated to the point of discussing "using my parents' real estate as collateral." I had gone crazy. My mind was going blank.

Ah, it's over. Everything.

I shaved my head. I wanted to reset everything. It was proof that my heart had broken.

Noticing something was wrong, my father used the threatening audio of the consultant jerk that I happened to have recorded as evidence and consulted the police for me.

He stopped everything.

And then, he said this to me.

It was my second deep disappointment.

However, in my father's words at that time,
I felt that for the first time, "anger," "sadness,"
and just a little bit of "love"
were seeping through.

Chapter 5 | It's embarrassing, but now I can write "thank you"

Delivering the "thank you" I couldn't say, now in writing

Maybe I can't say it in person.
I've never formally said "thank you," and if I tried, I'd probably just laugh it off.

But on note,
writing is something I can do.

Dad.

I always thought of you as a "distant presence."

But after growing up, starting to work,
becoming unemployed, and starting to write on note.

And facing my mother,
and being able to write about myself little by little.

Finally, the meaning of your back,
I've come to understand just a little.

I think that for people who don't put things into words,
their life seeps through
in "what they chose not to do."

Never changing jobs, never complaining,
always leaving for work at the same time,
and supporting the family.

I think that was probably love.
A love that isn't put into words, but is certainly there.

It's embarrassing, but now I can write it.

Thank you.
I'm glad I'm your son.

Afterword

The inspiration for this note came from Ponta Papa's

While writing this note, I realized something anew.

I think what I was facing wasn't just my father himself, but also
the process of rediscovering my own weaknesses and immaturity by rediscovering my father.

Being able to write "thank you" for Mother's Day.
Being able to write about "the version of myself who was disappointed but kept living anyway" for Father's Day.

Both of these were important fresh starts for me now.

Only by putting them into words do the emotions of that day, which I thought were "the end," transform into "something I can continue with."

To be honest, I'm still scared.

Every time I share something, somewhere,
I feel like someone will laugh at me.

Deep in my heart, there's a part of me that expects to be told, "That's just an excuse."

But even so, I wanted to write this.
Because I wanted it to properly reach my father's back, my mother's tears, and the version of myself from back then.

This note is my own "Father's Day."
Thank you so much for reading this far.

And if you, who are reading this right now,
are also living while "bottling up your emotions,"
I would be happy if this note could

knock on the door of your heart, even just a little.

This year's Father's Day is June 15th.

I, who have missed the timing to say "thank you" to my father
for so many years,
have finally been able to leave those words behind here.

If you also have
feelings you've never been able to express,
I hope you'll use this note as a starting point.

It's never too late to express your gratitude on Father's Day.

Profile

Verification Bro | Raising a cat on note

My usual persona is
super logical, where did my emotions go?
basically an inorganic AI human.

Whether it's because of past experiences,
it seems to have become that way unconsciously.
I'm currently in the middle of rehabilitation.

But today, just as
a human being, I wrote down the words that came from deep within my heart exactly as they are.

☑︎ I have shaved my head before
☑︎ I have deeply disappointed my father twice
☑︎ After falling apart, I am trying to stand up once again

What I am currently searching for is
a way of life where I live solely through writing.

I will quietly, yet surely, share words that allow us to live without losing sight of what is important.