When They Remember What You Forgot

I saw a post today that shook the shit out of me.

It was a pretty great memory my son shared – a memory of a moment between us about twenty years ago.

He remembered it like it was yesterday:
A little boy, holding his dad’s hand, crying as the credits rolled on Star Wars: Episode III, believing there would never be another Star Wars movie to see together.

It mattered to him.
It stayed with him.
And it clearly helped shape him into the fan he became. (Side note: the franchise has ultimately been a disappointment to him but I don’t think he’d change being a fan despite that because he knows it was something we shared together.)

But the truth that gutted me so bad?
I don’t remember shit about that memory. Like, at all. Wiped clean from my memory.

I know I should. And goddamn, I know I WANT to. And to be fair, there are definitely other memories I DO remember.

But like it or not, I was completely fucking lost back then. We’ve talked about it since then but yeah, it was a rough period in my life. I was caught up in my own unhappiness, my own selfishness, and my own spiraling need to escape the life and lies I had built around myself.

I was there. But I wasn’t present much in those days.
And that’s a particular kind of parenting guilt and grace that doesn’t exactly let you go very easily.

It’s the guilt of realizing that your child built a core memory holding your hand – while you were mentally somewhere else, drowning.
It’s the guilt of knowing that when they needed you to just simply be there, you were fighting ghosts inside your own head.

And it’s the kind of guilt that doesn’t come with easy answers.

Grace. That’s what people tell you to reach for when you have thoughts and feelings like that.
“Give yourself grace.”
“You did the best you could.”
“Look at who he is now – you didn’t fail.”

And of course, they’re not wrong.

Intellectually, I get it. Grace is real and grace is necessary.
Without it, guilt grows teeth and tears the shit out of you from the inside.

But from an emotional standpoint? No one tells you that guilt and grace in parenting aren’t opposites and that they can and do coexist – if you can stop and see it that way.

Guilt says: I wish so bad that I could go back and be a better father for him.
Grace says: You still can, every day you wake up.

Guilt says: I missed so many moments that I know I’ll never get back.
Grace says: I don’t know how but for some fucking reason he still remembers you as his hero.

Guilt says: I failed him.
Grace says: But he never saw you as a failure.

You really can carry both.
And maybe…maybe carrying both is what self-love really looks like when you’re being honest.

So, as happy AND sad as it was to see that memory today, I’m choosing to sit with both.
I’m choosing to let parenting guilt break my heart open – not to punish myself, but just to remind myself to stay human.
To remember that love isn’t about getting it right every single time – it’s about whether you showed up even when you were broken.

And I choose grace, too.
Because even when I didn’t feel like I was enough…somehow, to my son, I was.

And that’s definitely a memory worth holding onto.

Considering the anger and struggles I had when I was younger, these kinds of moments have happened way too much in my life. So I get it if you’re struggling to forgive yourself as a parent too.

You’re not alone.

It’s not easy for sure but if you want to feel better about these moments, this article on parenting guilt from Very Well Mind offers some simple but powerful ways to start healing 

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