This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Rodney Rikai. It’s been edited for length and clarity.
I’m 40 years old, and for my entire adult life, I’ve been a father.
My youngest son is graduating from high school and heading to Morehouse College in Atlanta this fall. He’s interested in psychology and hopes to become a clinical therapist one day. I’m incredibly proud of him.
Before that, my oldest son, technically my nephew (but I’ve raised him as my own), graduated and left for Bucknell University in Pennsylvania, where he’s studying biomedical engineering and economics on a full scholarship.
By every measure, they’re doing exactly what I hoped they would do.
What I wasn’t prepared for was how much their leaving would force me to think about my own next chapter.
When my oldest son left for college, the house felt completely different
I moved to Los Angeles from New Jersey to pursue a career in television and entertainment. I’ve hosted television shows, acted in films, and had opportunities I never imagined when I was younger.
But when the kids came to live with me, Los Angeles stopped being a place where I worked and became home. Their presence gave me roots here. My days revolved around school schedules, meals, conversations, and all the little moments that come with raising teenagers.
When my oldest left for Bucknell two years ago, I wasn’t prepared for how empty the house would feel.
I remember one time at the grocery store. I was shopping the way I always had, filling my cart with food for three grown men. Then I looked down and realized I didn’t need nearly as much anymore. I wasn’t feeding the same household. Standing there in the grocery store, it hit me that life had changed in a way I couldn’t undo.
Back at home, I’d walk past his room and see it sitting empty. The room that had always been full of noise, activity, and life was suddenly quiet. Those little reminders were everywhere. For weeks after he left, I found myself emotional in ways I didn’t expect.
My younger son’s graduation made me realize my daily routine was ending
As difficult as it was when my oldest left, I still had my younger son at home. There was still school every morning, daily conversations, and the routines that naturally come with parenting.
Then graduation day arrived.
That morning, I was brushing my teeth when a thought hit me so hard I nearly choked on my mouthwash. I realized this was the last time I would go through the routine that had defined my mornings for years.
For the last six years, I’ve driven my son to school almost every day. We’d talk in the car, and when he got out, we’d end our conversations the same way. I’d tell him I loved him, tell him he was my favorite, and tell him to have a great day.
Then he’d walk away.
It sounds simple, but those small rituals become part of your life. They anchor your day. Standing there that morning, I realized that chapter was ending.
As a parent, you spend years preparing your children for independence. You want them to grow, succeed, and build lives of their own. Then one day you realize you’ve spent so much time preparing them that you haven’t thought much about preparing yourself.
For the first time, I have to figure out who I am outside being a dad
My son will leave for college this summer. Around the same time, I’m leaving Los Angeles and relocating to Bali for a while.
For me, it’s an opportunity to reset.
My entire adulthood has been filled with the responsibilities and routines of fatherhood. My schedule, priorities, and daily life have been built around raising children. Now, for the first time, I have to figure out what life looks like when they aren’t physically with me every day.
I don’t want my son carrying the weight of my personal struggles while he’s beginning this exciting chapter of his life. He deserves the freedom to focus on college, make friends, and discover who he’s becoming. That means I need to do my own work and create a new routine for myself.
I’ll always be their father. That part will never change.
What is changing is the shape of my everyday life.
One son is thriving at Bucknell. The other is preparing for Morehouse. Watching them grow into young men has been the most meaningful accomplishment of my life.
Now, while they’re starting their next chapter, I’m realizing it’s time for me to start mine too.
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