Don’t Leave Them Without a Story

Read time: 3 minutes

Welcome to issue #041 of Unicorn Parents. Each week, I share practical insights and reflections to help you build a profitable business without missing the magic at home. If you’re serious about winning at work while raising great kids, you’ve come to the right place. This is a community built for ambitious parents who want both.

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I’m on a business trip again.

This time, I’ll be away from my kids for a full week.

Last night, after video chatting them and saying goodnight through a screen, I found myself lying awake, wondering whether being away like this is actually good or bad for them.

So my mind ran an experiment.

I imagined two alternate universes:

• One where I’m always present—never gone, always physically there.

• Another where I’m never present—constantly away, always working.

What surprised me wasn’t which one felt better.

It was that in both universes, I could think of real families (actual examples of fathers that I know) where the relationship with their children remained strong.

Which forced a harder question:

If presence alone isn’t the deciding factor…
what is?

We often assume that physical proximity is the primary ingredient of a healthy parent-child relationship.

And when kids are very young, that’s largely true. (Humans are famously bad at keeping themselves alive as infants).

But if proximity alone were the answer, far more families would be thriving.

We all know parent-child relationships that are strained (or quietly broken) despite parents being physically present all the time.

Same house.
Same dinner table.
Same bedtime routine.

Yet little connection.

Which forces a more honest question:

Presence alone is not sufficient.
But is it actually necessary?

I’m coming to believe that while physical presence is ideal—and often deeply beneficial—it is not an absolute requirement for fostering a healthy parent-child relationship.

We’ve seen closeness fail despite constant proximity.
And we’ve seen love endure across distance.

Which leads to a clearer conclusion:

Presence is neither sufficient nor an absolute necessity.

What’s important is meaning.

Meaning—shared, named, and repeatedly reinforced—is not optional.
It is the load-bearing structure of the relationship.

Because children don’t just experience absence.
They interpret it.

And if we don’t give them a story, they will write one themselves.

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Two Brothers. Different Outcomes.

Growing up, my parents were rarely home.

They worked long hours. When they came back, it was late. By then, my younger brothers were often asleep.

Some mornings, I’d wake up briefly, catch a glimpse of them, feel relieved—and fall back asleep.

But here’s the key difference:

I knew why they were gone.

I knew they were tired.
I knew money was tight.
I knew they were working hard for us.

My youngest brother didn’t have that context.

All he knew was that our parents were busy.
And the story he quietly absorbed was:

“They must love money more than they love me.”

Same parents.
Same absence.
Two completely different narratives.

Today, I go out of my way to care for my parents.
My youngest brother (despite knowing better intellectually) still lacks that same emotional attachment.

The difference wasn’t love.
It wasn’t effort.

It was story.

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Kids Are Never Too Young for Narrative

We tell ourselves, “I’ll explain it when they’re older.”

But children are never not forming meaning.

They are always living inside a story.

And in that story, they are either:

• the reason for what we do, or

• the side character in someone else’s life.

When parents are absent without explanation, kids don’t think in abstractions.
They personalize it.

But when parents explain—even imperfectly—even simply—something powerful happens.

Absence can stop feeling like abandonment.
It can start feeling like sacrifice.

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What We Can Give Instead of Guilt

Many of us carry guilt about work.

The late nights.
The travel.
The seasons of intensity.

But guilt doesn’t actually help our kids.

Meaning does.

What our children need (especially when we’re away) is not perfection, but legibility.

They need to be able to read our hearts.

They need to hear things like:

• “I don’t like being away from you.”

• “This is hard for me too.”

• “I’m doing this because our family matters.”

• “You are not the reason I leave—you are the reason I come back.”

When kids understand the why, they stop feeling left behind—and start feeling included.

So instead of asking:

“Am I away too much?”

A better question might be:

“Am I giving my child the story that helps them understand my absence?”

Because children don’t need flawless parents.

They need parents whose lives make sense.

And when they can see themselves clearly inside our story (even from far away) they stay close.

Always.

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