Ink & Shadows: The Words of Osiris j Reapor

One of the biggest parts of my identity is being a dad.

For the past 12 years, I’ve had the honor—and the challenge—of being a father. But my journey didn’t begin in a delivery room. Long before I ever held my own child, I was already stepping into the role of a father—helping raise my siblings because my biological father was absent, and my stepfather was abusive and uninterested.

I grew up in a house where love was scarce and survival was the goal.

So I told myself early on: I’ll never be a dad. Not because I didn’t believe in the role—but because I was terrified. I was terrified of repeating the cycles I had lived through. Terrified that I’d cause the same kind of pain I had grown up with.

And yet, life had a different plan.

I remember exactly how I felt when I found out I was going to be a father for the first time: pure joy and absolute terror. The thought that I might be a bad father haunted me. But in the same breath, I was overwhelmed with love. From the very moment I knew of his existence, I was in love with him.

That night around 3am—I couldn’t sleep—I stared at the ceiling and made promises to my unborn child:

I will give you all the love I never had. I will always protect you. I will never disappear. Daddy loves you, little dude.

“I’m a dude, he’s a dude, she’s a dude, ’cause we’re all dudes! Hey!”
— Ed (Good Burger)

And when he was born, and I held his hand for the first time in the NICU, I knew it—this is it.
I’m a father. This is forever.

Today, I have three sons. And I raise them in the exact opposite way I was raised.

• I tell them I love them more than all the stars in the sky—every single day.
• I give them goodnight kisses every single night.
• I encourage their emotions. I explain the world to them.
• I do not lash out. I do not let anger lead.
• I am affectionate, present, and vulnerable.

My children know that my only fear is something happening to them.
They know the only gift I ever want is time with them.

In every way, I am breaking the cycle. And I’m constantly reminded of how important that is—when they wrap their arms around me, when they tell me I’m the best dad in the world.

Their love grounds me. It heals me. It reminds me I’m doing something right—even when I doubt myself.

Because parenting is a long game. You don’t really know if you’ve done well until your kids are grown.
So I keep showing up. Every single day.

Becoming a Father to More Than My Own

During the COVID-19 pandemic, I unexpectedly began working with children ages 6 to 17.

A friend of mine asked if I’d be interested. I believe my exact words were,

“F*** no. I hate other people’s kids.”

But I was going stir-crazy at home after my sons went back to their mother’s house, so I took the job.
And what I found there changed my life.

These kids needed something I recognized immediately:
A stable, compassionate male figure.
Someone who listened. Someone who showed up.
Someone who didn’t hurt them.

All of the things I had also needed.

Some told me they wished I was their dad. That my kids were lucky. That if they’d had someone like me earlier, maybe things would’ve turned out differently.

I wasn’t just an adult in their lives—I became the father figure I had once wished for.

The Ones I Lost—and Why I Keep Going

Two of the kids I worked with left a lasting mark on me forever. I can’t say their names. But I can say this: they’re gone.

In their suicide notes, they mentioned me by name—thanking me for the support I gave them. Not for some magical remedy. Not for superhuman wisdom. Just for being there. For showing up.

They apologized to me, saying they knew I’d be disappointed.
They asked for my forgiveness.

They didn’t need to ask. I gave it freely. And I begged for theirs in my prayers later.

Even though I couldn’t save them, their deaths made my purpose unshakably clear:

Show up.

Since then, I’ve helped dozens of others—some graduate high school, some recover from addiction, some simply learn to value themselves again.

What they’ve taught me is simple, but profound:

Kids don’t need perfection.
They need presence.
They need someone to show up.

I’ve seen myself in so many of them. And to them, I wasn’t just talking about strength.
I was living it.

Strength and compassion personified.
And just like with my own kids, failure was no longer an option.

Why Fathers Matter

It’s not just my experience—it’s backed by research. Children with involved fathers consistently do better in nearly every area of life.

Academic Success

Children with engaged fathers are 39% more likely to earn A’s and 45% less likely to repeat a grade.
(Source: U.S. Department of Education)

Emotional Stability

Kids with present dads are less likely to experience depression, anxiety, or behavioral issues.
(Source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention)

Better Decision-Making

Teens with active fathers are more likely to avoid risky behavior and have higher self-esteem.
(Source: Father Involvement Research Alliance)

Lifelong Impact

Over 60% of fathers today say parenting is central to their identity.
(Source: Pew Research Center)

Fathers help to shape the future.
When a child feels safe, seen, and loved by their dad—or a father figure—they stand taller in the world.

A Note to Mothers and Single Parents

Before I close, I want to make something very clear:
I am not excluding women or diminishing the impact of single mothers in any way.

I have seen—time and time again—strong, loving, and capable mothers carry the full weight of parenting when they are left to do it alone. Many of them are heroes in every sense of the word.

But my message isn’t about taking away from mothers—
It’s about calling men to step up so mothers don’t have to carry it all.

I’m not asking for praise. I’m asking for presence.

I co-parent my children, and their mothers are phenomenal.
They are strong, nurturing, and play an essential role in who our children are becoming.
But I also know this:
Without me, my sons might grow into very different men.

We raise them together. We give them roots and wings—through balance, accountability, and love.

This message is an encouragement to fathers, not a dismissal of mothers.
Because children deserve all the love they can get—from everyone who can give it.

Final Thoughts

Being a father isn’t about perfection.
It’s about presence.
It’s about breaking generational cycles.
It’s about creating something better—even when you never had the blueprint.

To the dads reading this, and to the father figures who stepped up:

You matter more than you know.
The late-night talks.
The calm voice in chaos.
The hugs.
The “I love yous.”
The discipline delivered with compassion.
All of that is shaping someone’s life.

And to my younger self—the scared boy who swore he’d never be a father—I would say this:

You will become the man you always needed.
And your children—and countless others—will thrive because of it.
Hold on. It’s worth it.

📚 Sources

• U.S. Department of Education, “A Call to Commitment: Fathers’ Involvement in Children’s Learning”
• Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), “The Importance of Fathers in the Healthy Development of Children”
• Pew Research Center, “7 Facts about American Dads”
• Father Involvement Research Alliance (FIRA), “The Effects of Father Involvement”