“Missing Liam” apparently means animating an old photo from 2015 and posting it for attention.

But actually doing the work required to see him? Still no movement.

That is what makes this so hard to watch.

If you miss your son so deeply, why is there time and effort to turn an old picture into a performance piece, but not the time, money, or urgency to complete the one in-person assessment required to even start the process? If you can coordinate and send Nathan airline tickets to come see you, then the claim that you somehow cannot manage the travel, effort, or expense to show up yourself starts to ring very hollow.

At some point, “I miss him” stops sounding heartfelt and starts sounding curated.

Because real love is not measured by a profile picture.
It is not measured by a caption.
It is not measured by what strangers on social media are supposed to think when they see an old memory reposted at just the right moment.

Real love shows up.

Real love does the inconvenient thing.
Real love sits through the required assessment.
Real love makes the flight.
Real love takes the first uncomfortable step without needing applause for it.

That is the part that keeps standing out: the energy for appearance is always there, but the energy for action never seems to arrive.

And eventually, children grow up enough to see the difference between being missed and being pursued.
Between being loved and being used as a symbol.
Between a parent who wants the relationship, and a parent who wants the image of wanting the relationship.

So yes, the question is fair:
If Liam is missed so much, why is all of this effort going into the optics of fatherhood instead of the responsibilities of it?

Because from the outside, it looks less like grief and more like branding.
Less like heartbreak and more like image control.
Less like a father trying to rebuild trust and more like a man trying to be seen as one.

If you really miss Liam, then stop animating the memory and start doing the work required to make a new one.