It is easy to post old memories and public declarations of love. It is much harder to do the work required to actually show up for a child. This is about the painful difference between performative love and real parental effort.
There is nothing complicated about this: if you miss your son, you do the work required to move toward him. Old photos, animated memories, and public pity are not fatherhood. They are performance. And after years of documented concern, disruption, and excuse-making, “it’s complicated” sounds less like an answer and more like another shield.