Just another empty Father's Day

Father's Day has come and gone for 2022.
The third Sunday in June is another day to me. It's been locked in my DNA since the day I entered the world on October 18, 1969. I never had a father or dad, just someone I refer to as a sperm donor. Saying that is being kind to him.
My heart always tightened whenever I saw my friends with their fathers. Whether to pick them up from school or watch them play sports. All of that eluded me.
A glimmer of hope flashed between 1999 and 2008, when the child lived with me. At first, shivers slid down my spine over being a father. As time passed, my heart stalled for moments. We did a lot of great things together. I enjoyed being a dad as my tight muscles loosened. 
We haven't talked in four years, she's now a mother with two kids.  My loose lips drop open in dejection, unable to hide my disappointment from us not talking. 
Symbolism surrounds me. I had a deadbeat dad and I'm being treated like a deadbeat dad.