Usagi Drop ended Thursday on a predictably positive note. I applaud it for staving off the Hallmark-esque barrage of vapid goodwill for so long.

Truth be told, I did not object to Usagi Drop‘s ending. I found myself satisfied with the vague and open-ended nature of the show’s “conclusion.” After all, how does one stop parenting? How can there be an end to a lifelong commitment?

Given this context, even the concluding montage seems excusable. The montage reflects upon the changes in Rin and Daikichi’s character throughout their first year together. Perhaps this is the closest thing we can get to a conclusion— a summary of the show’s major events and the impact these events had on the lives of its main characters.

Usagi Drop‘s distinguishing characteristic is its subtlety. There are no overly dramatic moments. Small crises are just that— small crises. Daikichi even acknowledges them as such. He fusses over Rin’s baby teeth coming out and her (potential) losing of the jump rope contest: small, symbolic milestones in her life which will, through time, fade into the past.

Yet, Usagi Drop‘s subtlety serves it well. It is throughÂ theÂ banality of the show’s events that Daikichi’s love for Rin truly shines. Loving a child in times of serious crisis (illness, grief, etc.) is not noteworthy. Caring for one’s child during such times constitutes the bare minimum of acceptable parenting. Truly extraordinary parents love their kids even when nothing’s going on.Â It is only through the mundane events of Usagi DropÂ that viewers can truly appreciate the depth of Daikichi’s fatherly love.

Indeed, Usagi Drop‘s plot moves steadily towards the mundane. Daikichi and Rin’s meeting constitutes anÂ extraordinary, once-in-a-lifetime event. The first few episodes are concerned primarily with Daikichi attempt to maintain a basic standard of living for Rin— enrolling her in kindergarten, buying her clothing, investigating her family history, et cetera. Yet, slowly, Daikichi’s life normalizes toÂ accommodateÂ Rin’s existence, and it is only from hereÂ that we truly begin to see Daikichi slowly grow more and more affectionate towards her.

Not only do we begin to see Daikichi grow more affectionate, we also see him becoming more assertive. At the series’ beginning, he often asks his cousin or his mother for guidance; by the end of the series, he’s givingÂ advice to his sister and comforting his cousin. Though wracked with self-doubt about his life choices at first, Daikichi gains more and more confidence as the show progresses.

Rin’s biological mother, Masako Yoshii, is a non-character in Usagi Drop.Â But that is well— Daikichi deliberately chose to makeÂ her a non-character. He rejects her advice to have Rin change her last name to match his. In addition, he allowsÂ her to watch Rin cleaning Souichi’s grave, but only from afar. Daikichi asserts his status as Rin’s guardian, fully supplanting Masako’s role and relegating her to an insignificant position.

There’s also Yukari Nitani, Kouki’s mother. Upon first glance, she seems like nothing more than a potential love interest. Even until the very end of Usagi Drop, Daikichi refuses to pursue a relationship with her— a decision which must have upset quite a few viewers. However, she does not merely function as a love interest. Daikichi sees herself as a reflectionÂ of himself; like him, she is a single parent. It’s only natural that he’s drawn towards her plight; he, more than any of the other parents in Kouki and Rin’s class, can empathize. In a society where being a single parent is a source of embarrassment and suspicion, Daikichi and Yukari have found a confidant in each other. Yukari is more than Daikichi’s love interest. She’s his friend.

It’s true thatÂ Usagi DropÂ has no overarching plot. I found myself not so bothered by this, either— after all, life has no overarching plot. In a way, Usagi Drop represents modern life much better than any other slice-of-life show. It fully captures the random, disjointed and mundaneÂ nature of everyday living. These are people with real concerns— going to school, buying new clothes, making friends. These are the things that first graders are concerned with. Usagi DropÂ refuses to make itself, and its lead characters, exceptional. They are run-of-the-mill in almost every way. Rin may be a bit mature for her age, but even she acts her age quite frequently— wetting her bed, refusing to eat medicine, getting excited over winning a jump rope contest, and so on.

The only exceptional part of Usagi DropÂ is its belief in the all-powerful nature of parental love. Despite being a new parent with absolutely no clue how to raise a kid, Daikichi seems to just “get it.” In reality, love is often not enough to overcome barriers in ability. Usagi DropÂ makes no effort to address the difference between enthusiasm and competence. However, since Daikichi is portrayed as a competent and caring person, it’s not too far of a stretch that he’d make a good father. Besides, he isn’t perfect— Rin doesn’t always listen to him, and he relies on the support of his family and his friends in order to raise Rin in the best way possible.

Usagi DropÂ truly is a show for adults. There are no superheroes, no supervillians. The show refuses to cater to those with chuu-2-byouÂ and delusions of exceptionalism. Though there’s quite a bit of Hallmark-esque empty goodwill towards the tail end of the show, I can forgive Usagi DropÂ for trying to be uplifting. I do not fault it for not having a clear-cut conclusion. Life has no clear-cut conclusions, and parental love is eternal. The best we can do is look back, reflect and examine how past experiences have changed us for the better.