Another Father's Day Without You

My dad would drop everything for me.

Didn’t matter what it was. Something broke around the house, he was there. I needed to talk something through, he was there, fully present. He didn’t just show up for me. He showed up with me — at the things I loved, doing the things I loved, because he genuinely wanted to be there, not because he had to be.

He was the one I knew, no matter what, would show up.

And this weekend, the world is full of cookouts and golf clubs and “World’s Best Dad” mugs, and I’m just missing mine.

If you’re reading this and you get it — if Father’s Day isn’t a celebration for you so much as it is a day you have to get through — I see you. Whether you lost your dad last month or fifteen years ago. Whether your relationship with him was everything or complicated or somewhere you’re still making peace with. Whether you’re a daughter, a son, missing the dad you had or grieving the dad you needed and never got.

This weekend can hold all of it. The love. The missing. The unfairness of watching everyone else celebrate something you’d give anything to have one more day of.

You don’t have to pretend this weekend doesn’t hurt. You don’t have to scroll past the photos and the tributes like they don’t get you right in the chest. You’re allowed to miss him loudly today.

So, here’s to the dads who showed up. Who dropped everything. Who fixed what was broken and listened when it couldn’t be fixed. Who loved us loud and showed it.

We miss you, Dad. Every single day. But today especially.

To everyone else missing theirs this weekend — you’re not alone in this. Not even close.

If you’ve enjoyed my writing here, What Remains brings together many of my most meaningful pieces in one place. It’s a collection of writings about grief, love, loss, and the lasting connections that remain.

Available now on Amazon