Three months ago, I lost my dad.
A week ago, we buried him.
A year ago, we were all together at my graduation. None of this was part of the plan.
This time last year, I was celebrating one of the proudest moments of my life and he was right there. I never imagined that one year later, we would be grieving.
Last year, everything felt like it was aligning. I had graduated. Life was starting to make sense. You were supposed to watch us grow, succeed and continue making you proud.
You were calm, reserved, intelligent and hardworking. You didn’t talk much but always knew what to say. You never imposed your will on me. You guided me and allowed me to choose my own path. Not every father does that.
You pampered me like I was still a child. If we were home alone, you would check on me constantly. “Have you eaten?” “Are you okay?” It used to annoy me sometimes. Now I would give anything to hear it again.
Mornings have been the hardest. The house stays dark now. No one parts the curtains at 5:30 a.m. No doors opening. No quiet footsteps moving around. That used to be you. You were the steady presence in our home, the one we called to fix things, to handle things, to make everything feel in order.
It’s been difficult to process. Some days I cry. Some days I just sit with the silence. I wasn’t prepared for this. I truly believed you would walk back into the house and resume your normal routine but God knows best.
I miss you deeply. More than words can carry.
Thank you for the love.
Thank you for the support.
Thank you for believing in me.
I love you, Dad.
Rest well.
