Today is My Dad’s Birthday

Today is my dad’s birthday.

I don’t really know what I’m trying to say by writing this. There’s no real point or lesson or neat little bow. I just woke up with that pull in my chest — the kind that says you need to talk about him today.

My dad died in June of 2024. Two weeks before my wedding. A year before my son was born.

Most days, I’m okay. Most days, I think about him with so much love and gratitude. I remember his silly jokes, his kind laugh, the way he’d light up a room without even trying. I feel lucky — truly — that I got the kind of dad I did. But then there are days that sit heavier on my chest. His birthday is one of them. The anniversary of his death is another.

Grief has a funny way of softening and sharpening over time. Like it doesn’t always feel like a storm — sometimes it just hums in the background. But on days like today, it feels loud again.

I miss him. I miss him so much.

I think about him all the time when I’m with my son. I imagine how he would’ve been with Becks — how much he would’ve loved him. My dad loved kids. Especially toward the end of his life, as his dementia progressed. I think he felt safe around children. There was no pressure to make sense, to keep up. He could just be — silly and joyful and free.

Sometimes I get jealous. There are people in my life whose kids got to meet him. Who have pictures of their babies in his arms. I wish I had that too. I wish Becks could know him the way I did.

But I also feel hopeful, in a weird way. I’m excited to tell Becks about him. To show him pictures and videos. To tell him that his granddad was kind and funny and thoughtful. That he danced like a goof and laughed constantly. That he made people feel special. That he loved big.

It’s strange — it’s been two years. And yet somehow it feels like forever and just yesterday.

Today, I’m holding space for both the missing and the remembering. I’m thinking about all the people I love who loved my dad too. And I’m grateful for them — for the memories we get to carry together. For my family, who feels this loss in their own way. For my mom, my sisters, my brothers, my nieces, my nephews. This heartbreak isn’t mine alone.

So yeah. Today is my dad’s birthday. And I just wanted to say I miss him.