01/16/2026
Dad,
It’s been three months since I lost you, and I still don’t really understand how the world keeps moving when you’re not in it the way you used to be. Some days it feels unreal. Other days it feels so heavy it’s hard to breathe. Time feels strange now, like everything is stretched and collapsed at the same time.
So much has changed since October. I’ve changed. I’m learning how to live without calling you, without sending you photos from my walks, without hearing your voice when I need reassurance or grounding. I didn’t realize how much you anchored me until I had to learn how to stand on my own.
I’m learning that grief isn’t something you get over. It’s something you carry with you. It shows up when you least expect it, and sometimes when you expect it most. I’m learning to slow down, to listen to myself more, and to let myself feel things instead of pushing through them. I’m learning that strength doesn’t always look like having it together. Sometimes it just looks like getting through the day.
Today I’m going whale watching, which feels like the most “you” way to honor this day. I know how much you loved the ocean and how much peace it gave you. The vastness of it. The quiet. The way everything else seems to fall away when you’re out there. I like to think you’ll be with me today, in the breeze and the waves, and in that still moment when everyone goes quiet because something incredible is happening.
I wish I could tell you everything that’s been going on. I wish I could hear you tell me I’m okay, that I’m doing my best, and that I don’t need to have it all figured out yet. I hope you know how hard I’m trying to live in a way that honors you and the life you wanted for me.
I miss you in ways I don’t know how to explain. I carry you with me every day, in my thoughts, in my choices, and in the way I try to find beauty even when things feel heavy. Thank you for being my dad and for loving me the way you did. I feel you with me more than I ever expected.
I love you always.
Emily ✨💕
