01/30/2026
Today, my heart pauses at the place where the world keeps moving but grief stays honest.
Dad, losing you reshaped the landscape of my soul.
It taught me that love can be heavy and holy at the same time.
There are moments when I still reach for you without thinking, like a reflex written before logic, like a prayer said before words fully form.
What surprises me most is that even in the silence, your love never stops speaking.
It simply speaks in a softer voice.
Dad, you were the one who made hard days feel survivable.
You were courage without needing applause, strength without intimidation, guidance without domination.
You carried the emotional architecture of our family so quietly that I didn't understand the enormity of your love until angels carried you away.
The world thinks grief is loud, but mine sounds like missing footsteps, unfinished conversations, quiet chairs at night, laughter no longer filling the corners of a room.
But love this deep doesn't evaporate. It transforms into presence without body, voice without sound, protection without arms.
So today I pray. I pray that God cradles your spirit in eternal calm.
I pray that angels return to you the peace you gave us daily.
I pray that Heaven recognizes the love you modeled here on earth.
Love that never demanded perfection, only honesty.
I pray that every person reading this, carrying the absence of a father, feels less alone in their ache.
Because a love like yours doesn't stop working when life does.
It intercedes.
It watches.
It protects from above.
I speak your name, Dad, not in defeat but devotion.
Until Heaven lets me hug you again,
I will honor you with prayer.
Amen.
