8 Years Without You, Dad: Mourning and Celebrating
Eight years.
It’s hard to believe it’s been that long since I last heard your voice, saw your smile, or got to hug you. Time is strange—it moves forward, but grief has its own rhythm. Some days it feels like you’ve been gone forever; other days it feels like you were just here.Today marks eight years since you left this earth. And I find myself feeling two things at the same time: deep sorrow, and deep gratitude.
I Still Miss You
Grief doesn’t follow a calendar. It hits at random moments—during a quiet drive, a family celebration, or when something reminds me of you.I miss the way you used to say things no one else could get away with. I miss your wisdom, your laughter, your quiet strength. I miss the way you made me feel seen and safe.There are so many things I wish you could’ve been here for… things I wish I could’ve asked, moments I wanted to share.
But I Still Celebrate You
Even in the pain, I can’t help but celebrate who you were.I celebrate your life—how you loved deeply, worked hard, prayed faithfully, and lived with purpose.I celebrate your influence—how your words and values still guide me, even now. How your legacy lives on in our family, in the way we love each other, in the faith you passed on.I celebrate the gift of having had you as my dad, even if I didn’t get as many years as I wanted.
Grief and Gratitude Can Coexist
I used to think I had to choose: either mourn or move on. But now I know better. I know it’s okay to still feel the ache, to still wish you were here, while also living with joy and hope.Grief is love that hasn’t found a place to go. And I’m learning to let that love fuel my gratitude, not just my sadness.
What I Would Say to You Today
If I could sit across from you now, I’d probably just say thank you.Thank you for being who you were. Thank you for showing me what it looks like to be strong and kind, wise and faithful. Thank you for loving me well.And I’d tell you this: I’m still trying to live in a way that would make you proud. I carry you with me—in my words, in my work, in how I love my family and trust God through it all.
Until We Meet Again
I don’t know how heaven marks the passing of time, but I imagine you’re not counting years like we are down here.Still, I hope you know: you’re not forgotten. You’re not just a memory—we still feel your presence, your influence, your love.And one day, there will be no more goodbyes. Until then, I’ll keep mourning and celebrating. And I’ll keep living the best I can with the time I’ve been given.I love you, Dad. Always.