Fathers Day

Father’s Day is a beautiful day. And if I’m honest, it’s also a hard one. For many people, it’s filled with barbecues, family gatherings, and celebrating the dads who are still here. But for those of us whose fathers are no longer with us, the day carries a different weight.

I miss my dad. Not just on Father’s Day—but Father’s Day seems to amplify the silence. It reminds me of the conversations we won’t have, the stories he won’t tell, and the moments we won’t share. There are times I still wish I could pick up the phone and hear his voice one more time. Grief is strange that way. It doesn’t disappear. It changes. Some days the memories bring laughter, and other days they bring tears. And both are okay. I’ve learned that missing someone deeply isn’t a sign that you’ve failed to move on. It’s evidence that you loved deeply.

Love leaves an imprint. And when someone mattered greatly to us, their absence will be felt greatly too. There are things I wish I could tell my dad. I wish I could tell him about the victories, the struggles, and the ordinary moments of life. I wish I could ask for advice. I wish I could thank him again for the things I understand now that I didn’t fully appreciate then. And there are things I know for certain. Dad, you are missed. You are missed by Mom, who still carries a lifetime of memories and the love you shared together. You are missed by your children, who still think of you often and wish they could hear your voice one more time. And you are missed by your grandchildren, whose lives continue to be shaped by the legacy you left behind.

They know your name, they hear your stories, and they are part of a family that has been forever touched by your love. Time may move forward, but love doesn’t disappear. Your chair may be empty, but your presence is not forgotten. Your laughter, your wisdom, your faith, and the countless ways you cared for your family are woven into who we are. We carry pieces of you with us every day. Father’s Day reminds me of what I’ve lost, but it also reminds me of what I still have. I have a Heavenly Father who has never left me. He has been near in the loneliness. He has carried me through the tears. He has been faithful in every season. And on the days when I miss my dad the most, I find comfort in knowing that the Father who adopted me in Christ is still holding me close.

Paul reminds us that we “do not grieve as others do who have no hope” (1 Thessalonians 4:13). The pain is real, but so is the promise. Because of Jesus, death is not the end. Goodbye is not forever. And though we miss you deeply, we do not grieve without hope. We believe that one day, by God’s grace, we will see you again. Until then, we will continue to tell your stories, cherish your memory, and thank God for the blessing of having had you in our lives.

So today, if Father’s Day is painful for you too, know that you’re not alone. It’s okay to smile. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to miss them. And it’s okay to thank God for the gift of having loved someone enough that their absence is still felt.

Dad, I miss you. More than words can say. You are loved. You are remembered. And you are greatly missed. Until we meet again.