Daddyyy😭💔

I don’t really know how to write this neatly. It’s 11:54 at night as I’m thinking about all this, and the sadness feels like it’s stuck in my throat. I think I finally understand something: this is the reason I’ve been down for a while now. I kept thinking it was something else, but it was this. And honestly, I don’t think I can recover by myself right now.

Daddy wasn’t just my grandad. He played the role of a father to us. He stood up for us, protected us, and loved us in a way that made you feel safe. Especially me. He supported everything I did. I never had to question whether he loved me—I always knew.

When my grandparents moved closer to us—closer to my dad, my siblings, and me—I thought that meant there would be more time. I knew Daddy was sick. I knew. But I kept telling myself I’d go later. Somehow, I believed there was still time.

There wasn’t.

I hadn’t even been home since he got sick. He died before my dad called me. I was coming back from work when I heard the news, and what I felt wasn’t shock—it was fear. Because Daddy was such a good man, the kind you don’t imagine losing.

I didn’t witness his burial. I only watched videos. I didn’t cry the way I thought I would, because my grandmother was already crying and I felt like I had to stay strong. But inside, everything was breaking quietly.

What hurts the most is not just that he’s gone. It’s everything I didn’t get to do.

I didn’t get to say goodbye.

I didn’t get to give my last respect.

I didn’t get a final picture with him.

I didn’t get to hold onto one last moment.

And the guilt from all of that is heavy.

Grief has been strange. Some days I’m fine, and other days—like tonight—it all comes back at once. I keep thinking about how present Daddy was in our lives, how much love he gave, and how I wasn’t there at the very end.

People around me are trying to protect me right now. My family. Someone I’m seeing. They don’t want me to be alone with my thoughts for too long, and I’m grateful. But grief doesn’t wait for permission. It finds you anyway.

So this is my quiet prayer:

May Daddy’s soul rest in perfect peace.

May God comfort all of us who loved him.

And may we live good lives—lives that would make him proud.

Rest well, Daddy.

I loved you deeply.

I still do.