The Silence After Goodbye

Losing my dad changed how I see time, love, and what we leave behind

These past couple of months have left my heart tender.
In just a short span, I’ve lost two pillars of my family — my 99-year-old aunt and, most recently, my dad.

It’s a strange kind of emptiness when the people who’ve always been your steady roots are suddenly gone. The house feels quieter, the air a little heavier, and the spaces they filled now echo with memory.

My dad passed away last week on October 17.
The words still feel heavy — like saying them out loud makes them more final.

It’s strange how quiet the world becomes after a parent is gone.
The phone doesn’t ring like it used to.
The house feels different.
And there’s this new kind of silence — the kind that carries both peace and ache at the same time.

Now, I find myself in a new season — parentless.
No one left to ask about the past.
No one who remembers the stories from before I was born — the people, the places, the moments that shaped our family.
That realization cuts deep. Because when both your parents are gone, you lose more than their presence — you lose the history they carried for you, and for the generations still to come.

I keep thinking about all the things I wish I’d asked my dad. The stories I never wrote down.
How he met my mom.
What moments made him proud.
The lessons that shaped who he was.

When someone you love leaves, time suddenly feels shorter — and the urgency to remember becomes stronger.

That’s what the Dad Journal means to me now.
It’s no longer just a book I created — it’s a lifeline for anyone who still has the chance to ask questions, to listen, and to write things down before silence takes their place.

Because one day, the voice that filled your childhood becomes only an echo — and those echoes are worth holding onto.

✍️ Preserve your dad’s stories while you still can.

You can find the Dad Journal on Amazon.