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Some days it hits out of nowhere.
I’ll be in the garage, surrounded by tools. Or watching a game on TV. Or standing in the middle of a perfectly normal day and suddenly the thought lands heavy and familiar:
I miss my dad.
Not in a dramatic way. Not always with tears. Just a quiet knowing that someone who helped shape me isn’t here anymore.
My dad passed away in February of 2021. And even now, years later, missing him hasn’t gone away. It’s just changed how it shows up.
The Small Moments That Stay With You
When I think about my dad, it’s not the big milestones that come first.
It’s the garage.
Simple woodworking projects. Nothing fancy. Just the two of us building something with our hands, figuring it out as we went. Those moments didn’t feel special at the time but they’re the ones that stayed.
As a kid, I gravitated toward my dad. He worked hard, often overnight shifts, and time wasn’t always on our side. But when we were together, we were together. He made sure I had what I needed. We did things side by side. That’s how he showed up.
That’s how I felt safe.
If you miss your dad too, you probably understand this part. It’s rarely one big memory. It’s the ordinary ones that linger.
A Dad Who Was Quiet, Kind, and a “Good Egg”
Other people might have described my dad as passive or laid back. He was kind. Cool. Creative. Silly in his own way.
To me, he was steady.
He wasn’t loud about love. He didn’t overexplain things. He just was there. In his own words, he was a “good ol’ boy” a “Good Egg.”
And honestly? That feels like the best way to be remembered.
Sports, Side by Side
We shared a love for sports basketball and baseball especially. Soccer, football, NASCAR… if it involved a ball or a race, we probably watched it or talked about it.
My dad even coached soccer and baseball. He wasn’t the loud, yelling-from-the-sidelines type. He showed up, taught the game, and let kids be kids.
There isn’t one specific sports moment today that sends me back to him. It’s more subtle than that. It’s the rhythm of a season. The sound of a game on TV. The feeling of sitting next to someone without needing to say much.
If you’ve ever watched a game and suddenly wished your dad was on the couch next to you that’s what I mean.
When Distance Creeps In
Not every father-son relationship stays simple.
As I got older, communication with my parents became difficult. Some of it came from family trauma. We lost a family member on my mom’s side, and it strained everything. Grief has a way of doing that it doesn’t always bring people together. Sometimes it pulls them apart.
From about 17 to 19, things became intentionally distant. My mom was toxic during that time, and my dad was caught in the middle. He wanted to support his wife more than anything, and I understand that now in ways I couldn’t back then.
Life moved forward. Time passed.
Before I knew it, I hadn’t spoken to my dad in over two years.
After He Was Gone
When my dad passed, the emotion wasn’t just sadness.
It was emptiness.
A strange mix of peace and loss. Peace that he wasn’t struggling. Loss for everything I assumed I’d have more time for.
I never thought he would go so soon in my life. If I’m honest, I would give a lot just to sit with him a few more times. No big conversation. No fixing the past. Just being there.
If you’re reading this with a complicated relationship behind you, hear this clearly:
Distance does not mean lack of love.
Sometimes it just means life got messy.
Seeing Him Through My Own Kids
Becoming a dad changed everything.
It gave me perspective. It softened some old edges. It helped me see my dad not just as my father but as a man doing the best he could with what he had.
In many ways, I’m similar to him.
I share sporting events with my kids. We work on DIY projects together. We sit side by side and build things sometimes with wood, sometimes with memories.
And when I say “I miss my dad” now, it’s deeply personal.
I miss his smell.
I miss him picking on me.
I miss him just being a good ol’ boy.
I miss the version of life where he was still part of it.
If You’re Saying “I Miss My Dad” Too
If you found this because you miss your dad, I want you to know a few things.
Missing him might come in quiet moments not dramatic waves.
You might miss him more during good times than sad ones.
You might carry guilt, even if you don’t fully understand why.
And none of that means you’re doing grief wrong.
What doesn’t help are clichés. “Time heals.” “Everything happens for a reason.” Those phrases don’t make the missing go away.
What does help even a little is letting the feeling exist without trying to fix it. Talking about him. Doing something he loved. Saying his name.
Most importantly, stop blaming yourself for not having a perfect relationship.
Real life rarely works that way.
It’s Okay to Miss Your Dad and Keep Living
Missing your dad doesn’t mean you’re stuck.
It means you loved someone who mattered.
You’re allowed to remember him, honor him, and still live a full life. You’re allowed to carry both grief and joy at the same time.
If this post gives you permission to do anything, let it be this:
Give yourself grace.
And if it helps, know you’re not alone in thinking it.
I miss my dad.
