The Loss of My Father: Grief, Love, and the Man Who Was My Everything
Losing my dad shattered something in me that I’m still trying to piece together. He wasn’t just my father—he was my whole world. The funniest, kindest, most loving and caring man I’ve ever known. His presence filled every room, and his absence now echoes in ways I never imagined possible. He had this way of making everything feel safe. He could turn an ordinary moment into a lifelong memory—through laughter, stories, or just his quiet way of being there. I miss the smell of his cigars. I didn’t think I would, but now I crave that familiar scent because it meant he was near. I miss his soup—deeply. Growing up in a Jamaican household, soup wasn’t just a meal, it was an experience. And his? Always a 10 out of 10. No matter how many times I try, I can never quite perfect that recipe. But I think he’d be proud that I’ve learned to make dumplings—something he always said made the soup complete. It’s my little way of keeping him close. I miss the endless stories—some repeated, some wildly exa...