A Father's Day Without Her

Today is Father’s Day. In our home, this day was never marked by grand celebrations, but Sana always remembered. She never let it slip by unnoticed. No matter how busy she was, she would go the extra mile—finding the perfect gift for her dad and making sure they had brunch together, just the two of them. Sana loved her father deeply. She was so much like him—strong-willed, opinionated, fiercely intelligent. They shared a quiet, unspoken bond. Both of them weren’t the most expressive with words, but their kindness and gentleness ran deep, often speaking louder than anything they could say aloud. Idris always brushed off Father’s Day as a “Hallmark holiday,” rolling his eyes at the cards and the consumerism. But we all knew—he cared. He would be genuinely touched (and slightly grumpy) if the kids forgot to mark the day. And Sana never did. She was the only one in the family who could truly challenge him. She’d call him out, hold her ground, and he—who rarely backed down from anyone—could never raise his voice at her. He would listen. He would soften. His eyes sparkled differently around her, filled with admiration and pride. Today is especially hard for him. There’s a stillness in our home. A silence that echoes. How do you celebrate Father’s Day when the one who made it special isn’t here anymore? I see the pain in Idris’s eyes—pain he doesn’t put into words. He’s always been strong , but even rocks wear down under the weight of grief. This kind of loss changes the way you mark days like this. They become bittersweet reminders—not of what’s to come, but of what’s been lost. And yet, in our memory, she’s here. In every Father’s Day card she wrote, every brunch she planned, every playful jab she threw at her dad that no one else could get away with. She’s woven into the fabric of these moments. So today, we don’t celebrate in the usual way. We sit quietly with our memories. We feel her absence and her presence all at once. And we honor the love between a father and his daughter—a bond so deep that not even death can truly sever it. Happy Father’s Day, Idris. She remembered. Always. And she still does.