Your love still has no shelf life

 Today is Father’s Day, and it would have been my father’s birthday.

The sun is bright outside, but inside I feel a little overcast. The house is quiet, and part of me wishes my phone would ring and I could hear my father’s voice on the other end.

Father’s Day has a way of touching places that ordinary days don’t. Even when we’ve made peace with a loss, there are certain dates that remind us of the shape of that love and the space that person occupied in our lives.

A while before he passed, my father and I had a conversation about love. I told him I would never get married again. No courthouse. No name change. Never. He laughed. I told him, “Love is voluntary. I don’t need a license to love. When I help a homeless person, I volunteer. Love is a choice.”

He listened and then shared some wisdom only a father can give.

“One day, you may want to share your life with someone. Just remember, you won’t like them every day—but love is still a choice.”

Today, I wish I could call him and tell him something.

I’d tell him I’m no longer saying never.

I’d tell him that life has a way of softening convictions we once thought were permanent.

I’d tell him that after loss, disappointment, grief, and healing, I’ve discovered something beautiful: the desire to love never left me.

Death teaches us many things. One of them is that love doesn’t end when a person’s earthly life does.

I remember telling my father, “Your love has no shelf life.”

He would light up every time I said it.

Now I know it to be true.

My father is no longer physically present, but the lessons, the influence, the laughter, the memories, and the ways he shaped me continue to live within me. In that sense, he remains very near.

“His spirit never leaves me. He’s closer to me now than before.”

I know today may be difficult for many people. For some, this is the first Father’s Day without the man who was their hero. For others, it may be the second, tenth, or twentieth.

Whatever the number, the love remains.

The celebration simply changes.

My father was one of the most complex men I’ve ever known. Fierce on the football field, a celebrated running back, strong, determined, and unforgettable. But to me, he was so much more than any accomplishment.

He was Dad.

And while I am still renovating the space his absence created, I am grateful. Grateful for every lesson. Every conversation. Every laugh. Every correction. Every sacrifice. Every moment of love.

Today, I celebrate him.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad.

Your love still has no shelf life.

My Prayer:

Heavenly Father, thank You for my father. Thank You for every lesson, every memory, every sacrifice, every laugh, and every moment of love. Thank You that what he gave me remains. I pray to feel Your peace and Your presence, every step forward. 

Amen. 🙏🏽❤️