When my daughter Sophia took her last breath at 10:35 p.m., something strange happened. I didn’t fall apart like I thought I would. I didn’t collapse next to my wife, Natalie, sobbing and lost. Instead, a strong energy filled me. My mind became clear. I knew what I had to do, take care of my little girl one last time. Only I could be the one to do that.
Courtesy of Natalie Weaver
I called the nurse and the funeral home. I comforted Natalie and our family. I even cut a few locks of Sophia’s long, beautiful hair so we could always have something of her with us.
When the funeral home coordinator arrived, I picked Sophia up gently, holding her one last time .I gently carried her down the stairs and laid her onto the stretcher.
Courtesy of Natalie Weaver
I made sure she was secure as they loaded her into the van. At 2 a.m., I followed the van to the funeral home. I helped move her to a private room, where she’d stay until I could return in the morning to finish the paperwork. It was easily one of the most difficult moments of my life.
But Sophia needed me, and I had to be strong for her.
Courtesy of Natalie Weaver
It’s been seven months since Sophia passed away, but it often feels like much longer. I’ve attended a few grief counseling sessions, but honestly, I still haven’t fully processed what happened. I’ve never been great at expressing emotions or showing vulnerability. I focus on Natalie, our other kids, and work — anything but the pain. Her birthday came in October, then the holidays, and it all hit harder than I was ready for.
Courtesy of Natalie Weaver
Some days, I feel like the sadness will never go away. I write her name with a heart on the shower glass almost every morning. Maybe it’s my quiet way of remembering her and feeling her close to me.
The truth is, I miss her more than words can say. I’ll never get to hold her or kiss her again. That kind of pain stays with me every day, it never really leaves.
Courtesy of Natalie Weaver
I know she’s no longer hurting, no more surgeries or scary nights. Even so, I’d give anything just to hear one more laugh or feel one more hug.
Courtesy of Natalie Weaver
Sophia was a fighter from the day she was born. Her strength gave me mine. She taught us that love and moments matter more than time. She made people smile, and I like to think I made her laugh more than anyone.
Courtesy of Natalie Weaver
She was my shooting star. And I’ll always be proud to be her daddy.
Courtesy of Natalie Weaver
I love you, Sweet Sophia.
Love, Daddy.
