The 25th Birthday She Never Reached, And the Mission She Left Behind

Maddie, on your 25th birthday...

June 28th would’ve marked your 25th birthday. A milestone that hits hard in ways I can’t always explain.

It’s been eleven birthdays without you. Eleven years of not hearing your laughter, not watching you roll your eyes at one of my dad jokes, not debating whether your gift was just right, or just wrong enough to warrant a smirk.

At 25, you might have been finishing school. Starting a career. Maybe moving cities or changing paths again like you always did, with curiosity, with fire, with that fearless, stubborn streak. You would’ve been building your life, piece by piece. And I would’ve been cheering you on, probably giving more advice than you wanted and watching you ignore half of it.

Instead, on your birthday, I will visit you. I sit at your resting place. I play your music. I talk to you like you’re still just out of sight.

And I wonder what you would be doing? Who would you be becoming? Would you be in a relationship? Would they have been good enough for you? What kind of impact would you be having on your brothers, on the world?

Because Maddie, even without being here, you’ve made an impact.

Your brothers still speak of you with awe and admiration. They carry your legacy like it’s stitched into their DNA. You’re not gone to them. You’re just woven into who they’re becoming.

And me? I’m still becoming, too.

The last year marked a shift. I stopped trying to get back to the version of myself that existed before we lost you. That man disappeared the day you left. And for a while, I thought I had to find him again. But I’ve let him go.

This year, I leaned into the man I’ve been becoming since. The one building something new. Something with purpose. Something that came from you.

MentorWell was born from your story, not out of inspiration, but out of necessity. I didn’t create it to honour you. I created it because I needed to do something with the grief. I needed to turn pain into something that might help another parent, another teen, another family hold on just a little longer.

And it’s growing. Quietly, steadily. Like healing does.

MentorWell is now a space where teens can talk openly, without fear, without stigma, without being treated like a diagnosis. It’s a space where parents who are barely hanging on can breathe, knowing someone trustworthy is showing up for their child.

And now, your friends, some of the same ones who laughed with you, fought with you, grew up with you, want to be part of it. They’ve asked to be involved. And I would like them to be on the MentorWell advisory board because they carry your voice. They carry your impact. They’re a living vote in your absence.

That’s the thing about legacy, Maddie, it doesn’t fade. It spreads.

I feel you with me in every decision. Every moment of doubt. Every time I think, “What would Maddie have said about this?” You’re still guiding me. Still shaping me.

That’s what you’ve left behind. That’s what we carry forward.

Happy 25th, my beautiful girl.

I love you. I miss you every day.

And I’m doing better.

Especially with you walking beside me.

Love Dad xo