I know I've been writing about my dad a lot lately, and that has to do with a lot of things. Much of it includes processing the loss I don't think I'll ever move past, and an equal amount has to do with #weddingseason.

The first year after he died, we went to a lot of weddings. And at every one, I had to turn away or remove myself from the reception during the father/daughter dance. They all left me in immediate, embarrassing, soul-shaking sobs. Because as a little girl, I didn't think about the dress or the guy (sorry, Raz) or the flowers. I thought about him walking me down the aisle and giving me that last dance.

Obviously, I never got that dance. And I had to (/still have to) come to terms with that. So, I ran it past Raz, and we eliminated the official parent dancing completely.

Then my high school BFF got married in Sarasota. She had an equally close relationship with her dad, as I've mentioned, and for the first time, I didn't have to worry about turning away. We share the same sorrow and as crushing as it is, and as much as we wouldn't wish it on our worst enemies, I know I took at least a small comfort in knowing I didn't have to worry about how I would react to that dance.

I feel so blessed Raz and I were able to celebrate her and her now husband in Siesta Key. When did we get so old? BRB time to put on age-defying eye cream. 

Sunset in Sarasota.

Waves at Turtle Beach. The colors were unreal.

Whitney + America + a green pot.

This bulldog was having the time of his life. For more thoughts from this spot, check my Instagram (@whitpopa).

Voted America's #1 beach. Raz and I will definitely be back.

28 years loving our daddies. 14 loving each other.