Goodbye Dad is one of the most personal songs I’ve ever written. It came during a moment of sudden loss, when everything felt unreal and the world seemed to slow down. This song was my way of finding clarity in the middle of shock, and turning a painful day into something meaningful.

I wrote it to honor my father, to put feelings into words that I wasn’t able to say out loud, and to give myself — and hopefully others — a moment of comfort. Over time, more and more listeners have connected with it in their own way. What started as a private goodbye has become something shared, something that reminds us we’re not alone in our grief.

The story behind “Goodbye Dad” began on an ordinary day that changed everything. I remember getting a call from my sister first, asking if I knew mom had been trying to reach me. Before I even had time to process that, my phone rang again — my mother, her voice frantic, breaking in a way I had never heard before. She managed only a few words before she hung up… “Your father has passed away.”

Shock doesn’t hit like in the movies. It’s quiet at first — disbelief, confusion, a sort of numb floating — but it tightens around you with every passing second. I grabbed my keys and drove toward my parents’ home, the whole time trying to convince myself there had been some mistake.

What I remember most was the weather. As I got closer, the wind grew stronger — sharp, heavy gusts that almost pushed the car sideways. In that strange moment, I couldn’t help but feel something symbolic about it. My father was always the type who never showed weakness, even when he clearly needed help. He held everything in, carried everything alone. Those sudden bursts of wind felt like some final echo of his stubborn strength.

When I finally arrived, reality hit like a wall. Everything afterward felt like moving through water — the paperwork, the calls, the procedures, the morgue team coming to take his body, the coroner confirming there was no foul play. All the normal, clinical steps that feel anything but normal when you’re living through them.

When I returned home later that evening, still in a trance, I didn’t know what to do with the mix of shock, sadness, and unfinished conversations replaying in my mind. Around that time, I had just discovered Suno, and something inside me said: Write him a goodbye.
Not with speeches or fancy words — but with a song.

What surprised me was how naturally the lyrics came. Not because it was easy, but because I was living every line as I wrote it. Memories surfaced without warning. Certain phrases made me stop and breathe. Even choosing the right instrumental felt emotional — a few options hit me so deeply I had to pause.

Eventually, the version you hear today became the one that felt true — honest, unpolished, and filled with the emotions of that day. It was my way of saying the things I never got to say in person… and maybe giving my father the goodbye I didn’t know how to express in words.

I share this story because I hope the song brings comfort to others who’ve gone through a similar loss. It wasn’t created for profit or attention — it was simply my way of saying goodbye, and maybe helping someone else feel less alone in their own moment of grief.
Seeing people use the chorus on TikTok and express their feelings through it has been unexpectedly moving. Some captured the emotion so well it reminded me why I wrote the song in the first place. All I’ve ever wanted for “Goodbye Dad” is for it to resonate with anyone who needs it, in whatever way it reaches them.

There are still parts of this story I keep to myself — small memories and quiet lessons that might find their way into the world someday, if life ever opens that door. But for now, this is the chapter I’m ready to share, the part that gave life to “Goodbye Dad.”