Happy Birthday, Dad 🎂

Today would have been my dad's 73rd birthday. And I say "would have been" but honestly — in my heart, it still is. Today is still his day. It always will be.

His name was Steve. And if you never got the privilege of knowing Steve Beasley, I'm sorry — because he was truly one of a kind.

Dad was the guy everyone loved to be around. He had a sense of humor that could fill an entire room and a laugh that you could pick out of a crowd. He was the kind of man who could fix anything — especially when it came to cars. If something was broken, Dad could figure it out. That was just who he was. Capable, steady, and always showing up.

He passed away in 2008 and life has genuinely never been the same. There is a Steve-shaped hole in this world that nothing and no one has ever been able to fill. And I think anyone who has lost a parent knows exactly what I mean by that. It's not just grief — it's this constant, quiet awareness that someone who was supposed to still be here isn't. You feel it at the big moments. You feel it at the ordinary ones too.

What I want you to know about my dad — the thing that feels most important to share today — is that my love for Disney started with him.

My very first Disney memory is standing at Cinderella Castle with my dad. I don't remember every detail the way I wish I did, but I remember the feeling. That sense of wonder. That magic that only Disney can create — and the way it felt even bigger and more real because he was standing right next to me.

He is the reason I fell in love with the most magical place on earth. And now, Disney is quite literally how I make a living. I get to help families experience that same magic every single day — and I think about him every time I do. Every single time.

That castle will always be his too.

Every year on his birthday I keep a tradition that is simple and a little silly and completely perfect: I get a Publix cake slice to celebrate him. Dad loved a good Publix cake, and ever since our Publix opened, that's how I honor the day. It's small. It's sweet. It's exactly the kind of thing he would have loved.

So today I'll get my cake slice, and I'll sit with the memories, and I'll let myself feel all of it — the gratitude for having had him and the grief of losing him far too soon.

And then I'll look at Lennon.

Because here's the thing about losing someone you love that much — sometimes God gives you little glimpses of them in the most unexpected places. I see my dad in my daughter every single day. Her humor. Her spark. The way she lights up a room without even trying. Steve Beasley lives on in that little girl, and that is one of the greatest gifts of my entire life.

Happy birthday, Dad. Seventy-three looks good on you. Save me a slice. 🎂

I love you always.