I wasn’t prepared to head into Deadpool & Wolverine and find myself crying, yet getting to see Logan (Hugh Jackman) back in action with Wade Wilson (Ryan Reynolds) was an emotional rollercoaster. One moment really stuck out for me above the rest, and it is all because of Wolverine.

Grief is a strange and unpredictable thing. It takes many forms and manifests itself in ways we never expect. For those of us in the “Dead Dad Club,” humor often becomes a coping mechanism—a way to navigate the complex emotions tied to the loss of someone we loved so deeply.

I’ve always found myself turning to jokes, quips, and a dry sense of humor when discussing my father, who looked like Jeff Bridges and loved music. It’s easier to make light of it than to confront the raw pain that lingers just beneath the surface.

But no matter how much we joke, moments arise that strip away that protective layer of humor, exposing the vulnerable heart beneath. Watching Deadpool & Wolverine brought one such moment crashing down on me, as it captured the heart-wrenching idea of meeting your lost parent again, only to realize that it’s not really them.

My father was the kind of man who found joy in movies like Green Lantern (2011), a film that many critics panned but one that he absolutely adored. He could watch Real Steel on repeat, marveling at its blend of action and emotion. His love for cinema was contagious, and my brothers and I spent countless hours by his side, watching his favorite films.

We didn’t always share his enthusiasm—especially not after the hundredth viewing of Green Lantern—but those moments of shared experience created a bond that went beyond the screen. It’s in those memories, etched in the glow of the television, that I find comfort and pain alike. Knowing he would have loved Deadpool & Wolverine only deepens that ache, particularly when the movie touched on themes so close to my heart.

The scene that wrecked me—truly shattered me—was when Laura, also known as X-23 and played by Dafne Keen, encounters a version of her father, Logan. The film places Laura in the void, a liminal space alongside characters like Elektra (Jennifer Garner), Blade (Wesley Snipes), and Gambit (Channing Tatum).

As Wade (Ryan Reynolds) takes his chaotic journey through the multiverse, he repeatedly references the daughter of his universe’s Logan, a girl who was a product of a lab experiment and had inherited her father’s brutal nature. Yet, when we finally see Laura, she is not the fierce and unyielding warrior we remember. Instead, she is a young woman who has learned and grown from her loss, who carries the weight of Logan’s final words to her: “Don’t be what they made you.”

This version of Logan isn’t hers—he is a different iteration, one from another timeline, another reality. And yet, their connection is palpable. The moment Laura realizes that this Logan is not her father is heartbreaking, but what follows is even more profound. In a quiet exchange, Logan tries to distance himself, telling her that she’s got the wrong guy.

Laura’s response, “You were always the wrong guy,” is loaded with meaning. It’s a statement that cuts deep, an acknowledgment of the complicated relationship they shared. Despite everything, there was love between them, a bond forged in the fires of hardship and sacrifice.

Watching that scene, I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to have a conversation with my own father, knowing full well that he’s gone. The idea of seeing him again, only to realize that it isn’t really him, is a concept that hurts beyond words.

There are so many things I wish I could say to him, so many moments I wish we could share. The thought of getting just one more minute with him, even if it wasn’t truly him, brings tears to my eyes. Laura’s interaction with Logan resonated with me on a level I hadn’t expected, as it tapped into the universal desire to reconnect with those we’ve lost.

In that scene, Laura and Logan engage in a conversation that’s as much about what was left unsaid as it is about what’s spoken. They talk about Logan’s flaws, his anger, and his mistakes, yet beneath it all, there is an undeniable love. It’s a love that transcends timelines and realities, a love that persists even when the person standing before you isn’t the one you knew.

For Laura, this Logan may not be her father, but he embodies the spirit of the man who raised her, who fought for her, who died to protect her. It’s a connection that can’t be easily severed, even by the boundaries of the multiverse.

This scene also speaks to the lessons we carry with us from our parents, the way their words and actions shape who we become. Logan’s parting words to Laura—“Don’t be what they made you”—are a plea for her to rise above the violence and pain that defined much of her life. They are words of love and hope, a father’s wish for his daughter to find a better path.

And Laura, in her journey, has taken those words to heart. She has grown into a woman who understands the value of that lesson, who strives to honor her father’s memory by living a life that reflects his final wish.

In many ways, I find myself wishing I could do the same for my father. There are lessons he taught me, both in words and in actions, that continue to guide me. But unlike Laura, I don’t have the opportunity to show him how much I’ve learned, how much I’ve grown.

That’s the cruelty of loss—knowing that the person who shaped you, who helped make you who you are, is no longer there to witness the fruits of their labor. It’s a bittersweet reality that many of us in the Dead Dad Club know all too well.

As Laura navigates her emotions and reconciles her relationship with this version of Logan, I can’t help but think about how I would react in her place. Would I be able to hold back the tears? Would I be able to speak at all? The idea of standing face to face with a version of my father, knowing it isn’t really him, is almost too much to bear. And yet, it’s a scenario that many of us have likely played out in our minds, in those quiet moments when grief overtakes us.

By the end of Deadpool & Wolverine, Laura’s journey has come full circle. She has faced the man who was her father in another life, and in doing so, she has found a measure of peace. It’s a peace born not from forgetting, but from accepting—accepting that the person she loved is gone, but that his influence lives on within her.

That’s a powerful message, one that resonates deeply with those of us who have lost a parent. Our loved ones may be gone, but they are never truly absent. They live on in our memories, our actions, and the lessons they left behind.

For me, watching Laura find another chance with her father—no matter how fleeting or illusory—was a moment of catharsis. It was a reminder that grief, though painful, is a testament to the love we shared with those who have passed. And in that love, there is a kind of immortality. Our parents continue to shape us, even after they’re gone. They are the voices in our heads, the echoes of past conversations, the guiding hands that steer us through life’s challenges.

As the credits rolled, I found myself overwhelmed with emotion. I cried not just for Laura and Logan, but for my own father, for the conversations we never had and the lessons I wish I could show him I’ve learned.

I cried for the movies he’ll never get to see, the milestones he’ll never witness, the laughter and joy that are forever out of reach. But in that grief, there was also a sense of connection—connection to a character who, despite her extraordinary circumstances, reflected the very real pain of losing a parent.

Deadpool & Wolverine may be a film filled with action, humor, and spectacle, but it’s moments like these that give it depth and resonance. It’s a reminder that even in a world of superheroes and multiverses, the most powerful stories are often the ones that speak to our shared human experiences. For those of us in the Dead Dad Club, Laura’s journey is a poignant reflection of our own—a journey through loss, love, and the enduring bond between parent and child.