Why I Took My Dad To the Backstreet Boys’ 25th Anniversary Concert

25 YEARS AGO, my family created a lifelong connection with the Backstreet Boys. It might sound…unique for not just two fangirls, but also their parents, to be devoted to a boyband. But for our foursome, BSB has been the soundtrack to a shared life of love…and unexpected loss.

The connection reached a full-circle moment this year when the group announced on TODAY their “Into the Millennium” Sphere residency in Las Vegas. It was a celebration of the 25-year anniversary of their hit album — but for my family, it was a reminder of a time that changed everything for us.

It all began when I was about eight years old and my sister Leslie and I walked into Lucky’s grocery store. She ran straight to the magazine section; four years older than me, she had recently discovered the Backstreet Boys and wanted to show me her favorite member, Nick Carter.

Grabbing one of the bright teen magazines, my eyes went instead to dark-haired, green-eyed Kevin Richardson. From there, while my mom grocery shopped, our ritual became standing in that aisle, flipping the pages to every Backstreet Boys photo we could find.

Our infatuation only grew as the years went by. We consumed every bit of information about all five “boys,” belted their songs on the radio and religiously watched “Total Request Live” with Carson Daly on MTV. (My cheeks turned hot as I watched the rain scene in “Quit Playing Games With My Heart.”)

Knowing how much we loved them, my mom often gave in to purchasing the BSB merch we saw at the mall and stores. When we begged to call “TRL” countless times, she always indulged us. And when we were in the car yelling every single lyric to every single song? She was right there singing along with us.

By 1999, BSB was embarking on their “Into the Millennium Tour,” to accompany their sophomore album, “Millennium.” Desperate to see them in concert, Leslie and I begged our parents to let us go. By this time, our bedroom was covered in floor-to-ceiling posters; while my dad huffed about our decor choices, my mom never seemed to mind, often buying us more magazines to help us add to our collection.

Finally, my dad gave in after endless pestering: “If you can save up the money to buy your own ticket, you can go.”

For months, my sister and I put aside the money we got from our birthdays and report cards, and we did chores around the house. I pocketed any spare change we found, including the coins by my dad’s wallet. (To me, it was fair game!) When it was time to purchase tickets, we proudly stood in front of my dad with our savings: A grand total of around $100.

Back in those days, we had to go to a JCPenney Ticketmaster concierge to purchase tickets. So we headed to the mall, plopped down our money and asked for two tickets to the Backstreet Boys show in Anaheim, California, the closest venue to our San Diego county town of Ramona.

But then our dad chimed in saying he wanted four tickets. Perplexed, my sister and I looked at each other and told him we didn’t have enough for two more.

He looked at us. “You proved that you can save money for something you really want, and you did,” he said. “As a treat, I will pay for your tickets, and your mom and I will also go.”

On Oct. 15, 1999, I attended my first Backstreet Boys concert (and first-ever concert) at the then-Arrowhead Pond of Anaheim (now the Honda Center). Our seats were high up, but I remember my dad borrowing a friend’s camcorder to record the entire show. Sitting next to us, he zoomed in on the stage as my sister and I fangirled. The moment the band opened the show and flew in on futuristic surfboards, we couldn’t contain our screams.

My mom, dad, sister and I belted out the songs we all knew from repeatedly playing their albums. And when “The Perfect Fan” — the group’s ode to a mother’s love — came on, we dedicated it to my mom.

I saved my ticket from that show, which I still have to this day. My sister and I would rewatch the recording of the concert with my mom on the VCR until it stopped working. As a Mexican household, we also loved the group’s songs in Spanish, like “Nunca Te Hare Llorar,” as well as “Anywhere For You,” or “Donde Quieras Yo Iré.” And it was known that my dad’s favorite song was “I’ll Never Break Your Heart.” But every single birthday and Mother’s Day, for my mom, we’d always play “The Perfect Fan.”

And then, on May 14, 2015, she died unexpectedly in a car crash.

The last day my sister and I saw our mom was on Mother’s Day. We had played “The Perfect Fan” for her that morning. Yet somehow, inexplicably, four days later we were grieving her.

The Backstreet Boys’ song “Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely,” suddenly took on a new significance for me and my sister. The song is about losing someone close to you; at the time it was released, Kevin Richardson was mourning the death of his father, while Howie Dorough had a sister who had also passed. Additionally, the music video was dedicated to their late producer, Denniz Pop.

Still, I never imagined I’d one day listen to the song while mourning myself.

Fast forward to this summer, which marked 25 years since that first “Millennium” concert — and 10 years after my mom died. My sister, Dad and I decided we had to attend the anniversary show in Las Vegas; it would be a way to relive an important memory while also commemorating my mom. Plus, one thing my sister and I have learned is that time is sacred — and we won’t always have our dad around to make memories with.

A day before the July 11 opening night concert in Las Vegas, an ache settled in my chest as I thought about my mom not being able to experience this moment with us. I know she would have been so excited to dress up, and to sing every song while spending time with us. I can even picture her once again wearing the Backstreet Boys scarf we bought at the first concert around her ponytail like she once did, much to my delight.

Ahead of their anniversary shows this summer, the Backstreet Boys asked their attendees to wear white. I didn’t know if my dad would abide by the suggested dress code — but to my surprise, when we met up for the show, there he was in a white button-up and steel blue pants.

The group opened the show with their hit “Larger Than Life,” a song my dad instantly knew. We laughed as he jammed out while recording the entire thing on his phone.

As the show continued, we were all hyped up and tuned in to the graphics and visuals. But when photos appeared on the screen of the Backstreet Boys with their mothers, wives and kids, we knew what song was coming: “The Perfect Fan.”

As the piano played, Kevin took the mic for the first verse. But then, eyes closed, he lifted the mic to his mouth — then shook his head, unable to sing. We assumed he was overcome with grief and sadness as he remembered his own late mother Ann, who died in 2022.