Last year I shared what it was like having two moms on Mother’s Day. This year I want to acknowledge the one man who has been a true father, dad, and constant support since the day I moved in.
I don’t know what it’s like to be “daddy’s girl” as I’m sure many of my readers feel the same way. Men rotated through my life constantly. Some I called “dad,” but they never stuck around nor actually filled the shoes. Not until I met my foster dad 18 years ago.
Rumor has it, the day I met him, which I talk about here , as I was leaving he asked my mom, “Are you sure we want to do this?” Her response was, “It’s too late now. She is moving in!” I mention this because I honestly could not imagine what life would be like without him. Let me share a little…
My first three years in LA I was carless. I got around by bus and the friends who were kind enough to give me rides. If you don’t know, the public transportation here sucks and this was way before Uber or Lyft existed. I rode the bus to most places, including to school in the valley when I lived on the west side. That took two and a half hours and three busses…ONE WAY. Yeah I know! I used that time to study. It finally got to the point where I didn’t feel safe late night nor was it feasible. I did the research and shopped around for loans, but in the end my dad offered to loan me the money to buy a car. This was huge shock and a turning point in our relationship. I think because I was finally an adult and taking responsibility.
My last post on being the black sheep in the family was extremely difficult for me to write let alone share. After the post I confronted a family member that I never had the strength to before regarding my aunt still being a part of the family. Needless to say, it ended horribly and I felt even more like a black sheep. I called my dad bawling and hyperventilating. He insisted I pull over and calmed me down once I was able to tell him what happened. For the next week he regularly checked in to make sure I was doing okay. My dad tends to reach out every few days regardless if he hasn’t heard from me.
One visit home, my mom went to a workout class and left my dad and me to figure out dinner. We opened a bottle of wine and sat in front of the fire place catching up. We managed to finish a bottle of wine, start another, and eat an entire pizza somehow saving a slice for my mom. Who laughed at us and said, “You two are drunk” when she got home. We didn’t care and continued talking about life. It’s a fond memory of mine.
My dad came to a lot of my horse shows, drove me into school every day, rubbed my head when my wisdom teeth were pulled (worst experience ever), taught me what persistence and hard work earned you, along with so many other things.
My point is he showed up and I learned I could truly rely on him. He did the job with love, compassion, and consistency. More importantly I value all that he is and the relationship I never thought I’d have, but looked for as a little girl.
Thank you, Dad!! Have a wonderful Father’s Day! I love you!
What about you? Do you have someone who fills in your dad’s shoes? Maybe have a mom that plays both roles? Or have a mentor that plays a similar role?