In honor of Father's Day, I feel it important to share my story. It's incomplete and confusing, sad and interesting all at once.
I have two fathers.
I have one father who cares for me. Takes care of my mother and younger sister. Is a grandfather to my baby. Raised 8 children only to take on 4 more. Has overcome obstacle after obstacle.
He came to our family when we were broken. Even though he had his own trials, he took ours on without even skipping a step. He picked up the pieces and helped us try to move on.
Teenage years? He conquered 12. Not one complaint.
He took on 4 rowdy teenagers that all chose to rebel, nearly at the same time. Over time, we have come to realize the blessing he is every day. He was the savior that pulled us all back together.
It took several years for us all to get to where we are today. Many many long nights spent explaining why things are the way they are.
I have another father, my biological father whom I don't know his story. My relationship with him ended a few years ago. Through the lies, drama and pain he caused my family, we had to let go. We made the decision that we needed to move on with our lives, and in order to do that relationships needed to be severed. His life is a mix of booze, debt, drugs, homelessness and favors that are never returned. Relying on others and draining them of every last ounce of kindness before leaving them in the dust.
The memories I have of my father consist of lies and empty love. Depression that rules his everyday life impacts him to a point where he can't even function, let alone have any relationships. That is how I remember spending time with him.
A father is a daughters first love and a sons first hero. The impact he has on their lives is beyond important, it's vital.
I'm so grateful that my daughter gets to grow up in a family where she knows she can rely on her father and look up to him. He will be there to support her and give her the love that only a father can provide.
I know that our experiences have brought us closer as a family.