There Is No "Step" In Dad

Many years ago now, my mother joined the world of single parents to raise my sister and I. She new it would be difficult but I don't think she had really bargained for how difficult it would be.

In a small Texas town, in the early 80's, single-parents were single-moms...they were also few and far between. No support groups, websites, or friendships to be found in our little community where every little (and sometimes big) thing I did was blamed on my mother's marital status.

In the 10 years it was just us girls, we had a lot of interesting times. Mom met her best friend, who was also a single mother of two girls, we got involved in the best little civic theater Central Texas has to offer (in my opinion at least), and Mom dated a bit.

I only remember meeting a handful of men in all of that time...Mom has always been my number one protector in life, I've seen her ferocity first hand when it came to us girls, so it doesn't surprise me that she took great care in who was allowed the privilege of meeting her daughters. The final man we were introduced to ended the 10 years of the Trés Amigas and finally completed our little family by bringing along another sister and an older brother.

The "Sgt. Major"

I’m not saying I was immediately thrilled with the prospect of “some man” coming into our house and interrupting the routine that we had grown so accustomed to; I was, after all, a teenage girl who still had a lot of “daddy issues” to reign in.  It was not until, at 18, confronted with the fact that the man who I had always called “Dad” was nothing but a wounded animal, best left alone to nurse his wounds, meeting the man that I would marry and being wounded in an unexpected way myself, that I finally was granted the opportunity to heal.  In the safety of a few rooms with a group of people who were strangers at first, I started to learn what relationships truly are for the first time in my short life...and came to some astounding conclusions.

There was no need for me to be bereft at my “fatherless” state, I had a father.  A man who had taught me more in his short 3 years in my life than the ol’ bio-dad had in his limited dealings with me.  I remember sitting down at the dinner table with my mother and this man, who is still best described as a Sgt. Major years after he has retired from service.  Looking into his kind, yet stern face and asking him if he objected to being called “Dad” by me.  The look of bewildered shock registering across his features and his halting, seemingly gruff “Sure...sure...that would be fine.” before he excused himself for a moment.

Dad checks out his new grandson Oct. 17, 2007.

Every day that passes I am continuously grateful for my amazing dad.  He loves all four of his children equally and we him.  I never dreamed that I would find the love, respect, and approval of a father in this man the day he was introduced to me in the lobby of that little civic theater, but thank you God that I did.



I love you, Daddy...thank you for making your little girl a little less ducked up. ;)