Here’s to the Man Who Stepped in When My Dad Stepped Out
When I refer to him, I call him by his first name. When I look at him, I see someone with two feet planted firmly in my life — while my actual father used those feet to run as fast as they could away from my family.
In his eyes, I see my past and my future. I see someone who loved me unconditionally when he didn’t have to. Someone who got me to sit in his lap as a child when no one else could. Someone who taught me to ride a bike and to drive a car.
I see the definition of a dad, but more importantly I feel it.
Like any dad, he didn’t always have it all figured out. There were curves and bends down the path to becoming a step-parent. He had to learn to navigate them all, but he did it well.
Of course, he had plenty of worries.
He feared my sisters and I wouldn’t like him; that we wouldn’t connect with him. But he tried anyway, and he succeeded. He kept talking to us, even though I was shy and unsure, until I talked back. He didn’t give up until I let him slip through the small crack I had in my heart and decided…