Dear Dad,
It is October 7th. Today is your birthday. I get on my Facebook page and I look at the memories we have together. And while it sounds cheesy, I start thinking of why I'm appreciative of you.
There's always the obvious: you clothed and fed me, and you have been putting a shelter over my head since I was three. You're hilarious (you, know, in the Dad way). You love me and care for me and are interested in things I have to say. But then there's the thing that not everyone can say to their dads, mostly because it's implied.
You stayed.
You stayed through a marriage that you liked in the beginning and obviously didn't like even before it ended. You stayed after the divorce even though your name is not on my birth certificate. Even though your blood doesn't run through my veins. Even though you missed the infant and toddler years of my life and never got to bottle-feed me or rock me to sleep. You stayed through my teen years when I was dumb and petty even when you could have made me live with my mother. You stayed when I was mad at you and posted Facebook posts about how I hated you because you were either making me do something I didn't want to do or not letting me do something I did want to do. You stayed through boyfriends and drama and idiocy.
You stayed for me.
And not once have I ever repaid you, and never will I be able to. You could have left a thousand times, yet you didn't. You could have made me leave because, well, I wasn't yours. But you didn't see it that way.
You didn't have to pick me up from my mother's house when she was drunk after I called you crying, nothing but a trumpet case in my hand and a cell phone in my pocket. You didn't have to sit in the stands during half time while I marched with my funny hat and my too-long bibbers while my brother was in the field-house with all the other football players. You didn't have to drive me an hour away to college every year and after every break was over because I was too stubborn to get a license. You didn't have to make your hands greasy everyday to provide for me and the other kids. You didn't have to be a dad to me.
But you did.
I guess what I'm trying to say is thanks. I know we don't usually get all gooey and lovey-dovey, but it's your birthday. So happy gushy birthday, Dad.
Love,
Your Daughter
