This isn't something that I typically talk about, but the more people that I meet, the more I realize how common my story is.
When I was three years old, I met the man that I now call "Dad." On his first date with my mom, he came home with her and gave me a stuffed dog that I named "Princles." I thought it was the coolest thing in the world that he made an effort to get to know me and acknowledge me while he was dating my mom. Fast forward two years, and they got married, and I got adopted soon after. Growing up, my dad was the only dad I ever knew. He stepped up to the plate and raised me like I was his own flesh and blood.
My dad was there for me through my first days of school and every softball game and band concert. He cheered me on in even the most mundane things. He was there through my ridiculous middle school temper tantrums and smart mouth. He was there through my first heartbreak, when I thought the world was crashing down around me. He was there to stand by me during my senior recognition in high school marching band. He was there to waltz with me at prom. He was there when I moved three hours away from home to start college, and supported me every step of the way, even when it was so hard on him. He will be there in a few short months when I graduate from college. And one day soon, he will be the man that walks me down the aisle to give me away to my future husband.
Over the last 17 years of being married to my mom, my dad has shown me what true, unconditional love looks like. He blessed me with two awesome little brothers and has been a great father to all three of us. He has set a very high standard for my future husband, both in respect to being a husband and a father. He's shown me how important it is to marry someone who values me and pushes me to be a better person.
My dad has filled a gap that I never really knew existed. He's shown me what a father should look like - sticking around through the good and the bad. He taught me to appreciate the little things in life.
He didn't have to love me from the beginning, but he chose to. He didn't have to marry my mom when she had a five year old, but he chose to. He didn't have to step up to the plate and raise me like his own, but he chose to. He didn't have to adopt me, but he chose to. He didn't have to be a father to me, but he chose to.
On December 4, 1999, my mom and I went from something's missing to a family, and I couldn't be more thankful for the impact that my dad has had, and continues to have, on my life.
