When you are 4 years old, everything is wonderful. You get naps and snacks at school, you can play the day away without any repercussion, and you begin to make real, memorable friends. Well, as crazy as it sounds, my best friend at this time was a 26 year old guy with a heart fuller than his beard. Little did I know that my best friend, Mr. Jay, would one day become my dad.
When I was younger, my biological father was in the Navy. So, I was used to him not being around for extended periods of time. Not only was he always gone because he was deployed, he was very absent. During those times where my father was deployed, it was just me, my mom, and my baby brother. That was until my mom met a well-built, kid-loving, bearded man named Jason. Call it luck of the Irish, but we met Mr. Jay on March 17, 2001 at the Norfolk, Va. St. Patrick's Day Parade on Granby St.
Mr. Jay was my favorite human being on this planet. I used to jump and squeal when I would find out that we were going to hang out with him. He was there for all of my birthday parties and always gave my the coolest Barbies, he would pick me up from school and always give me a piece of my favorite gum, Dentyne Ice in the black package, and he was always at my dance recitals. He was my favorite Jeep Grand Cherokee driver, 3 Doors Down listener, Chuck E. Cheese date, babysitter, and friend.
At this time, my Mom and Jason were simply best friends. But, Jason was that best friend that would drop everything to help out my Mom, be the shoulder for her to cry on, and offer support in any way imaginable. I was young, so although my memory is a little fuzzy, I can remember how much Mr. Jay made even the rainiest days just a little brighter. I can remember the way he would joke with me, and my Mom until our stomachs hurt. I can remember the way he would smell after coming to visit us after work. I can remember the way he made my Mom smile really big. I can remember Mr. Jay being the first person I wanted to see whenever something great happened.
Well, one day when I was six years old, me, my mom, and Mr. Jay were packing up my old house. I had to put all of my Barbies in a box, my Cinderella bed set in a separate box, and all of my clothes in a suitcase. It was later explained to me and my younger brother that Daddy was no longer going to be living with us, and that we were going to go live with Granny in Texas. I remember getting in a car with my mom and brother while Mr. Jay and Mr. Mark were in a U-Haul behind us, and waving goodbye to our house on Granby street.
Moving to Texas was ok because that is where all of our family is. So, although I had to leave my friends, school, dance studio, and home, I was told it would be ok. And I knew it would be. But, the worst part about moving to Texas was leaving my Mr. Jay behind. Who else was I going to toot and giggle with? Who else was going to take me to and from school? Who else was going to make inside jokes with me? We talked on the phone almost every night and he came to visit as much as he could. But, everything had changed so fast, I just wanted my best friend.
After living in Texas for a while, we moved back to Virginia and moved into a little house together; all four of us. One fall day in October, Mr. Jay pulled my brother and I aside to ask us a very, very important question. He wanted to know if it was ok that he asked our Mom to marry him. Without a doubt, Parker and I jumped up and down, and said yes about a hundred times.
Our family became one on July 28, 2007.
It's not perfect. We fight, argue, say hateful things, say regretful things, do things we aren't proud of, and act out of anger. But, all things put aside, all actions forgiven, and through everything that has ever happened between us, I still remember the day his title went from Mr. Jay to Dad. It was awkward, challenging, and exciting: much like our relationship. We may not get along sometimes and we may disagree on so many things, but he's always wanted the best fro not only myself, but my family. He does things that we may see as unnecessary, but eventually make sense. He may not be the perfect dad, but he's my dad.
Thanks for letting me ride on your shoulders on March 17th, 2001. Thanks for letting me dance on your shoes on July 28, 2007. Finally, thanks for being here for me to write about you on April 27, 2017.
