Thank you.

I mean what else can I say? Thank you for being there. Thank you for caring. Thank you for never giving up on me. Thank for holding my hand. Thank you for wiping my tears. Thank you for being my mom. But also, thank you for being my dad.

You may not have the anatomically correct parts that are stereotypical to a father, but you fill the shoes all the same. I mean, what is a father by definition? Someone who cares, loves and supports you? Someone who teaches you right from wrong and how to take responsibility for your actions? Someone who holds you accountable, teaches you, someone who is proud of you? Mom, that sounds a whole lot like you.

Playing both roles couldn't have been easy. Not that my brother and I were characteristically difficult children (we had our moments) but you had to provide for three people without any help. The hours of waking up early to make sure our lunches were packed and breakfast was on the table.Then having to wake us up and get us together along with getting yourself ready. The 10-plus hours you spend all day working without a break, to have to rush to daycare to pick us up by 6 p.m. sharp. The time spent making dinner for to hungry whiney kids, to then turn around and suffer through the dreaded homework time. And then onto bath time, and struggling to get two kids in bed by 9 p.m. so they get the suggested nine hours of sleep per night. You only getting a few moments to yourself, which were often interrupted by child crawling in your bed because they can't sleep. Then before you know it, you have to repeat it all the next morning.

It wasn't the physical or financial support that was important; it was the emotional support that counted. Not only did we always have everything we could ever need, we had what so many people lack – we had love. There was not a day that went by that my mother didn't let my brother and I know how much she loved us. She never made me feel like we were a burden, like we held her back from her life. She didn't always have a smile on her face, but everything she did was for us. To make sure that we were taken care of and that we never missed out on any opportunity.

I am not going to say I never wondered about the man whose sperm created my brother and I. Sure, I've met the guy, and let me tell you I wasn’t a fan. I mean someone can only leave and let you down so many times that it just gets old. I think what I admire most about my mother is that she never spoke ill of our biological father; she let us come to our own conclusions about what he was like. No matter what he put her through, or how many times he let us down throughout the years, she never said or issued any ill will upon him. That had to take some serious balls if I am being frank. You were able to grant someone with so much hate such grace. I used to think that I would miss out on having a father in my life, that there would be this part of me that was missing because of his absence, but you have certainly proved me wrong.

It was you, Mom. The hole that I had in my heart where a father belonged, you filled it. I never had that longing for a father because in truth I already had one. You might anatomically be my mother, but you are also my father. You took on both roles, and for that I will be forever thankful.

You taught me that I am beautiful, that I am loved and that I am wanted. You taught me how to love Jesus with all of my heart, you taught me how to be strong, and that sometimes it's okay to cry, but most importantly you have taught me what true love is. To love and be loved.

I hope that when I am a mother, I can be at least half of the woman you are. That maybe I could teach my kids some of the things you taught me.

So Mom, Happy Father's Day. No one deserves to be appreciated as much as you do.