"My father didn't tell me how to live, he lived, and let me watch him do it."

Happy Father’s Day!  This morning when I woke up I had to finish wrapping a couple presents and I knew I wanted to write a quick post.  My only instructions last night were, “I want to sleep in, and I want the air conditioner to stay turned down.”  You see, I am fine with sleeping with the air down, but I truly don’t like air conditioning.  I need it and I appreciate it, but I am very sensitive to cold air.  I think it must be my advancing age.  So, I am sitting here, on this beautiful morning, bundled up, drinking coffee, looking at my camouflage and newsprint wrapped gifts, thinking about how much I cherish the men I know who are fathers.

I have thought about this a lot because my relationship with fathers as a kid was not an easy one.  My parents divorced (it wasn’t very Hollywood amicable) and my sister and my mom and I made our way in the world.  It wasn’t different from most other people’s narratives, but it hurt nonetheless.  My mom is amazing.  We did fine.  But it hurt.  I loved my dad.  Survival without one is possible but it is far from ideal.  I guess that’s why I am amazed by really great fathers.  Because of my experiences, I look at being a dad as a choice.  A really monumental, tough choice.  And although I know this isn’t the case for everyone, for me, the men in my life who have acted as dads to me have never stopped being there, even though they probably wished (on more than one occasion) they could have.  The men I love and cherish on this day made the choice to stay, and if I had to define FATHER, I would say: a father is a real man who CHOOSES to stay.  Additionally, for me, a FATHER does what he can to repair things—lawn mowers, antique dishes, cars, hearts.

This year has been tough.  My dad, who adopted me when I was in the fifth grade, has been really sick.  Most of my friends have been praying and asking, and with much luck, determination and blessings, he has made it through some pretty terrible stuff.  My family has been at the hospital a lot.  Each time, my dad gets frustrated that, not unlike a bad penny, my sister and I are always there.  You don’t need to be here, he snarls.  I know.  I am a forty year old woman with clearly a mind of my own, I don’t HAVE to be anywhere is always my reply.  He probably doesn’t understand—I will always be there because he taught me that even if you don’t get it, even if you can’t do a single thing except sit and take selfies and read and chat, it is the being there that matters.  It is how I know without a doubt that he loves me.  He is the ultimate “bad penny” that constantly keeps turning up.  Once he made the commitment to be my dad, he did it.  Never loud, never screaming from the rooftops (I get that stuff from my mom) but quietly and consistently.  And he fixed things.  All the time, fixing things.  Never in a way you would expect, he NEVER follows the instruction manual, he never puts things back to original factory settings.  He fixes things in a way that at first looks like a mess, but once you get in there and see what he has done, you realize that incredibly, this mess of 2x4’s, Velcro and hooks is now something kind of miraculous.  It’s how I feel about my dad and I’s relationship.  When I look at all the pieces that we have melded together through the years, I realize it is something really remarkable and so much more than we could have built if we had simply followed the directions on the box.

Through this process, there is another man I want to appreciate today.  My dad has a son named Greg.  He is my half-brother.  Each week, as I write my blog, it is really scary to post this freaking thing.  I love writing it, but once it is out there, people have the opportunity to read it, scrutinize it, and judge me.  I’m not so great at that part.  But, this was my new year’s resolution—to write more and put it out there.  These blog posts are far from perfect.  But each week, my brother reads them.  He chooses to write me a note of encouragement.  I have seen from his Facebook posts that he is so incredibly there for his entire family.  Recently, while he has been struggling with the health of our dad, he lost his mom.  I witnessed his strength for his entire family.  He took that burden on.  Happy Father’s Day, Greg Edwards.  You are an amazing man!

But, my favorite dad of all is my husband.  Seriously, I am so overwhelmed by his ability to be a great dad that I am crying just thinking about attempting to put into words everything he has done for our family.  Yesterday, my son turned 18.  When he got home from work, at 10:45, he was so proud.  He had purchased a pipe and some tobacco, his “I’m an adult and can do this” purchase.  We had the greatest time laughing and being proud.  My husband pulled out two expensive cigars in a beautiful cigar box and again we laughed and celebrated.  On my son’s 18^th birthday, what he wanted more than anything else, was to sit outside, in the bed of our old 1986 pick-up truck, and smoke a cigar with his dad. And that is exactly what happened.  It was one of the most simply moving things I have ever seen.  They sat there and chatted for hours.  My children and I always know, without a doubt, that no matter how badly we mess up, he will ALWAYS be there for us.  He spends hours with my daughter up in the TV room watching terrible television that I don’t have the patience for—it is there thing.  I hear belly laughs and read tweets about farting, he is ALWAYS there.  When I get emotional, crazy, he is ALWAYS there.  And, it is his choice.  He consistently chooses to be there.  He gets frustrated, he is challenged, but over and over again, he shows up.  I will never forget my daughter’s first play, The Fiddler of the Roof, junior version (which means it goes from three hours to one—whew!)  We had seen it three times (they do four shows) and for the last show, my husband was tired of “If I was a Rich Man-bad-da-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee-dum” and I get it.  If you know my husband, you know that until Olivia and I came around, theater was not exactly his thing.  He was going to stay home and relax a little bit.  I headed downtown to sneak in and watch it one last time.  As the lights went down, I looked up,
and my husband was sitting two tables over from me.  He was there.  He is always there.  My children know, without a doubt in their minds that their dad is their constant.  My children’s dad, my husband, understands and embodies unconditional love.  It is what a real father is.  Justin Moore, I am so blessed to be a partner in this parenting thing with you.  You have taught me so much and I am blessed and honored to witness your relationship with our children.  I love you more than I can put into words.  I’m sitting here freezing, watching it rain and knowing our lawn isn’t going to get mowed again, and my heart is humbled and filled with love and humility.  I hope you have a wonderful day.  You deserve it.  You really are the very best dad for our little family!

I hope your Father’s Day is wonderful.  I hope you will celebrate not just the person who is called Father in your life, but the people who chose to be there.  Have a wonderful week.