For me, it is both. But, I remember that I have been blessed greatly! I had a good dad who loved my mom and his daughters. He left us too early, but I know that he loved us, tried to provide for us, taught us, and was a good example for us. He loved God, most importantly, and we will get to see him again. It hurts on this day, among others, to remember him and to know that my kids don't know him and that he has missed all the important things in their lives.
BUT, this is where I am doubly blessed. God didn't leave us all alone. He sent my mom a husband, a mate, a friend. At first I thought he was "okay," but didn't really like the idea of my mom remarrying. Then when they got married, and I had new siblings to deal with and less of my mom to go around (now I had to share her with my sister, and a step-dad, and two step-siblings with issues of their own too), I really started to not like "this arrangement." I was really jealous of Pop and his kids. I remember lots of arguments between various members of our "blended family." I was amongst that list of arguments, and I remember one really bad one where I shouted at him that I hated his guts. It took a long time, and lots of ups and downs before I decided that I did, in fact, like him. Then, I began to love him.
When my youngest son was born, whose middle name was given him to be named after Pop, I realized how deeply I did love Pop, and that he was a good dad to me and an even better grandfather to my children. He had become my dad, and my husband's too- who didn't have any kind of good or decent dad to have a relationship with of his own. When Matthew was born and airlifted to St. Louis Children's Hospital, we were told to say our goodbyes... I was stuck in the hospital, and Rob had two little ones at home to tend to, plus college classes to attend and deal with. Pop went to the Children's hospital and spent the day; he took lots of Polaroids of Matthew, and held his little hand and talked to him. He came to the hospital where I was and shared the pictures with me and told me all about my little man. He knew that I was so afraid Matthew would die and not have any family to be with him and be all alone. He knew that this would mean a lot to me, but I don't think he will ever know how much it meant to me.
As my kids have grown up, he has been the only grandpa they have known. He has tried to be at baseball, volleyball, and soccer games, concerts, awards, and a million other activities to cheer for his grandchildren. He has been their "pa-pa" and loved them, disciplined them, spoiled them...
He has supported Rob and I, even when he probably didn't approve of all the "little things" or the way we handled situations, finances, etc. He has helped us, when he could, with financial needs- bought us food, taken us out for dinner, golfed with Rob and the boys, and a million other things. He has cheered for us & been there when no one else did- supported us going through with college, being teachers, moving away (twice).
I could go on and on, but I'll stop. Pop may not be the dad that "brought me into this world," but I am his daughter nonetheless. He chose to be my dad, even though I was probably obnoxious to him more than I ever should have been. That speaks volumes about the man. Anybody can father a child into this world, but it takes a special someone to say, "I'll be a dad to these two already half grown/almost completely grown girls"- especially when he's lived with them and knows their faults... That's what he did for my sister and me.
Thanks Pop for being our dad!!!!!!!!!!
Happy Fathers' Day!
