Specifically my father. As a single mother who had her family ripped apart by the actions of my ex husband/father of my girls, our lives flipped upside down when we all had to move back into my parents home. They welcomed us all in, as if I had never left. They have always been this way. No matter the ups and downs we have, the disagreements, the constant struggle and heartache we deal with (from the girls’ dad) they are one step behind me. I say mainly my father because he has stepped up and done the most courageous and loving thing a man can do; be an ACTUAL father figure to these little babies when they NEED one.
The patience, the kindness, the sleepless nights, the hard work he has put in when I could not to my own children, his grandchildren, I could not pay back in a million years.
Hearing him say, “you, the girls, and your mother are what make me the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life.” I could cry writing this.
Not only is he their biggest supporter, he is mine. He always has been my advocate. He was the first person I told about a specific substance abuse, the only person to know to this day besides one other soul. And he helped me get off of it, alone. I could’ve died, but he helped me. This man, is what embodies what I someday hope to find in another man.
I made a post earlier about booking my first tattoo appointment in years; he of course was not pleased. My mother was supportive but made a comment I took personal, making me walk head down to my room, teary eyed. He came in, and said “I see you as my daughter, of course I don’t want you having tattoos. But you are a grown adult, and if this makes you feel empowered, more power to you. I support you and love you no matter what, I’ll get over it.” And I chuckled with tears down my face.
It’s the simple things. I’m grateful for my family. Always and forever.