Last night I watched my parents’ wedding video. It was a small wedding in their home led by a judge. Their nearest and dearest sang an-out-of-tune version of “dum-dum-da-dum. My permed mom donned a long white sweater dress. No flowers, nothing elaborate. It was just right.
Their wedding was even more special because my sisters and I were there for it. I don’t think I’ve shared this here yet, but my biological father left us when I was an infant, my sisters six and ten. And somehow this wonderful man, John, took in a very sad, frail woman and her three daughters. He married my mom on November 27, 1987 and he legally adopted us shortly thereafter. He is Dad. So though Father’s day is certainly a day we should all praise our Dads, really every day I thank my lucky stars for my Dad.
I love my Dad. Because he is as good as it gets. Because he drinks diet raspberry snapple by the case and he sends me post-it notes that say you are a pain. love ya. Because he taught me that golden retrievers make people (especially us) really frickin happy. Because he told the same tuck-in story every night and still made me treasure it. Because he makes me laugh daily and somehow manages to always have his arm around me when I’m about to cry. Because he loved us instantly and unconditionally.
I loved my Dad instantly and unconditionally, too.
In my parents 1987 wedding video Melanie asked me “Kim, do you wanna say something?”