To the only man who has ever been a true Father to me.
To the man who gave me advice about guys and was the first one to put an arm around my shoulder when things didn’t go as I had hoped. To the man who protected me from my Mom when I pulled her car up against a concrete post and did 2k worth of damage. To the man who makes the best apple pancakes you’ve ever had, and can grill like it’s his job. To the man who took me to see Terminator 2 and didn’t make fun of me when I cried at the end. (Hey, cut a girl some slack. It was SAD, dammit!) To the man who wouldn’t put up with my teenage angst and wouldn’t let me get away with anything. To the man who has supported me, no matter what crazy idea I’ve come up with (like say, becoming a medic).
The man who loves my children like they are his own biological grandchildren. My kids worship the ground he walks on, and nine times out of ten prefer to talk to over even my Mom. To the man who spoils them on a level I can’t even comprehend, and at the same time will reign them in the very second they show a sign of being disrespectful or unappreciative.
To the man who loves my Mom like she’s the only woman he’s ever laid eyes on. The one who makes her feel like a queen, every day. Even after 19 years. The one who has not just put up with, but has loved her kids. And her kids kids. The one who made her the happiest woman on the planet, one year ago today.
Happy Father’s Day, Brian. We love you. Thank you for loving us like we were your own.