My biological father is nothing more then that... a sperm donor. He was an abusive drunk that was hauled away when I was three. A year or two later he sent my brother Rick a birthday gift with my name on it. How could he forget MY birthday? I was born on his birthday *sigh* When I was 16 I tracked him down without telling my mother where he was at (so she could not get him for his 13 years back child support on three kids) so I could talk to him. What he had to say was pretty much NOTHING. I gave up on him, change my last name to my Grandfathers name (because he was the last in his line with three girls) and carried on my life fatherless. When I was 28 my Grandmother (his mom) died and my father went to her funeral....again, he had little or nothing to say. I made it a point to let the family know if he wanted ANYTHING to do with me HE had to call. I got calls from family to go to parties, reunions, and the like, but HE never called... I'll be 36 tomorrow and still have not gotten that call...
In that time my mother was single for much of it, though she did date a few times. He boyfriends were just that...boyfriends. They didn't do much with me, or even talk with me for what mattered. One of them she even married, he was likely one of the best of them, though still he was far from a father, and I never once even considered calling him "dad". For the most part, I never even really liked him. My dislike was not a matter of him taking away my mother or whatever Freudian crap people may like to impose on the matter, I just didn't like the guy as a human. *shrug*
Then she met Norm, her current husband. I never disliked him, I never really knew him... when they got together I was grown with my own busy twenty-something life and rarely even talked to her in that point of my life. To me, he was just some other boyfriend of my mothers...When I moved down here to Tennessee I talked to them even less and didn't think much about it one way or the other... but a few years later (last year) they moved down here, just down the street in fact. With them so close I came down often and hung out. That was when I actually got to talk to him. I actually liked him, heh, he was (and is) a gruff old bastard with a sense of humor that can often be taken as offensive, but we had things to talk about, things in common, and at times, we often did things for each other, and more importantly WITH each other. This has been the first time in my life I've ever had a 'father figure' in my life that was actually IN my life... I'm not sure how to take that sometimes, as I've never had it before...
Over the last few months, while Cyndi and I built our home, he and I did two things... first, we grew apart in some ways, as I would have to put my home ahead of the things he and my mother wanted/needed. Though, in another way, we grew closer. I would often take a break from working on the house and go over to their house. I'd leave Perrin inside while I'd site on the porch with him and talk. And sometimes, when I needed to climb a latter or use the chainsaw he'd come over and make sure I did not kill myself. More and more like a father this man has become, and still I'm not sure how to take it, as I've never had it before...
And even more recently, when I was likely in the greatest need in my life, he was there with sympathy, respect, kindness. No gruff jokes, no cynicism, only a pat on the back, a hug, and the words, "Chris, it'll be OK".
Norm, when you read this looking over Mom's shoulder tonight, know that you are the closest thing I've EVER had to a father, and while I'm not sure how to take that, as I've never had it before... Know that it's true, and I am grateful that you are a part of my life.
Many thanks from your son,