What Makes a Father?
Any man can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a dad. -Unknown
For as long as I can remember my father, John Clark, never wanted to be in my life, but I still loved him because he was blood. My mom used to describe him as a handsome man with these beautiful blue eyes who was skinny and tall like a bean pole. The first time he ever broke my heart was when I was a child. I remember my mom’s friend babysitting me, when I was 5 years old, at her tiny cottage-like house. Suddenly, my mother came in crying—and it wasn’t from sadness or pain—it was from anger. My mother is a beautiful woman who has hair black as night, brown eyes like chocolate, a calm voice, and only about 5’6”, so seeing her cry was a knife in my heart.
“What’s wrong mommy,” little me asked.
She pulled me into a tight hug and said we needed to talk about my father. I was expecting to hear that he died or was in the hospital, but I didn’t expect my mother to tell me that he packed up the family he loved more, which included my step-monster and half-brother, and left the state, leaving me behind lonely and confused. Why did he leave me? Where did he go? Does he even love me? Will he ever come back? A child should never have to ask themselves if their parent loves them, but I did. I wanted nothing more than to cry and scream on my babysitter’s hard, wooden floor, but I didn’t. I held it in till I went to bed and I cried myself to sleep wondering if my father ever truly loved me. I eventually moved on from that heartbreak and thought that I would never have a father-daughter relationship like everyone else, but I longed and prayed for one every day.
Everything changed in 2010 when my mother, Stephanie Clark, asked if I wanted to see him because he had moved back to Tucson. He never called me or my mother in those years he was gone. I was thirteen with no real father figure in my life, so naturally I was excited and overjoyed that I was going to finally be loved by him. Things were great in the beginning. I felt proud to say that my father was back, and I wanted all my friends to meet him. All my mom every wanted for me was to grow up with a dad and I finally felt like I was going to get the father-daughter relationship I dreamed about. I would spend the night at his house on weekends and he would be working, but he would apologize by buying me whatever I wanted, which most of the time would be books instead of toys. I got to spend some of winter break with him along with the rest of his side of the family, we would laugh, play games, start a fire, and just make fun of one another. Things were simple and fun up until I started high school. I was excited for him to come to volleyball games and marching band competitions, but I got an excuse every single time.
“I am not feeling good,” he would text me.
“I work that night sweetheart” was the common excuse.
“My phone never went off” he would say if I called more than three times on game nights when my team already won.
That year, he broke my heart for the second time when I was a freshman in high school. Suddenly, he would not reply to texts or calls from both my mom and I. Naturally, I thought he left the state again, but my mom and I found out he was still in the state, he just wasn’t communicating with us anymore. I was hurt and the only way for me to get the anger out was to write him a letter stating my disappointment in him and my anger for him not being the father I needed. It took me a few days to write the letter—but once I did—it was like a weight lifted from my shoulders. Now what do I do? Do I send it? Do I store it away until the right moment? I eventually decided that I wanted to give this letter to him and at the time I didn’t really care if he offended about the language I used. After I dropped the letter off, I felt a million times better. On the day of my high school graduation I really didn’t expect John to show, but he did, and I was happy. After tossing our caps I got an awkward side hug and he stayed for about 15 minutes before he left without a goodbye.
The final time John broke my heart was the worst and I am still recovering to this day. He never really approved of my decision to join the U.S. Navy and unfortunately, I had to get his signature to leave for bootcamp. My recruiter told me that he had his mind set on not signing the paper, but she somehow got him to sign it. I left July 29, 2015 only two months after I graduated high school. I texted him asking if he could come up to Phoenix and yet again I the excuse, “I am working that day.” Two of my cousins and my half-brother on his side of the family took the time off work and showed up, but his work was more important than his oldest child leaving. That was the last straw for me. That day I no longer considered John Clark a father.
During the year 2013 my mom, Stephanie, informed me that she started dating a man by the name of Adam Brady again. Adam is a tall man who acts like a five-year-old, he always knows how to make my mom and I laugh, he is always covered in grease and oil from working on his truck, and most of all he is my dad. Around the time they started dating again was about the time I found out I had the opportunity to go to Europe. Adam helped my mom and I pay for this trip, he made sure I had everything I needed for this trip, he helped my mom raise me even though he had two daughters of his own, and he showed up to both my high school and boot camp graduations even though he didn’t have to. I remember thinking one day that he has done so much for me in such a short amount of time while still raising his other daughters, but it’s an act of congress for me to get John to answer a text.
My mom and I love to take drives up Mount Lemmon or just small road trips. Adam, even nowadays, will always ask if we want to take a drive. He includes me in whatever activity he likes. It didn’t take me long to figure out who loved me and who wanted to be there for me. I already considered Adam my dad, but I had no clue if he even wanted me to call him dad. Will he accept me? I kept thinking to myself that he wouldn’t want me because who wants a young girl whose own father didn’t want her? I finally worked up the courage and asked him Christmas of 2015, my first-time home since leaving for the Navy, and I will never forget how I felt when he told me, “You have always been my daughter.” I remember crying along with my mom, I am talking ugly crying here.
Adam has given me that father-daughter relationship I thought I would never get the chance to experience. He is my one and only dad in my eyes. Adam is a truck driver and he isn’t home a lot, but when he is it’s like he never left. When we talk on the phone, he constantly tells me that he is proud of me for going back to school and before we end our phones calls he always says “I love you my daughter” which always brings a small tear to my eyes.
In conclusion to this depressing and happy story, I figured out who really loved and who faked their love. I have not spoken with John since 2015 and that doesn’t bother me much anymore. I am I still upset that my own biological father wants nothing to do with me? Yes. Am I the luckiest girl in the world to have a dad like Adam? Hell yes. I learned that blood family will not always love you the way you deserve, but eventually someone will come along and show how you should be loved. My mom’s boyfriend is the best dad I could have ever asked for and I know he will be there to support me more than John ever has or will.
Kit-Kat 