For My Father and Mother

When I was young, I don't exactly remember how old, my sperm donor went to prison. My mother telling me was the last thing I really remember about him; vividly anyway. He wrote me a few times, sent me some drawings and the typical "dad" things he thought he should say. I even remember writing him back a few times, but once the letters stopped he was gone. Truly, out of my life forever. I even wrote a poem about it in my book, Dear World. It was one of the first poems I knew for sure was going in that book.

It's funny how some things don't affect you until you're older. As a child, I had this amazing man I called dad. He taught me to ride a bike, played video games with me, spent time doing things with me that dads were supposed to do with their children. Never once did I ever think; I can't depend on my dad. He was my rock, my world. And to a child who had an unreliable father for five years having this new thing was amazing. I loved every minute of the man I got to call dad.

Let's not lie, I hated him at first. I mean what kid doesn't strongly dislike the person their parent is dating, or marrying. I'm sure I put him through the ringer with my attitude and bratty ways, but he stuck by my mom and he stuck by me. There was nothing I could do that he couldn't handle. Taking my questions on without batting an eye my dad CHOSE me. He chose to take on two young children and love us like his own. By the grace of God, my mom was able to find someone who loved her children as much as she did.

It wasn't until much later in life that the loss of my sperm donor hit me. I started to feel guilty, ashamed, and angry at him. There was a point when even just saying his name would make my blood boil. I got defensive anytime he was brought up; people would say things like; 'Oh, you mean your real dad.' or 'Isn't so-so your real dad?' These are the people that make my skin crawl. Yes, I have someone who is genetically tied to me who lost his chance at being my father. We have no ties, no connections because the man who raised me is my real dad.

When I was a young teenager, there were a lot of things I didn't understand. All I knew was that my heart hurt for the man who was supposed to want me. Instead, the man who ended up wanting me had nothing to do with my blood. It took a few years more to get that yes, my sperm donor left me, he had better things to do, but that didn't have to shape who I was. Just because he was an unreliable human doesn't mean they all are. Even though I had this amazing dad in my life, I still felt so empty all because of that one word, "blood". I felt that because my own flesh and blood didn't want me, no one should. Isn't it funny how none of this was in my young, child mind but my teenage one decided to suddenly think bad things?

My dad was there for all my school dances, my dad was there for all my accidents, my dad was there for all of my failures and all of my successes. He supports me, loves me, and has always ensured he did what was best. I guess what I'm trying to show is that even though, yes, I did get an amazing father, the loss of my blood hurt. It hurt until I learned to forgive him and all his wrong doings against me. It took many years to realize my anger and sorrow wasn't hurting him. Heck, he didn't even know how old I was or what I was doing in my life; why would he care about my anger after near ten years of no contact? I was only hurting myself and it was exhausting.


I figured it out with plenty of time to spare and I'm no longer hurting. I have the best father in the world, he loves me and I him very much. Not all people end up in a situation where they end up with a dad or a mom, but I was so lucky in this world I got both of my parents.

I have a mother who is so full of spunk and personality that I sometimes don't know what to do with her. She is stubborn, hard-headed, but also resilient and powerful. She found a way to support two children on her own and managed to find the most amazing man to raise those children. She got educated, she didn't let the hardness of the world knock her down because she knew she had to give us the best quality life she could.

I have a mom that would, I swear it sometimes feels like this, looks death in the face and laughs because she knows that where she's going next is going to be the most amazing place possible. She makes people feel loved and she makes them laugh even if it's not always the most appropriate time. My mom managed to turn her situation around and while all parents have crap moments, we're all alive aren't we?

I have a father who chose to take me in and love me. Who chose to be there when he didn't have to because that's how amazing of a man he is. A man who answers any question and always has an opinion, even if it makes no sense to the topic. He's caring and gentle but fiercely protective when his children are involved.

I have a father who, when my sister was born and I asked if I was still his little girl, he told me I would always be his first little girl. Who loved me no more, and no less, than the baby sister I have. Who treats the three of us equally as if he were our flesh and blood.

I have parents that, through bad and good, have always given their children the best they can because they are both amazing people. I've learned a lot from my parents, and while I still have people tell me 'that's not your real father' it just doesn't hurt anymore. In my heart he is going to always be my real father. Because let me tell you, blood doesn't make you a real parent, it just makes you a biological one. I just hope that if I ever decide to have kids, I come out half as amazing as my parents who have sacrificed so much for my siblings and I.