How I Met My Father–Pt. 2

(If this is your first visit: please start here: How I Met My Father Pt. 1)

It was there, plain as day. I couldn’t believe it.

“John Stephens”

I did not immediately say anything to my mom. But I am pretty sure she knew I saw.

I went to my room and laid in my bed. I said his name in my head over and over again. and again. and again.

This explained SO much. It explained why I felt different. It explained why I felt less than satisfactory. Why I felt like I wasn’t as loved by my dad as my friends dads loved them. Why I did not have a normal relationship with my dad. Why my younger brother got away with everything under the sun and I got beat. I remember a lot of times being shoved on the floor, into walls, smacked, etc. I always wondered WHY me? He was my dad, didn’t he love me?

The truth is, he never was my “dad”. He was just a father. Someone that was my mom’s other half. There to provide for our family and to take the dad role.

When I was about 10 or 11, I remember my mom finally explaining things to me. Explaining that he wasn’t my real dad but my dad none the less. He loved me and wanted to be tied to me forever. He wanted me to not be different from them so they started the proceedings for him to adopt me and legally be my dad. I would then officially have his last name instead of my moms maiden last name. I remember having social workers come to our house to make sure that I had my own room, my own things, and that we had a good home. I remember them taking me into my room alone and asking me questions about my parents. And I told them all the good things. I did have good things in my childhood that involved my dad.

Even when I had the chance, I never said the bad things.

We went finally went to court sometime in November. He pledged to take care of me and love me and treat me as his own. And it became official right in front of my eyes. I became his daughter and that empty ‘father’s name’ line on my birth certificate now had the ability to be filled with a name. Papers where signed, filed, stamped.

I remember going out to lunch that day after the court hearing for a celebratory meal. We where an official family after all. At that meal my dad gave me a gold bracelet with my name engraved on it and a heart stamped out of it. On the back was engraved “Love, Daddy”. I cried and we hugged. I was happy.

Life continued as normal. Nothing changed.

But I never forgot.

You can find the rest of this story by clicking:
How I Met My Father Pt. 1
How I Met My Father Pt. 3