After I got married, I had a hard time parting with my maiden name. I don’t think anyone prepares ladies for exchanging a part of their identity for a brand-new name; it’s such a strange sensation to realize you won’t be addressed by this name that you’ve carried with you all your life. I also LOVE my maiden name. My family took on the identity of the “Bears”, a shortened version of our last name and my mom’s pet name for my dad. I can’t think of anyone with a more appropriate nickname and I’m so glad he shares it with our whole family.
You see, my dad is strong but kind, never one to thrive on confrontation. As kids, my dad would say “the only thing worse than a mad kid is a happy kid,” because that’s when my siblings and I would get into the most “trouble.” There is one memory that stands out to me that’s the perfect representation of this: my sister and I shared a room, and my brother came into our room to play “basketball.” We used a small rubber ball and the “basket” was just above the door frame leading into the bathroom. We were jumping on and off the beds, running around the room shooting hoops, when someone (pretty sure it was Dan, but I’m no snitch) attempted a shot that shattered the light bulb in the overhead fan/light fixture. We all froze in place instantly, unsure what our next move should be. I’m sure the deafening silence made its way into our parents’ room next door because my dad was soon standing in the doorway scanning the room for damage. He took one look at the light fixture and then at our faces, probably hoping for some sense of shame or remorse. We must’ve been hopped up on sugar and fun because I remember trying to hold in my laughter (a serious case of the church laughs, you know when you’re trying SO hard not to laugh that the situation becomes even funnier). Well, the hilarity spread to my dad because he got a smirk on his face that he could not kick. We ALL erupted in a fit of giggles and we could see that my dad was mad at himself for giving into us. I’m sure we were punished somehow, but that part of my memory is overshadowed by all the laughter that ensued.
Both my mom and dad have become our friends as adults, typically the first we call for advice, a shoulder to cry on, and our supports in faith. My dad became Catholic as a young adult, and his faith is among the strongest I’ve witnessed. He serves as the priest of our family, and leads us in his daily devotion to his faith. Faith doesn’t always require a loud presence to lead by example; my dad is a quiet-natured person, not to be mistaken for meekness.
His humor follows suit – often his remarks are softly muttered, requiring some focus and attentive listening to really catch the funny. The tell-tale sign is that little smirk on his face; the same one he gave us when we were being “happy kids.”
To my Daddy (something I’ll never stop saying no matter how old I get) and our Papi – thank you for giving us many laughs, your leadership in faith, and an ever-attentive presence in our family. We love you SO much! Happy Father’s Day!
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Of course, this post is also dedicated to the other Daddy in my life, Mitch! Over the past six months, I have had a first-row seat to witnessing the man in my life grow into fatherhood. It’s not an easy journey, that’s for sure, but he has been eager to learn and his love for Regan is evident every day when he gets home from work. He scoops her up and holds her up against his chest, and she babbles on, telling her Daddy about her adventures that day. They both light up with smiles like I’ve never seen.
I’ll never forget Mitch’s reaction when we found out about Regan’s diagnosis. It was almost like he thought ‘Down syndrome? No big deal.’ His emotional breakdown came after her heart condition was discovered and we knew she would need surgery within her first six months. He had all the confidence in the world we could handle any learning and cognitive disability, but the heart condition was something that would be beyond our control. I am so grateful he could be strong and share my faith that we would take each step together, and lean on each other and our faith to get through.
To Mitch – thank you for being patient with me as we both navigate our newest roles as parents. Thank you for understanding (or at least pretending to understand) when I’m exhausted at 8PM every day. Thank you for your daily affirmations of love and appreciation. Thank you for having more room in your heart to love our precious girl, and thank you for your strength when I am weak.
Happy Father’s Day to Mitch, Daddy/Papi and all the daddies. Our world would be incomplete without y’all.
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