What makes a father? Speaking biologically it’s the simple act of genetic contribution. Speaking as a woman whose male genetic contributor bailed, never to be heard from again, it’s much, much more than that.

A father is the man who drives for two days to take his family on vacation. He’s the man who coaches little league soccer. He’s the one who attends countless plays and shuttles kids to rehearsals, practices, and day camps (not to mention paying for all those activities). A father is the man who makes silly jokes and shares with his child Monty Python, the Beatles, and Star Wars. He’s the guy who lets you push the button on the coffee grinder. A father teaches you all about the world around you. He answers your questions. A father teaches you who you are. He takes care of and loves your mother. And he takes care of you and loves you.

My father is not biologically connected. My father chose me. He chose to be a permanent part of my life when I was three years old (and no doubt, a holy terror). And unlike my genetic contributor he has stuck around. He has been there for me, always. He’s smart, hard working, and incredibly giving. I love him. And I am ever grateful that he’s my father.

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Happy Father’s Day, Jay. I love you.

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