He is my Dad. Plain and Simple.

Today, I took my Dad to the doctor. 

An Oncologist.

He wasn't worried and neither was I.  We both know that God is in control and "He's got this".

My father is 83 years old.  He has difficulty walking and can't walk for more than a couple of minutes before the pain is too great and he needs to stop.  There were no wheel chairs available for him at the VA hospital, so I was his support.  He wrapped his arm around me and mine was wrapped around him. 

He wanted me to join him while talking with the doctor and I was able to ensure that he understood the complicated information about his treatment options.  We exchanged a smile as we learned he would not need chemotherapy.  While leaving the doctor's office he stopped in the door way, put his arm around me and turned to the doctor.  I thought he had one last question, but he didn't.  He wanted to remind the doctor that I was his daughter and he bragged about my working towards my black belt.  I looked up at him, feeling like a charmed child, and choked back a tear while he spoke.  My Dad is proud of me.  Not just for this, but for many things.  He tells me so and his words are precious.

While walking back to the car, we needed to stop many times.   For a while, I walked in front of him as he used my shoulders to lean on.  We joked that I am nearly as short as his walker that he forgot at home.  His laughter made him have to stop, but not from the pain. 

Afterwards, we enjoyed a late breakfast at Cracker Barrel.  We took a few moments outside among the stream of rocking chairs.  We sat in silence, but much was said.  I love him and he loves me.  I wanted to get a picture of us together and I think this speaks for itself....

When we arrived back to his house and I was preparing to leave to return home, he got up from his comfortable chair and walked over to me.  I knew that wasn't easy for him.  He hugged me tightly and I knew how much he appreciated my time I gave to him today.

My father is 83.  I don't know how many more times I will get to take care of him again like today.  I'm hoping hundreds more!  I'm praying I get to bake him his favorite chocolate cake or apple pie for his birthday next month and many more to come.  I'm hoping he gets to see me at my black belt test in another year or two.  I'm looking forward to him seeing my son graduate high school in 5 years.  The grip I have on hope is tight and I trust in the Lord for all of His blessings.

But, here is the thing.  He is not my biological father.  My biological father has not been in my life for over 11 years.  This is Will.  Some would refer to him as my step-father.  Our relationship has been to hell and back.  None of that matters.  We have moved past that.  

He loves me and I love him. 

He has helped me through some of the worst times of my life and he has been there for me for all the best....like when he proudly walked me down the aisle at my wedding when my bio-father refused to come.  

And, when my son was born, he was there to celebrate with us when my bio-father wasn't interested.

He is my Dad.  Plain and simple.

I love him and he loves me.  

He is my Dad and I am his daughter.