That was also when I found out that my father and I are not blood relatives.
Mom and I were on the way to an appointment I had (either an endocrinology one in Indy or a nephrology one in Louisville, I can't recall, I just know that I got to skip school which was a win in my book) when she told me the news. Shock and numbness were really the only things that I felt at the time, until a little while later I had her pull over because it was finally setting in and making me feel sick.
Dad and I had very different personalities back then; him restrained and aloof, where I was open and uninhibited with how I felt, both of us products of our upbringing. This caused us to butt heads often and, as much as I hate to admit it, really made me question if he loved me as much as he loved my brother and sister, or if he even loved me at all. And I still sometimes hate myself for thinking that.
So that's why he treats me differently from Jonah and Grace was a thought that stuck with me for a long time, even though it wasn't the truth.
Whether by the grace of God or the fact that we both just wised up, things changed. Dad learned to be more open and affectionate and I learned how to pick up on his sarcastic humor (a feat I finally perfected at 18) and have finally developed his thick skin. Now, he's probably one of my favorite people on this weird and occasionally wonderful planet, if not tied with my little sister and mom at number one.
Over the years Mom's told me more about her story and how she ended up pregnant with me, and after hearing it I don't think I could ever say "thank you" enough that God decided to give my old man the chance to be a part of our lives (not to mention getting two siblings out of it).
Dad, I know I've said this a lot before, but you are definitely one of the best things to happen to Mom and me. Thank you for being so good to her and being someone who's actually worthy of her love, and thank you for loving me. I'm so sorry I ever thought you didn't.
