My mom’s vows were beautiful, heartfelt, and humorous but Victors vows were the ones that really touched me. I never had been one to cry during movies when something sad happens, but it was hard for me to try to fight back the tears of love. Tears of happiness. Tears of acceptance. He said to my mom “I vow to assist you in raising, guiding, and loving your daughter Tanner, which in a few moments will be my daughter too, as I have raised, guided, and loved my own children and which in a few moments will become your children as well.” To the average ear that might sound like a typical statement that a step father would say to his step daughter, but for me it meant more. Much more.
My biological dad was never really “present” mentally and he was not that supportive either. He and my mom split up when I was two due to a drinking problem he had. My mom gave him so many chances that were impossible to count, and she just couldn’t take it anymore. She wanted me to be in a safe, stable, and healthy household. Years had passed. He got sober. Then started again. His issue with alcohol became more pronounced when he married my stepmom Diane who also had a problem with alcohol. She was like a mean girl in your class that loved to bother you. Loved to talk down to you, and loved to make you feel bad about yourself. She would talk to me in tones as if I was illiterate and criticize every little thing I did, good or bad. Since my parents were split up I went to their different houses on different days, and my dad believed “It was daddy daughter time.” I was not allowed to talk to anyone on the phone. I was not allowed to have many friends over. I was not allowed to have any contact with my mom. I sent text after text to my mom saying how much I missed her when I was at his house, how they were rude to me, how they were mean to me. How much I wanted to run away and never go back his house. My amount of time that I spent at my dad’s house slowly declined from Tuesdays, Thursdays, and every other weekend to just the weekdays, and then no days at all. I called him on the phone when I was about thirteen and told him how I didn’t want to see him anymore, and all he said to me was “Have a nice life with Mom and Victor.” My mom still wishes that she took me out of that house sooner, but I did fix that situation by myself. Two years had passed of me not speaking to my dad. I tried to forget all the mental abuse that he and Diane had done to me, but it was hard to do that when I got letters saying how much he missed me and how much he wanted to make things right and go back to the “good ‘ol days.”
Each time the mail came I would get a fear. A fear that is almost impossible to explain. Every time I would see a letter with my name on it I would get scared when I found out it was from him. What does he say in the letter this time? I finally got the courage to write him a response letter, it said that the letters he sent me bothered me, made me feel uncomfortable, and I wanted them to stop. They didn’t stop. Each time a birthday would come around, or each time Christmas would come around I would get cards. He never got the picture, but there was one birthday when I didn’t get a single thing from him.
Early April 2011 was the month when I received the news that would change my life for ever. I was doing my homework when my mom called me down stairs to the living room, and she told me. She told me that my dad had died. I had no reaction when she told me, I guess she thought I was going to cry. I later found out that he died of cirrhosis of the liver. Then it hit me. When Victor was sitting next to me on the couch he told me “I’m here for you if you need or want to talk.” I realized something. He had been more of a father than my actual father had been to me. He had been the one to go to all of my softball games. He had been the one to be thrilled when I got on my schools golf team two years in a row. He had been the one to be one of the loudest people at my softball games screaming “GET ‘EM TANNER!” and then turn to my mom with a huge smile on his facing showing how proud he was of me and say “Thats my daughter.” He had been the one that was always there for everything I did and never at any point stopped or questioned his support for me. That made me thankful that I had him because I never felt that with my real dad. For a while I called him Victor, but it slowly progressed to Papa. Bringing me back to their wedding day.
Walking down the aisle, looking at all my future family members, looking at my actual family, and finally making it to the alter across from my soon to be step brother Bobby put everything into perspective. My mom and I were no longer going to be “Just the girls.” My mom and I were no longer going to have “Mother daughter time 24-7.” My mom and I were no longer “Mom and I” we will soon be something different. We will soon be “Mom, Step Dad, and I” and I couldn’t be more ecstatic about it.
The wedding started when I picked up my flute and played the traditional wedding march. My hands shaking. My hands slipping on the keys due to my palms getting sweaty and getting nervous. I would occasionally look up at my cousin Alaire who was holding my music for me, and that made me feel comfortable. Something about seeing someone from my immediate family made me feel at home when I was on the other side of the US in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Then there she was. My mom coming out of the doors with my Uncle giving her away. She came down the aisle and I stopped playing and everyone applauded me. Though it was a small wedding, the applause to me sounded as if I was headlining at Carnegie Hall in New York City. The wedding went on with the priest talking about how beautiful the day was. Then it was time for the rings. The time for me to hand Victors ring to my mom. The time for Bobby to hand my Mom’s ring to Victor. They said their I do’s to each other and it became official. I now had a Step Dad. I now had four new step siblings; Michael, Joey, Bobby, and Cathy. Most importantly I had gained a new set of people that I could turn to for support, and they would be more than glad to give it.
Every kid who has ever played any type of sport has always had that image of seeing their mom and dad on the side cheering you on with huge smiles on their faces. Screaming your name. Cheering your name. I now had that. My Papa was meant to be the CO-captain of the Tanner cheering squad. He was meant to stand next to my mom on the last hole at my golf matches fist pumping when I hit a great shot. He was meant to stand and sit next to my mom at softball games and go absolutely crazy when I got someone out. He was meant to be the one to see me grow up from birth, to 15, to graduating high school and further on. He was meant to be my dad. I was meant to be his daughter, and I’m awaiting the day the adoption papers we signed go through. When the day comes when I can stand in front of the judge and say that I want him to adopt me. The day when he can say officially that I am his daughter. The day when I can smile and say that he is my dad.
