my dad only came into my life when i was 11 years old, when he started dating my mom. and right away i knew that he was different than all my moms other past boyfriends. over the course of the next 11 years he didn't just feel like "the guy my mom is dating," but he felt like my dad. and he was.
after some very complicated years-long drama between the family, my mom and him split. a couple times, but this time for good. and as much as my mom hated (and still probably hates) my decision, i still chose to stay with Sherwin. he was more of a parent to me than my mother ever was, even if we didn't see eye to eye on everything. he bought tickets for us to go to metal shows together, and taught me taekwondo for free, and we watched every single Seahawk game and 90s stoner comedy together. but most importantly, he loved me. which was all i could really ask for.
i don't really know how i'm supposed to live in a world without his heavy laughter or cheesy dad jokes, without seeing his oil-stained sneakers at the bottom of the stairs. but i suppose i'll have to figure it out. i'm sure he wouldn't want me to mope around all sad and stuff. and i take his jacket with me everywhere, so he's never truly gone.
