Edit Desk: Thank you, Dad

Growing up, I experienced what, at the time, felt like an unconventional childhood. My parents divorced when I was 7 amid the 2008 financial crisis, when my dad lost his job. Soon after, he moved across the country to find work that paid enough to keep our house located in an affluent area of Connecticut.

For seven years, my dad hopped around to various places — from Montana to Oregon to Pennsylvania. While some jobs were closer than others, it always felt like he was a world away.

He visited when he could, but he could no longer tuck me in at night. He missed several years worth of first days of school, recitals and sporting events. The physical distance naturally evolved into emotional distance, but I never stopped longing for him to walk through the door at night after a long day of work, just in time for dinner.

While my parents divorce did not come as a surprise, some might say my home life remained turbulent. My mother continued to struggle with her mental health and substance abuse. As the years went by, I gradually came to understand the reality of the situation. While I deeply care for my mom, I could never rely on her to be there for me, and I just wanted my dad to come home.

To make a long story short, as I’m sure many can relate in one way or another, my family life was not sunshine and rainbows. It was complicated and nuanced.

Despite being hundreds, sometimes thousands of miles away, my dad never missed an opportunity to ask me how my day was, or tell me he loved and missed me. I knew he meant it, but spending my childhood catching up over Skype or a landline would never be the same as having him there to witness it in person.

When I was 14, my dad was able to work from home and moved back to my hometown in Connecticut. He rented out a garage and flipped it into a one bedroom cottage, similar to a standard, overpriced studio apartment in New York City.

All of sudden, my dad was home. However, for so long I had been caught between conflicting feelings of frustration and sympathy. I was upset that he couldn’t find work closer to home, but every time he was around, I could pick up on his own sadness. We were both disappointed. Though I pitied myself, it only made me feel worse knowing this was never how he pictured his family would turn out.

Though he was close by, so much time was lost, and too many memories were subjected to virtual recounts, where all the intricacies of life are too easily forgotten.

My siblings and I were no longer 7, 10 and 13. We had all lost friends and made new ones, discovered new hobbies, listened to different music, the list could go on. My dad kept up with us as much as possible, but for me, as a child, there was always going to be a lifetime’s worth to catch up on.

But with a home life that offered me little support, I decided to make the most of what I could get. To my surprise, this decision changed my life.

Everytime I had a hard day at school, I’d ask my dad to pick me up. His work day wouldn’t be over, but he’d drop everything and wait in the obnoxiously long pick-up line until I got out of last period. We’d grab a coffee and mindlessly drive around town, catching up on all the years that were lost. It became an almost daily routine.

I’d play all my favorite songs for him, tell him about my friends and what I was learning in school. He’d ask me questions about my life and give me advice when I needed it. But what was most impactful sounds so incredibly simple — he listened to me.

For the first time in my life, I felt heard and understood. Even though in the past he was always just a call away, I was so young when he moved, and the conversations we had on the phone always made him feel one step too far from reality. It just wasn’t the same.

That said, in a lot of ways, the environment I grew up in also led me to lack confidence and doubt not only my intelligence but my validity as a human being. But my dad never stopped trying to get me to see my worth.

When I was a kid, I couldn’t imagine myself going to college, much less picture myself receiving a diploma in just a few weeks. As that day approaches, I’ve been reflecting on my journey into adulthood and the accomplishments I’ve achieved in the past four years.

I did it on my own accord — I filled out the college applications, I studied for the tests, and I built a life that I am grateful to be living — but my dad is the person who helped me believe I was capable of it.

I will never be able to go back in time and relive those first days of school, the recitals and the sporting events with him. I think we both wish we could. But I was able to let it go, because what mattered more than any of that is he never once gave up on me.

As I move into the next chapter in my life, I cherish the years I got to spend with my dad close by. My childhood wasn’t perfect, but there’s no such thing. I will never stop being grateful to have someone like him in my life —  whether he was over the phone or down the road — he always believed in me. No thank you will ever be enough — but thank you, Dad.