I have been blessed by being loved by 3 dads.

My first dad gave life to my flesh. I didn’t know him - he died when I was 6 weeks old. My mom said he was crazy about me and my older brother and sister. She said that even after a long day at work, he would come in a tickle my belly and spend the rest of the evening taking care of me. I don’t remember him, but I always knew he loved me by what my mom and other family members told me about him. He loved me and cared for me much during that short, 6-week time frame before God took him home.

My second dad married my mom when I was a year old. He chose me as his son, and I chose him as my dad. This is special to me because Paul uses the term “Huiosethia” (which literally means “to place a son”) in 5 of his epistles to say that we, as Gentiles, are “adopted” by God. And Paul, being a Roman citizen, also knew that Romans could legally disown their own “flesh and blood” children, but if a child was chosen and adopted, the family could never legally disown the adopted child.

I have very warm memories as a child about my 2^nd dad. Long, warm hugs when he came home from work every day probably stand out the most. Whenever it was time for him to come home, as soon as I heard the door open, I ran to him excitedly, yelling “daddy!” and jumping up and down until he picked me up and gave me a long, warm hug. Then one day he came home early, and when I noticed it was him, I ran like I normally do, but stopped when I saw my mom wrap her arms around him and he started crying. I then learned that he lost his dad that day. I now know what he felt that day.

Almost 20 years ago, my second dad was diagnosed with cancer in one of the lymph nodes in his neck. I was in the Navy when I learned of the cancer, and the Navy let me come home for 30 days to be with family during that time. As it turns out, the surgery to remove the lymph node was schedule the day after I was to be back to duty. I’ll never forget sitting at the airport with him. We didn’t know what to say to each other. Then, when they called my group to be seated, we both stood up, and I got another long, warm hug while we both broke down crying. That was the second hardest goodbye of my life.

Dad endured the surgery and proceeding radiation treatments, all the while he never complained. Back then, the radiation was more of a bombardment over the entire area, not like the precise “laser-like” precision of today. Over time, the damage from the radiation became evident, destroying the nerves and blood vessels on the left side of his neck, which affected his left arm, eventually becoming numb. The radiation also damaged his throat, and made it difficult to swallow and thus each time he ate, it was very strenuous, often choking badly. Since the blood vessels were damages, any type of healing to his mouth or neck was also extremely problematic.

As a result of the problematic healing, he had a bad tooth that needed to be extracted. So he had it extracted, but that caused a chain of events that would make his difficult life even worse. He eventually had to have a part of his jaw bone removed and micro-surgery to stop the snowball effect caused from his inability to not heal. So these last 2 years he had to feed himself through a PEG tube that went directly into his stomach. He couldn’t talk anymore, but he could still communicate and was very clear of mind. Due to his difficult airway, he started aspirating too often over the last 6 months. It eventually caused him to be hospitalized for pneumonia starting last December, and he spent all but about 7 days in Intensive Care, almost the entire time on a ventilator.

On February 2, 2010, the ICU called me stating that he was losing blood into his lungs and they needed permission for a blood transfusion. I asked how he was doing, and they said he had a rough night. I decided to go and get my mom and visit him. We got to the hospital a little after noon, and I walked in and asked him if he was feeling badly, he nodded yes. I grabbed his hand, and he was very weak. I told him that they were going to give him a blood transfusion and he vehemently shook his head, “No!” He was ready to go home. The doctor came in later that afternoon, and asked my dad if he wanted to remove the ventilator, my dad immediately nodded, “Yes”. My dad went to be with my 3^rd dad 30 minutes later. Even though my second dad was weak and tired, he continually looked upwards towards Heaven. He never closed his eyes, so I closed them for him when he passed. Even though I had prepared myself for this moment, it hurt more than I imagined.

Through all this, he still never complained. Not once.

My second dad had a lot of the same attributes as my third dad. My third dad is my Heavenly Father. You see, He also chose me and loves me, even before the foundation of the world. And I chose Him and love Him.

And someday, I will see all 3 of my dads, in Heaven.

Do you know Christ as your Savior? If not, please contact me.