Josh Magill and his brother don’t share the same biological father. But they share the perfect role model—the guy they both call “dad”.
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Most of us have some sort of “sob story” we can tell people about our lives. You know the story I’m talking about, the one that sparked character in your life, the story that made you who you are? Sometimes those life stories don’t have happy endings…but mine does.
My story, in short, is that my biological parents had marital problems—fought and made up, then fought again and ended up divorced. I was four-years-old and didn’t understand what was going on and the specifics around what actually happened have been debated many times over the years, but are now somewhat silenced and forgotten.
But the story I want to share isn’t about that. The real story is what happened next.
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At 25 years old, my mother probably had no idea how she was going to make a living and raise two children—me at four and by little sister at two—by herself. Well, again, the short story.
Mom met an old friend she had known since her childhood days, they hit it off romantically, and he loved her and us kids more than he did himself. His name is Joe.
Four and a half months after my fifth birthday, my mother and Joe had a wedding. Yep, they got hitched and my mother was happy again. We became a family and even added my younger brother to the mix.
L-R: My younger sister Christina, Me, and my younger brother Joe.
Life was good.
I tell you all this because Joe became my dad. You always have your “father,” whose name is on your birth certificate, but a “dad” is different. A dad teaches you about life, love and family.
He tells you about fairness, shows you the value of a dollar and the satisfaction of hard work. A dad teaches you to respect women and the elderly. He will always be there for you no matter where you are or what you’ve done.
Joe did that for me.
Though I was lost as a young boy, not knowing my place in life because of the situation I was in having a “father” and a “dad.” I called Joe “dad” because it seemed right and I lived in his house and ate the food at his table. Though we didn’t talk much about intimate things, I was learning from Joe how to be a respectable person.
My relationship with my biological father was different, even awkward to the point that I couldn’t call him “dad” though some adult relatives had urged me to do so. I wanted to call him by his first name, but that didn’t seem right either….so I didn’t call him anything. Often during the few times I saw him over the next thirteen years I would wait until he looked toward me to speak to him or find other ways to get his attention before speaking to him. Away from him, I used his first name as if he was an estranged uncle.
When I was 17, my younger sister and I once again clung to our mother at a time when fatherhood had become the top issue in our lives. We stood before a judge and made the decision to become adopted children to Joe. What better way to tell our dad we love him, respect him and are so appreciative of his loving care for us when we had no stable father figure than to officially take his last name?
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The most beautiful way to show one’s dad you respect him is to honor his teachings and put forth the effort in your own life that your dad did in his life. My dad is a respectable man of his word who cherishes and provides for his family and someone who will always help others before himself. I love my dad and want to show him that I did listen as a young boy.
When I was given the news that I was going to be the father of our first child, I froze. Could I be a good father? The birth came and I began to feel the burdens and pressures of a father. But as I pondered the future, I remembered the past. I had to become more than a father to my baby boy. I needed to be a dad. I needed to be passionate about my son’s life for him.
So it was not instinct, but the training of my dad that kicked in when my wife awoke frantic. It was early in the morning, two months before the due date of our first child’s birth. I sprang into action, calling the nurse, and then speeding my wife to the hospital, passing through every red light.
It was as I sat crumpled in my pajamas on the floor of the hospital hallway that the doctor explained to me how I had saved the life of both my wife and son. The tears flowed freely as I cried there early in the morning, but it is only now that I understand how much my parent’s teachings, especially the guidance of Joe, made such a moment happy, rather than tragic. I had learned urgency, compassion, and to think about others from my parents.
Joe has been a great role model during my life of what a dad should be, and I hope to be half the dad he has been to me during the last 33 years. Family and parenthood have become unimportant issues in today’s society. That is wrong and must change. Many today don’t communicate with family or plan to have a family of their own. That is a shame.
The people who will and should always love you more than anyone else is family. Parents should be willing to put their lives on the line for their children. I had two more children after that first son – a daughter and another son. I would do anything for them and their beautiful mother.
Thinking about my dad, I may not remember how to fix a lawn mower like he showed me many times or the best way to build a shed, but I do believe I can do a good job as a father. His guidance for me continues today for all his children, such as when they are having a rough time in their marriage, how to handle a delicate situation with their children, or even what to do about a job.
Examples of great people are all around us. Sometimes they are people we know very well, but don’t understand or recognize their greatness. Parents – mom and dad – should be the greatest examples we have.
That younger brother that we “added to the mix” recently got married. At his wedding reception, I reminded him of the great parents we had growing up and to ponder how he should now be as a future husband and father, using our dad as his example. I shared how you don’t have to be perfect, but you have to strive for your best or it won’t matter.
My brother’s eyes twinkled when he looked across the room at Joe—his biological father—his face tightened slightly. I saw his effort to hold back tears on this significant day in his life.
Crying publically didn’t happen much for the men in our family, so we quickly hugged and walked away, sealing a moment of quiet appreciation for our parents, but especially our greatest example of a husband and father we could have ever known—our Dad.
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Originally published on The Magill Review
Thank you Mike.
Kimunya, I’m lucky to have had a father figure in my life that taught me how to me a good man. I can’t imagine what it would be like not to have that. You make a great point that we can choose to be good men and fathers no matter what our childhood deals us.
You are right about choice. As you can see from my blog address, we can all lead by choice. It is tough, and I think that is why so many of us fail. We bail out at the most critical time. Thank you for sharing with us.
What an experience Josh, and that you are playing the important role of paying forward the love Joe extended to you. There are also some men like myself who didn’t really get the opportunity to have a dad, but still by God’s grace made it. I have chosen to be a dad to our kids, and written a book in the process. “Down But Not Out: Becoming a Significant Leader at Home” is my story about grappling with my identity, struggling to create a vision, overcoming challenges and learning to be a dad.
Josh, it cuts both ways: your dad was lucky to have you as his son.
Very moving essay. Thank you.