As I wake up on this Father’s Day morning, missing my own father, I am also incredibly grateful to have a mother who was not only willing to step into both roles, but was also fully capable. Also, for my own brother who is able to be a great father without having that role model while growing up. Seeing him with my niece makes me proud.
Over the years, I’ve had to defend the single parent household. In school, we were often taught that kids from single parent households grow up and become flunkies in life. They don’t have a positive support system and they can’t possibly become normal humans. In fact, in my Catholic elementary school days, the handful of kids in the school with divorced parents were part of a group called Rainbows. Each month we’d spend one lunch period together and learn about what divorce means and how our lives would be impacted. I don’t remember a single lesson from that group. The only thing I remember is being incredibly embarrassed to be a part of it.
My mother worked hard. She went without. She put up with twin fights and teenage girl tantrums. She gave driving lessons. She supported twice as much and loved twice as hard. And when money was tight or times were hard, I never knew because she never burdened us with the information.
Sure, I missed my dad, but not a day went by that I didn’t know I was loved and that no matter what, my mother would be there for me. Her support saw me through my move to Nashville, my late return to college and my job search that followed. Her support went beyond the occasional financial support – she smoothly handled my many stressed out phone calls.
My mother also gave me my love for music. I always joke that I was raised in radio stations and have memories of running to the music library to pick out songs for the DJ to play. Sick days and doctor visits were my favorite for that reason. I was lucky to have a mother that was able to share her work with us. To this day, I remain passionate about radio and music – it fueled my move to Nashville.
My mother gave me a strong sense of self. She encouraged and still encourages me to be myself. She gave me a firm foundation that women can be and are strong and she taught me not to fear that strength, but rather to embrace it. 
But the most important thing my mother gave me was freedom … the freedom to explore and express my creativity. She gave me the pen and paper or the paint and the brush, but she gave it to me openly to find my own outlet. She proudly hung my art in her home (she still does) and she listened to my songs, even though they fit into a genre she does not care for.
Sometimes, I wonder what it might have been like to have both a mom and a dad. I think of the family vacations and the nights around the dinner table. I rewrite the history of high school prom and graduation. I imagine he’d been there when I finally graduated college. Or when my brother got married and my niece was born. I dream about a future where he walks me down the aisle and hears the laughter of my future children.
While this isn’t nor will it be the case, one thing is certain. I missed out on nothing and am looking forward to the future where my mother IS there for all it and the three of us, my mother, my brother and myself, are together as the perfectly normal family unit we were and are.
