My stepdad, Jack, raised me, but I love both my dads. On my 21st birthday, Jack gave me a new car; my biological dad gave me gift cards and looked hurt. Later, he asked to borrow the car because his had broken down. I offered to help him rent one instead, but a week later, the car went missing — and he’d taken it. When we confronted him, he said, “I just wanted to matter again.” That broke my heart.
Jack never judged him, only made sure I was okay. Eventually, my dad apologized, admitting pride had gotten in the way. I forgave him, and things slowly improved. Now, both my dads are part of my life — different men, both trying in their own ways. Love, I’ve learned, isn’t perfect, but it’s worth forgiving for.
