I didn’t receive either of my two best Father’s Day gifts on Father’s Day. I got the first one on May 26, 1985 when my son was born. The second was the new daughter I received on January 19, 2024.
Given that almost 4 decades had lapsed between the arrival of those two gifts, you may have surmised that my daughter wasn’t delivered by an obstetrician in a maternity ward. In fact, she was delivered by a judge in a family law courtroom. My daughter became “my daughter” because a 47-year-old adult woman agreed to make me her father. As any adopted kid can tell you (and I am one), there’s something special about being chosen rather than just “had.”
When I got married 43 years ago, it was a union between me, a wonderful woman, and her four-year-old daughter – Kimi. For a number of years, Kimi’s biological father remained a part of her life. But after he remarried and had another daughter, his commitment to Kimi faded over time. By the time she had reached her forties, he had stopped calling, writing, or visiting – even on birthdays or holidays. That’s his loss, because she’s a wonderful woman and mother.
Throughout my marriage to Kimi’s mother, I tried to treat Kimi just as I treated our son – as a daughter rather than a step-daughter. I taught her to ride a bike. I went to her swim meets. I even walked her down the aisle to get married – twice. But there always seemed to be an invisible pane of glass between us. I loved her and knew she loved me, but there was still something missing. I just didn’t realize what it was at the time.
Then in late 2023, a few years after we had moved to Idaho to be near Kimi and her kids, I learned that our new home allows adult adoptions – something which I had never even heard of. After consulting with my wife, I decided to take a chance and see if Kimi would even consider such a thing.
The next time she was over at our house, I asked if I could talk to her in private. She thought she was in trouble for something, even though I assured her she wasn’t. We went to a quiet room downstairs, and had a seat.
Frankly, I was really nervous. I had no idea how she’d react, so I dove right in. “I have a proposal, and you can say ‘no.’ How would you feel about me adopting you?”
To my utter surprise, she didn’t say “There’s no need for that,” or “I’ve already got a father.” She hugged me and said “Yes!”
Wham! Just like that, our relationship changed – for the better. The glass separating us, which I didn’t even know was there, disappeared. It turned out that we both had something missing in our lives. It wasn’t love – we had that. I came to realize that it was commitment – a promise to be there for each other, no matter what.
I immediately hired a paralegal to draw up the paperwork, and filed all the necessary forms with the court clerk. Our hearing would be the following month.
At the court hearing Kimi and I were sworn in and the judge asked a few proforma questions:
- Did we understand the significance of what we were doing? “Oh yes!”
- Was this being done to commit a fraud? “Nope.”
- How will it change our relationship? I said, “Not much really,” because I was stupid.
- Why did I want to do this?
I had to think about that last one for a bit. I finally said, “I’ve always loved her, but the only way I can legally show it is through marriage or adoption, and marriage is out of the question.”
That drew a smile from the judge, who pronounced us “father and daughter,” signed the paperwork, shook our hands, and took a picture with us. From that moment forth, everything changed. I never knew that we could be closer than we already were, but to our utter delight, we are.
Does love require a piece of paper? Not at all. But now I realize that a healthy loving relationship requires more than love. It requires commitment. It turns out that a legally binding piece of paper signed by a woman in a black robe expresses that commitment rather nicely. Now I’m committed to my wife by marriage license, my son by birth certificate, and my daughter by court order. Just as Kimi’s mother and I promised 43 years ago to never to give up on each other, my daughter and I have now promised to always be there for each other.
Now the only difference between Kimi and her brother Joe, is that Kimi got to choose her father. On this Father’s Day I give thanks that she chose me.
Author Bio: John Green is a political refugee from Minnesota, now residing in Idaho. He has written for American Thinker, The American Spectator, Convention of States Action, and American Free News Network. He can be reached at greenjeg@gmail.com.
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