There's a lot of history involved, but Becky's dad is not her biological father. No...that particular schmuck was only around long enough to get 'Nita pregnant every now and again. Otherwise, he was off serving in the navy or servicing other women. Becky was all of six months when he walked away for good...kinda. I mean, he would spend time with his children when it made him look like he just might be a good father. Other than that, he was never really a part of her life.
Becky's dad, however, entered her life when she was two, and he was good to a family that technically wasn't his. Really, it was only genetically. In every other sense, he was "daddy" to Becky. Actually, he was always known as "Turk," even though he was perpetually thought of as "dad." 'Nita and Turk never married, but have been together for 20 years. Thus, when the time comes, it will be Turk giving Becky away, and not that other guy.
Now, when it came to meeting Becky's parents, I knew I'd be meeting her mother first, as Turk was out of the country at the time. It was nerve-wracking, as Becky and I were already engaged, yet her mom hadn't met me yet. We broke it to her as gently as possible, and in that instant I was made to make several promises. 1: Becky completes school. 2: No surprise wedding, in which we come home from wherever and announce, "Surprise! We're married!" (Her ex, Shawn, tried to set up just such a thing, which ticked off a lot of people.) 3: No child named "Oops." That is, we are to do our level best to avoid getting pregnant until Becky has completed school.
Fine. We can do those things. And since that first meeting, 'Nita and I have gotten along rather well.
By the time I met Turk, he'd already received the news that Becky and I were engaged, and had had time to cool off. (I think every father hates the guy who's bound to steal away his little girl. And with Becky being the youngest of three kids, she really was the baby.) He and I got along well enough, which came as a bit of a surprise to me. I mean, he's a Muslim and I'm Jewish. We should be rolling around on the floor, hands wrapped around the other's throat. The good news...? He's about as Muslim as I am Jewish. Thus, no fights to the death.
For all the times I've gone with Becky to visit her family, I've been overlooking something that I felt was important. It's a bit old-fashioned, but I'd never actually asked her father for his daughter's hand in marriage. Sure, I had asked for her mother's blessing, but not her dad's.
I corrected that on Thanksgiving Day. I explained how I'd been so wrapped up in seeking her mother's approval that I never asked for his. His response kept things simple enough. So long as I didn't interfere with Becky becoming a nurse, I would have his blessing.
And that was it. What had been plaguing my mind for months, but what I refused to do over the phone, was finally put to rest. I can be quite stubborn, shortsighted, and even downright rude. But at all times, I try to seek out the honorable action and follow through with it.
So it was that I had a good Thanksgiving. I know not all of my readers are here in the States, and yet it's my hope that as the Holidays approach, we can all count our blessings and be thankful for all the good we have in our lives. Sure, I complain a lot, but I've been given fair reason to do so. When I can, I try to see the bright side.
Be well, and DFTBA!