He Didn't Have To — But He Did

My dad, as many of you know, is Tom Perry. But what you may not know is that he adopted me when I was 11 — and even that doesn't tell the full story, because that man stepped up long before he ever started dating my mom.

Since I was 2, he was bringing me Happy Meals, hanging out with me at the pool hall, and just being a solid, consistent presence in my life before he was ever "my dad" in any official sense. There was no obligation, no title, no reason — he just showed up. And for a little girl who needed exactly that, it meant everything. Then he and my mom got together, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Watching them grow and fall deeper in love over the years has quietly become one of my greatest life goals. Not a vacation I want to take or a milestone I want to hit — the kind of love I want to find. They've had their ups and downs, don't get me wrong. No real relationship is without them. But at the end of every single day, they choose each other. They show up. And there's something so quietly powerful about watching two people do that, year after year.

As a single mother, I can't imagine life was easy for my mom before him. But when she married my dad, she made probably the best decision of her life.

We don't speak about my biological father. There's no reason to. He wasn't around, and he unfortunately lost his life to drug addiction in 2016. The only thing that man gave me is my tan — and I'm not here to bad-mouth him. I say that with zero malice and zero grief, just truth.

I'm here because this past week at work, someone asked me how I got through my divorce. And while I was answering them, something hit me that I hadn't quite put into words before.

It wasn't just that my marriage ended. It was that somewhere along the way, I had settled for something I knew — deep down — would never look anything like what my parents have. I wasn't working toward that kind of love. I wasn't even close to it. And when you grow up watching two people choose each other every single day, you can't unsee it. You know what it's supposed to feel like. You know what it's supposed to look like. And I knew.

That clarity was painful. But it was also freeing. And it brought me right back to him.

The only reason I'm still standing today is because of my mom and my dad. Not in a "we'll check in on you" kind of way — in a "we are not leaving until you get the help you need" kind of way. They forced me, lovingly and firmly, to get the mental health support I needed when I was too deep in it to seek it myself. They have supported every decision I've made, right or wrong, and stood behind me through every obstacle — even the ones I created for myself. For that, I feel fortunate.

But when I think specifically about my dad, I think about what he showed me.

He showed me and my brothers what love actually looks like up close — not in a movie, not in a song, but in the real, daily, unglamorous act of choosing your person. The way he talks to my mom, the way he treats her, the way she never goes without — it's a standard that a lot of people will never witness in their own home, let alone grow up inside of.

He might grumble about household chores, but they still get done. I will say, he has officially retired from working on cars, and we've all made our peace with that. But everything else? He's your man. Well — my mom's man. And she is so lucky, even if she already knows it.

He has been my punching bag on more than a few occasions, and not once has he lashed back. We joke that whenever I'm spiraling or acting like a brat, I call him for "tough love." But what that really means is him picking up the phone, hearing me out, and then reminding me — calmly and without fail — that I am a Perry, and Perrys do not quit. When life gets hard, we fight harder.

He's seen me cry more times than either of us would probably like to admit. And not once has he made me feel weak for it. There are moments he's been tougher than I wanted him to be in that moment, but looking back? I needed it every single time. He knew that even when I didn't.

My standards are high because of him. My ability to stand on my own two feet, to not need a man but to want one — that comes from him too. He raised me to know the difference. He never made me feel less than my brothers. He never let me forget that I was a Perry or his daughter in every way that counted. Not by blood, but by everything else.

And I'll be honest — I am proud. I am so proud to call him my dad. Not just because of what he's done for me, but because of the kind of man he is. The kind that doesn't have to be reminded to show up. The kind that loves quietly and consistently, without needing recognition for it. I hope he knows how rare that is.

I also hope — selfishly, maybe — that one day I find someone who completes me the way he completes my mom. Someone who makes the hard days feel lighter just by being in the room. Someone who shows up not because they have to, but because there's nowhere else they'd rather be. I've seen what that looks like my entire life. I know what I'm looking for. And after everything, I finally know what I deserve too.

A lot of people don't have even one parent standing beside them through life. I have two who have never once let me question whether they were in my corner. For that, I am beyond fortunate — and this one's for him.

I suppose Happy (belated) Father's Day, dad. I love you more than I say, and I hope this comes close to covering it. 💙