Aug. 13 has always been a special day in my family. Rather than calling it Mom and Dad’s anniversary, it’s our family anniversary. It wasn’t just a wedding -- it was the day we became, well, a family.
My parents married on Aug.13,1994.Iwasaround 9 years old at the time, and my younger sister, Meg, was about 5 or 6ish. We were junior bridesmaids, but honestly, I think the full impact of that day and everything that led up to it -- and came after -- didn’t really settle in until I was much older.
But let’s start from the beginning.
Mom and Dad dated for about four years off an on before Dad finally popped the question. To put it bluntly, I was not a big fan of Dad’s. I was a bullied kid. I wore bifocals and had buck teeth. We moved around a lot, so I was always the new kid. I learned from a young age to make friends quickly as a survival tactic. And well, I did NOT like Pete Kalka. Mostly because his love language is teasing, and I was already getting enough at school. When Mom told me we were moving back to Kansas City fromFlorida so they could get married, I burst into tears.
But another survival tactic I picked up was to adapt quickly. So, I did. Mom and Dad were getting married no matter what I did or said, so it was best to accept it. Also, I could see that he made Mom happy. And really, he wasn’t a bad guy (at all). I think the first time I called him “Dad” was maybe a few weeks after they got married. We were having a silly family argument, and I remember saying, “I’m with Dad.” I’m pretty sure Mom was the only person who noticed that, but I could see the tears in her eyes.
And then I found out that Pete was adopting us. Again, I was 9. I didn’t really understand what was going on or why, though I knowMomtriedtoexplain. All I truly remember from that experience was sitting in a courtroom, waiting for my birth father (whom I hadn’t seen in about two years) to walk in and fight for us, but he never did. As a kid, I was crushed. As an adult, I learned that he did what he thought was best for me and Meg. And that was to let Pete become our dad.
And he did. It was in the way he loved us like we were his own. How he supported us, guided us and raised us alongside our mother to be independent.Thatwecould do whatever it was we set our minds to if we put in the work. Years later -- when I was in high school -- Mom finally told me more about their story. How they met and got engaged (I later found out in my late 30s that she left some details out, which, yes, was a good call at the time). And I learned some things that solidified what I already knew about the man who chose to be my father.
When he proposed, Dad said he had one condition. Mom,thoughabitcautious, heard him out. He said that if they got married, he wanted to adopt my sister and me, because he already loved us and saw us as his daughters.
Hearing that made me realize how very lucky I was.
There’s more I could say about their love story, but that would probably take up an entire novel. Mom and Dad, like any and every couple, had their ups and downs. But they loved each other. They supported each other, whether it was helping Dad fulfill his dream of owning a restaurant (Shout out to old fans of Pete’s Diner) or Dad standing by Mom as she went through a year and a half of brain cancer treatments.
And he’s always been there for my siblings and me. We may not always agree on things, but we love each other. He still tells me he’s proud of me whenever we talk on the phone. I love hearing his sea turtle watch updates and how his daily life is going in semi-retirement in Florida.
At the end of the day, Pete Kalka is my dad, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
So, to Dad and Meg here and to Mom and Trey in Heaven -- Happy 32nd Family Anniversary.