My publisher asked me if I would consider writing about Father’s Day this week. No one wants to disappoint their boss, especially when I know that he himself is a wonderful dad to his two daughters.

My struggle is how to restrain from trying to recognize and honor all the fathers in my life without writing a book.

My own father is worthy of several chapters on his own.

There are those who, when my dad passed away in 2015, asked if he was my dad or my stepdad. Strangers I would forgive for asking that, but a few who posited are folks who have known me since childhood and who know my story, and frankly, it made me angry for a skinny minute.

Because he was, is, and always will be my dad, both in my eyes and the eyes of the law. When he married my mother, he legally adopted me, giving me his name and his family along with his love and attention.

There was never, ever a time when he said, in an argument or in a moment of stress, that I was not his child. He treated me always as if I was born to him.

I distinctly remember, after the adoption when I was 7, the first time I called him “dad.” We were standing on our front porch, and I wanted his attention to ask a question. I knew I was going to call out “dad” instead of his first name, but I also knew I didn’t want it to feel like a big deal. I took a deep breath, and softly called to him. He looked up, looked me in the eye, smiled as big a smile as I’d ever seen, then just carried on with our conversation as though nothing had happened. He seemed to instinctively understand I did not want to make a huge moment of it, but we both knew in our hearts that it was.

That summer he taught me to ride my bike without training wheels, a moment when I first saw the pride on his face.

Through the years, he sat beside me helping me with math and history, played checkers and card games with me, celebrated birthdays on both sides, his and mine, tolerated and sometimes enjoyed my friends, was often proud, sometimes disappointed, but it was all a part of being my parent. He made me feel loved, cherished, safe and secure.

Toward the end of his life, when he had some health challenges, mom was always his first priority, but I was always the second one he called for. And I was perfectly okay with that. I wholeheartedly agree with the saying that the best thing a father can do for his children is love their mother. And he did, emphatically. But he always made it clear that I was also a priority, and he wanted to know I was there when things were a bit of a struggle. And it was always not just my honor to be there, but from my heart. He was, is, and always will be, my dad.

I am also fortunate enough that I have had another family man in my life from childhood who made me feel loved, cherished, safe and secure. My maternal grandfather was there from day one, and I confess he was larger than life for me.

I still believe there was nothing that man could not do, and he made me believe I had the same ability. He did not draw lines about what girls could and could not do, but behaved as if my femaleness was nothing but a word. It was never something that should hold me back, whether it was fishing, playing tennis, dancing, or performing at school. Because he made me believe I could do it all, I did. I just never thought otherwise.

And just like my dad, my grandfather loved my grandmother to the moon. He helped raise two girls, mom and her sister, and he taught them the same things he taught me: believe in you and it will come.

Both my dad and granddad were talented men who lived their lives to the absolute fullest, rising to the top of their careers, being well-respected and admired in the community and true friends to everyone. They both saw the best in everyone they met, until they were shown otherwise. Neither were men of retribution, though. They would just move on.

So many things I absorbed and learned from them both. It is my fond hope that I am half the human being they both were, and that my own parenting comes out of the lessons they taught me.

I will say they set the bar incredibly high for any other men in my life, at least when it came time for me to choose a life partner. But my husband cleared it with room to spare, and fortunately, both my dad and granddad got to know, and love him. Though we have a blended family, we have raised my two boys and his four girls together over 27 years and counting, and I could not ask for or imagine a better husband for me or father for our children.

He is intelligent, creative, insanely smart and ridiculously funny. He is willing to put his ego aside for tea parties with little girls, he swims with the kids though he cannot float, and the number of plays, concerts, sporting competitions and other events that he has attended are countless. He is the trivia champion and the one they call when there is an argument to settle or a detail to clarify. He is the one they call when something is wrong and they need help or advice. And, like my dad, the pride on his face is visible time and time again when we have seen our children succeed. They are part of his heart.

I have been blessed to have three wonderful father figures in my life. I hope everyone at some point is so lucky. May all the fathers out there feel celebrated this Father’s Day.