In order to end up in the greeting line at three funerals in under one year, a few things have to go wrong. Four years ago I attended both of my grandmothers' funerals as a newbie and then, with disbelief, attended the funeral of my mother in complete numbness. I stood with my father and my two sisters for five hours as every person who had ever affected my mother's life trudged through the door. I was hugged by those that I loved, I knew, and I had just met. Hundreds of things were whispered in my ear, but the one I refuse to forget or accept was, "Your dad will need help now to keep things the same."

Even though I know that it was said with love and good intentions, I couldn't help but flinch with what it implied: my father was incapable of taking care of himself and of us in an adequate manner. I could not disagree with anything more. I was fourteen at the time and my sisters were seventeen and twenty-one and I've never met a man more prepared to deal with two teenagers and a newly formed adult. Over the past three years, with just the two of us in the house, my dad has transformed into one of the best friends that I have ever had and will ever have, and I truly could not thank him enough for that.

I didn't know it at the time, but everything had to change because the same people weren't in my life anymore. Instead of closing himself off and attempting to be my mom and dad, Mr. Mike (a nickname given to him by my high school friends) realized that he would have more success in raising me by treating me as an adult. He made no efforts to restrict me or enforce rules that he had never appreciated. Instead, he decided to place within me what most parents could never imagine: complete trust.

He never questioned if I stayed at a friend's until one in the morning. If he had, I wouldn't have had the opportunity to cry on my best friend's shoulder. I would have cried alone in bed.

He never questioned my need to get takeout more than five times a week. If he had, I would have tried too hard to replicate every one of my mom's dinners.

He never questioned my late school nights that I spent on the couch watching Netflix until I passed out three hours before I had to wake up. If he had, I would have had panic attacks lying in my bed.

He never questioned the crafting projects I spent hundreds of dollars on: scrapbooking, tie blankets, sewing. If he had, I would have felt like I was losing the creative side of my mom.

He never questioned anything that I had to do. He only sent a text when dinner was ready and put my plate in the fridge if I said I'd be home late. I knew that he was worried, and he knew that he had to leave me alone for just a little bit to heal. The people at the funeral were right: things were never the same and they will never be the same. What they didn't realize was that I would not trade anything for the relationship I have with my dad now. I can share anything from my life and he's always on my side. I look forward to our three-hour dinner/gossip sessions and I could never thank him enough for everything that he changed for the better in my life.