The Best Three Days Ever

As I sit here typing my thoughts and feelings, I am still basking in the glow of a three-day camping and fishing trip with my three children; Gina, Jesse and Tony. And I can say without any hesitation, with no margin for error, those three days were the finest, most memorable days of my life.

There were two catalysts for this get together. The first was Tony and Jesse’s 25th Birthday. The second was finding out the old Judson School in Alpine, Arizona had become an Inn and that we might be able to visit. When the Inn was acting as a summer campus for the Judson School of Scottsdale, Arizona, Gina, Jesse and Tony spent three eventful summers living there. So, Gina and Tony drove down from Denver, Jesse and I drove up from Phoenix and we met at Big Lake for three of the greatest days ever!

I have had wonderful days before, probably more than I can count if I tried to list them. Things like the birth of my children, the day the boys were released from intensive care, Gina’s many ribbons and awards in Three Day Eventing, the day each one was baptized and I can go on and on. No one could be more proud of and grateful for their three children than I am of mine.

At the time of all such wonderful events, they were the best days at that time. Yet they all had one small flaw at the core; I wasn’t who I knew myself to be. That flaw certainly didn’t diminish my enjoyment of the day or the importance of the accomplishment whatever it happened to be. But it did present a deep longing, a pensive musing; if the event is so wonderful, so joyful, so fulfilling, how much more would it be so if I was complete, if I could be true to myself, if the secret I held inside was out and I could be accepted, loved and participate openly as Billie.

And that is what made this trip so much different, so much more wonderful. Billie made this trip. But even more than that, the four of us had a great time, integrating Billie and the journey to become Billie into our family fabric as easily as any other event. For my children, the parent I was, the father I am and the person I have always been has transcended my gender presentation as easily as my graying hair.

We talked of the usual; work, relationships, future plans, the weather and the like. But just as easily, we talked about the things that occurred because of my transition, both tragic and comic. How naturally and casually friends are told, “Yeah, my Dad is a woman” with an inflection that adds silently, “So what?” How my own comfort level encourages my children to address me as “Dad” regardless of the situation, even in public. (See my blog on that topic here.) We laughed at the time I found out the boys had actually caught me dressed as a woman long before I confessed, but kept it to themselves. (Tony said, “We just thought it was something you liked to do on weekends.”) We also talked about how Gina felt a little left out because the boys didn’t even tell their big sister that her father liked dressing up as a woman!

We talked about how I get nervous when dealing with new people but how every instance has turned out just fine. How the children are occasionally concerned about my safety and the things I do so as not to court danger. We talked about the unfortunate reactions a few people have had, but we talked much more and reminisced about the friends and family that have stood by me and what a terrific example of God’s love and acceptance they exhibit.

There is a lot more of those conversations I could share. But the most precious thing to me, the most precious thing for any parent I imagine was to hear from each of my adult children that they were proud to have me as their father that they had learned a lot from me and my struggles and will always be grateful for the example I was able to set for them while growing up.

These are three damn fine children. I couldn’t love them more, I couldn’t be any prouder of them. And I am so honored to be their dad, even when wearing a dress and high heels!

Take Care,
Dad