An Uncle I Can Call Dad

HANNAH WEAVER, HOST: Hannah Lorenzo grew up without a father. But once she became an adult, she found someone else who she could call Dad. 

HANNAH LORENZO, BYLINE: All I really know about my biological father is what my mom told me. That he had an affair and left us for his new family when I was just a baby. So my mom raised me on her own. I can’t even imagine what that was like. Making sure she could build her own career while building me up too. She’s an expert at math. She’s even a computer engineer for a Fortune 500 company. So she had me practicing my multiplication tables every night before bed when I was still in preschool. I wanted to succeed in figure skating, so she paid for coaching, ice time, and my bedazzled costumes—including one of my favorites that was fiery red and made me look like a phoenix.

No matter what, she’s always been there for me. She supported me when I ended up quitting figure skating and focusing on school. She was always a phone call away when I left Arizona for the first time to go to college in Indiana and then Connecticut. I remember the spring break before I graduated. I was screaming down the stairs to tell her that I was accepted to a master’s program at Columbia University. She screamed along with me. 

I asked her about my father only a couple of times. My mom would just say that if he wanted to be a part of my life, he would’ve shown up by now. That there was really nothing stopping him from calling or even sending an email. So I learned to accept that there was no point in hoping if he would ever turn up. 

Besides, what would a dad have to offer that my mom didn’t already? 

Then I met Uncle Jeff, my aunt Charlotte’s husband. It was my high school graduation. For eighteen years, it was mostly just me and my mom. So when Uncle Jeff walked up the cement step to our front door, I just stood there. I felt shy. He also just stood there a bit awkwardly with a goofy grin, but in a few seconds, he rushed up and hugged me.  

I vaguely remember him when I was a toddler. Back then, I was definitely intimidated by him, with his tall, strong build and tattoos. 

But Uncle Jeff wasn’t so intimidating this time. The silver streaks running down his beard hinted at his age. And I also got to see the tattoos on his right arm more closely, especially the really cool one of a mutated octopus fighting a shark in the sea. 

He told me he wanted to be more a part of my life, more than just an uncle I saw every couple of years. 

Soon I was visiting their cramped apartment in Washington. I got to spend time with my two young cousins and catch up with my aunt, who’s a night owl like me. Uncle Jeff and I would sit at his dining room table, and he told me about his own life. How complicated his side of the family was. Stories about traveling while in the Navy. And what it was like the first time he met my aunt. He was totally mesmerized by her Filipina beauty. 

The more he told me about himself, the more I felt willing to open up. I grew more comfortable telling him about problems I had with body image that came from figure skating. How getting rejected by Ivy League colleges made me feel unworthy. Not to mention how inexperienced I was talking to guys, let alone dating them. 

I remember him just looking at me intently, not interrupting. He would lightly nod and then give me his advice. These were conversations I had with my mom. She was really the only person I had. 

But now, I had Uncle Jeff too. I appreciated that he would validate how I feel but remind me that I shouldn’t sell myself too short, especially because he knows how much of a perfectionist I am. He would tell me that I’m strong, beautiful, worthy, and capable of achieving what I want, even when I feel like I’m not good enough. Though I think he flatters me too much. 

So I started thinking. Is this what it’s like to have a father?

I get excited for our weekend FaceTime chats. We could go on for hours catching up and venting about family drama. I love seeing photos he sends of my cousins having fun at the beach in Florida or him cooking Filipino stew for my aunt. 

Recently, he surprised me when he sent a photo showing off a new tattoo on his left wrist. My name above one of his daughter’s.

I’ll be sending this piece over to him to listen to when it’s done. I know he says I shouldn’t ever feel pressured to call him “Dad,” but I think I’m ready to say it now.  

Uncle Jeff, thank you for being my Dad.

WEAVER: You can find photos of Hannah Lorenzo with her Uncle Jeff—and his cool tattoos—on the Uptown Radio website.