Yesterday was a two-headed day. On one hand (head), we’ve got young Zac’s 15th birthday. On the other, the 3 year mark of Shawn’s passing, my wife’s husband and the father of two of my kids.

As far as family function goes, its a study in contrast. It means that 3 years ago, on Zac’s 12th birthday, we (my 3 kids and I) were celebrating as Zac blew out candles and opened presents that I tried really hard not to wrap in Christmas paper. All of us were oblivious to what the day would mean then, nor what it means now.

As he desired, Zac and his friends traveled downtown by limo to enjoy a fancy meal at a swanky restaurant where the menu prices don’t have decimals. That was the day before his birthday. He woke up the next morning and didn’t go to school, another part of his gift — truancy. For his birthday, he got a classic Beach Boys vinyl album (I’m raising them analog) that he’s wanted for a long time, which Brittany found online in her own style, a way that makes everything complex look unreasonably easy, the same way she “whipped up a peanut butter pie — it’ll only take 5 minutes” and served it in graham cracker crust with protruding candles. We sang. He’s only 15 but he’s the size I was at age 21, so I count this as the last birthday where he’s not towering over me in a way that brings me 99% pride and 1% intimidation.

Hours later that evening, Shawn’s son Carter and I went out and drove the back roads of Ottawa County. It was all about time together with his adoptive dad. Talk, music, seeing if the truck can peel out, and the like. Unstructured. Memories. 3 years — a lifetime ago, yet yesterday. So much life has been crammed into the last 1,096 or so days. He and I talked about what it’s like to lose a parent, as my mom passed almost 13 years ago and yes, I think about her every day. You’re never quite the same, but you press on, unaware of the capabilities one has to do what you were convinced was impossible at the time. All of this, we discussed, is by God’s grace. I see God answering prayers in my son Carter’s life, and I stand in awe. There’s less anger with God, more thankfulness for what he’s got now in spite of the circumstances.

Cam and I talked about Daddy Shawn, a concept that he both grasps and gets confounded by. I have two sons that have experienced loss and trauma. They mix in nicely with my three other kids who have experienced the same popsicle, just of a different flavor. I imagine that Cam and I will talk about these things for the rest of our days together, just as with Carter. I’ll regularly remind them of the love and support that their Dad Shawn had for them, and that I am no replacement. Yet, I take my role as dad seriously. It’s a calling, a project, a position and ministry in life that displays God’s trust in getting us involved in the healing process, while pushing us to desperation that would not otherwise be there.

Brittany and I consider ourselves to be on a rescue operation, being their other parent who, as far as we can control it, will simply be here, loving our kids, some of which are ours and some who aren’t, but all of whom are our kids.

By God’s grace, we do this together and with tons of love and lots of grit and the occasional sparky frustration — whether it’s remembering a world-crushing loss or celebrating a fantastic kid’s birthday.

Even on days when we’re doing both at the same time.