Thank You for Taking Care of My Dad

A tribute to my stepmother

June was a constant, steady presence in our family for more than fifty years. After my mother died, my father’s world was broken in a way that felt beyond repair — but June helped him keep moving forward. She stepped into his life when he needed someone to give him stability, companionship, and hope. She helped mend a shattered heart, and I will always be grateful for that.

When my dad moved to Florida, I never had to worry about him being alone. I knew he had someone by his side — someone who cared for him, watched over him, and built a life with him. That brought me real peace.

June expressed love in her own thoughtful ways. She sent cards for every single occasion — holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, even the small moments. If I ever missed one, I felt guilty because she never did. She loved giving gifts, making knitted things, sharing photos she thought we would treasure. Those gestures were her language.

She also cared in quieter ways. She would indulge me when I talked endlessly about my dogs, even though she didn’t really like them, simply because she knew how much they meant to me. And years ago, when our Aunt Linda was going through a hard time, June opened our home to her — and even let her bring her dog. That was who June was: someone who made space for people, even when it wasn’t easy or convenient.

She encouraged my faith. She sent me devotionals and Bible passages, always hoping they would bring me comfort. And I’ll always remember the day she told me I had the gift of empathy. She said it so simply, but it stayed with me. It was one of the kindest things she ever gave me.

Today, I want to honor those pieces of her: her devotion to my dad, her steadfastness, her thoughtful gestures, and the way she cared in both small and significant ways. She gave my father many good years, and for that I will always be thankful.

May she rest in peace, and may we remember the best of who she was.