With every milestone her dad had given her pearls.
Her first dance.
Her first date.
When he walked her down the aisle.
And now at thirty having her first child.
Amy glanced at the pearls on her dresser lying on top of its black velvet pouch. They made her smile as she remembered her dad the day he’d given them to her.
She and Tim had driven over to her parent’s home with a gift. Both smiling, they handed the box to her mom and dad and watched with bubbling excitement as they opened a box full of baby diapers.
Amy’s dad looked up with such a funny expression.
“Huh?” He stammered.
“Dad”—Amy squealed, “we’re having a baby and you’re going to be a Granddad.”
With quivering emotion Amy’s dad got up and left the room. When he returned he held a little black velvet pouch. With an outstretched hand, he gave it to Amy.
Amy always did when she opened pearls. They were from her first love—her dad.
Amy was his first and only child. They had their own language just like he had his own language with her mom. Her dad was awesome, so therefore, it took someone extra-special to sweep her off her feet. Blessedly, she met Tim, a godly man with an enormous heart--so her Dad happily gave his seal of approval.
But now he was just barely hanging on at the hospital intensive care unit. Heart disease was taking the last breaths from his body and Amy was praying her dad would hang on until her baby was born.
Rubbing her swollen past-due belly, Amy prayed for her dad, for her baby and for a safe delivery.
The C-section was scheduled for the next morning. At six o’clock she and Tim arrived for the prep work. Delivery was to be at eight o’clock. Right on schedule, the delivery took place.
“Whaaaa….” cried out their baby.
“What is it, Tim? Can you see?”
“IT’S A GIRL!” Yelled out Tim.
The nurse swaddled their daughter in a pink blanket and just from the pure joy of knowing God created and blessed them with such a beautiful daughter, they wept.
Several days later, they loaded up the car and headed to a building outside the hospital to see Granddad.
Walking into the building, Amy’s dad had been transferred to Hospice where Sara, Amy’s mother sat by his side. Her hand in his, she spoke of the years they had together, the memories, the moments only they knew and shared.
Amy’s throat clogged up when she saw them. She knew so many times that when there was a birth there is also a death. Holding her daughter closer, Tim guided his family on into the room. Sara stood up and hugged them all as she reached to hold her granddaughter.
“Amy…you haven’t told us our granddaughter’s name?”
“I know mom…I will.”
Amy scooted to the other side of her dad—Dad, she whispered can you hear me?
Opening his eyes…he blinked.
“Dad—you have a granddaughter…look.”
Sara moved the baby closer to his face.
Dad smiled weakly, but his eyes danced with joy.
Motioning to Sara, she got up and went to her purse. She pulled out a tiny black velvet pouch and handed it to Amy’s dad.
He looked up at Amy and said… “For my granddaughter’s first birthday,” from her old granddad.
Amy’s eyes were swimming because she knew it was pearls…
“Dad,” Amy whispered in his ear… “Her name is Megan and do you know what it means?”
He shook his head no.
“Pearls, Dad…her name means…Pearls.”
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