Dad made ordinary milestones feel significant.
When I stepped out of the dressing room, Dad pressed a hand over his mouth.
"Oh, baby girl," he said, eyes glistening. "You are the most beautiful girl in the world."
I smiled, shaking my head. "You always say that, Dad."
He held my gaze. "Because it's always true, sweetheart."
I twirled once, and the skirt flared out around my knees. Dad wiped his face with the back of his hand.
"Stop doing that," I said. "You're making me emotional in a retail setting."
Dad laughed, but the look on his face made me want graduation to be perfect for him more than for me.
"Because it's always true, sweetheart."
***
Graduation morning began with a special Saturday service at church, because in our house, even a day like that still started with faith. Afterward, Dad pulled out the gift bag he'd hidden from me all week. Inside was a silver bracelet with a tiny engraved heart on the inside. Not visible unless you looked closely.
I turned it over in my palm and read the words: "Still chosen."
I tried to speak, but my voice wouldn't cooperate.
Dad gently touched my shoulder. "This is for you… in case the day gets loud."
I threw my arms around him. "You really need to stop trying to make me cry before public events, Dad."
He hugged me back, and that steadied me.