A short story:

I pick up the knife and fork and begin to eat my food. The lingering pain in my chest continues as I look across the table and see a grown woman, almost unrecognizable. I watch as the thoughts from her mind make their way into confident words. There's a shiny piece of gold on her left hand where her fourth finger meets her knuckle. I feel my knee begin to hurt as I grip it so tightly that my knuckles begin to turn white.

My little girl, who's not so little anymore, came into our home today wearing a ring that means the beginning of everything to her and the end of everything to me. It feels like only yesterday I made her favorite pancakes as she got ready for school. Now? I'm serving her coffee in a teacup as she gushes to my wife. I tune back into the conversation as I hear my name mentioned, "What do you think Dad?" My mind couldn’t help but want to ask "Do you have to?" but I listened to my heart instead, "I'm so happy for you."

It is set to be in the fall and more or less, the days feel like seconds. There isn't a moment that passes where I can’t help, but wonder how does any father get through this? Numerous times I search for some type of guide that will give me the hope that I can make it through. From the day she was born I always knew this was going to be a tough experience for me, but as always my main concern was, will my little girl be happy in the end?

And so, today is the day. The newly fallen leaves rustle around us as small bursts of wind blow her pearly gown in random directions. I can feel my heart race as I take my first step into the passage between all the guests. My eyes look up and notice what seems to be a 50-foot walk, knowing that with each step I take my everything is one step closer to being officially gone. My palm feels sweaty as my daughter grasps it tightly. My attention turns to the soft delicate hand that is comforting mine. Her little hand, the first thing I looked at when she was born; 10 fingers.. 10 toes.. She's perfect. I held that little hand on many occasions; her first steps, her first time to ride a bike, her first day of school, and even her first dance recital. But, this time it’s different, this time is the last.

Within that hand alone, I can recall so many good and bad times. After today, memories with my little girl are all that I will have left. Knowing that, I cling on tightly to my daughter's hand; almost as tightly as the memories I will keep forever in my heart. This 50 foot walk quickly became 0 and one by one each of her fingers begin to let go. I grab her hand, kiss it softly and place it into the hand that is now her everything.