Ava walked up to the platform and started crying even before she reached the stage. Next came Claire, who saw me in the audience and waved with both her hands the way she used to do from our school bus windows when she was younger. Next was June walking up calmly, as always.
I snapped a photo, thinking that the ceremony was over. But then the dean moved up to the microphone, and the three of them walked up again to the middle of the stage and held hands.
June grabbed the microphone. “Our father wasn’t able to make it here today.”
The air rushed out of my lungs. Daniel. After twenty-two years of silence, they had decided to mention him during their graduation. It hurt too badly to even cry, but I managed to stay in my seat and smile for them.Then Ava fished out a piece of paper from her dress.
“We stumbled upon an old notebook that was tucked away in the back of a kitchen drawer,” June said into the mic. “And we thought we would read something from it.”
My heart almost stopped beating. I knew which notebook she was referring to. It was the old spiral notebook in which I used to jot down my feelings late at night when they were all asleep so as not to go crazy.June coughed and began reading: “To my girls. Today marks your first year of life. I don’t know if you will ever read this, or if I’m doing anything right here, but I just want to get it all out there. I’m twenty-seven. I’m terrified. I don’t have a clue how to be a father, but I promise that I won’t be going anywhere. I may never be the father you deserve, but I’ll always be the one that shows up.”
Ava stepped up to the microphone, and her voice cracked. “I promise you will get your breakfast every morning, even if I ruin it in the process. I promise that you’ll never have to ask me where I am.”
And Claire read out the final lines, “I love you more than I knew a person could love anything. Happy first birthday.”
It was completely silent in the room after that. And then, June descended the stairs on the stage and came down the aisle all the way until she got right by me and placed a framed piece of paper into my trembling hands.
“We filed the papers months ago,” she whispered, drying my tears. “The adoption was finalized last week.”
Ava spoke loudly into the microphones, “We found what our biological father left us. You’ve never been just an uncle, Noah. You’ve always been our father.”
