When Jade and her family gather to commemorate the tenth anniversary of their father’s passing, they uncover a powerful truth: a seemingly ordinary family tradition holds more significance than they ever imagined.

Growing up with my two brothers, life was pretty typical. I’m now living the adult life with my husband, Ethan, and our two daughters—I work as a nurse, and Ethan is a builder. But looking back, there was something special about the weekends I spent with my dad.

“Come on, Jade,” he would say, holding a box of beads. “It’s our time!”

We would sit around the coffee table, carefully crafting bracelets together. Back then, I thought it was a strange tradition. The beads weren’t particularly cute, and they were simply made of glass or plastic. But as a thirty-six-year-old woman, I find myself reminiscing on those moments and realizing just how much they meant to me. Especially now that my father has passed away from multiple sclerosis.

Recently, we gathered at my mom’s place to observe my dad’s tenth death anniversary. Mom wanted to have a family dinner—a day of joy amidst the difficulty of the occasion.

The day arrived, and we all—my brothers, our families, and I—gathered for a barbecue in the garden. My dad’s favorite Sunday activity was standing at the grill, tongs in hand. And so, in his memory, we celebrated with a feast.

The kids ran around, splashing in the pool, indulging in popsicles, bringing my mom the joy she desired. Eventually, conversation turned to cherished memories of our dad.

Travis, my older brother, shared how our father taught him to ride a bike.

“He always let go too soon, resulting in a few scrapes on my knees and arms,” Travis laughed. “But hey, I learned how to do it!”

Adam, the middle child, reminisced about the relationship advice Dad used to give him.

“Oh man,” he chuckled. “The advice was great but always cheesy! I didn’t think it would work, but it did.”

Then it was my turn to share. “My favorite thing was definitely the bracelet making,” I said. “The dad jokes were the best!”

With a big smile, I recounted some of the silly jokes my dad used to tell. My brothers laughed, but my mother’s face turned pale.

“Where are those bracelets?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“I think they’re in the basement, with the Halloween costumes,” I replied, confused.

Without another word, my mom excused herself to make a phone call.

Curiosity piqued, I followed her to the basement. Among the boxes, hidden behind an old couch, we discovered a dusty bag. Inside were ten bracelets—each one unique in its pattern of stones. I remembered every single bracelet, but there was one that stood out. It had a big gemstone in the middle, unlike the others made of tacky plastic beads.

It felt different. Intriguingly different.

The very next day, my mom asked me to accompany her to a jeweler. Inside a jewelry box, she revealed the large gemstones from the bracelets.

“These are worth thousands of dollars,” the jeweler exclaimed. “Where did you get them from?”

We discovered that my extraordinary librarian dad had left us a small fortune concealed within those bracelets.

“Yesterday, when we were talking about Dad and the bracelets, memories of a conversation with your grandmother resurfaced,” Mom explained. “She had asked if your father had given you and your brothers the ‘precious stones.’ I had no idea what she meant. But when you spoke of those dad jokes, it all clicked.”

Mom explained that when my dad was in his twenties, he found these gemstones during an archaeological dig as part of a course he had taken.

“The course stipulated that anything found should be claimed,” Mom continued. “So your father took them as a safety net for our family.”

Mom insisted that my brothers and I each take a gemstone for ourselves.

“Keep it, make something with it. Use it as a reminder of your father,” she said.

I chose to set my stone onto a ring that I wear every day. With every ray of sunlight that shimmers off the gem, I feel a deep connection to my father, like he’s right there with me.

When I reflect on those precious moments of making bracelets, I realize how my father wove his love and care into an activity that I once took for granted. He may have been a simple man, a man who loved books and shared his wealth of knowledge, but above all, he was a man who fiercely protected his family.