My Librarian Dad Cardinally Changed Our Lives after His Death

When Jade and her family get together to celebrate the tenth anniversary of their father’s passing, they come to the realisation that a seemingly insignificant family practice holds a great deal more significance than any of them had ever imagined.

I came from a family that falls under the category of being quite typical. My mother is an English teacher who is on the verge of retiring, and my father worked as a librarian. During our childhood, we naturally devoured novels while sitting at the dinner table.

I am currently living the adult life with my husband, Ethan, and our two girls. I have two brothers, and I am currently living with them. To put it simply, I am a nurse, and Ethan is a builder; isn’t that rather standard?

When I was a kid, my dad and I have a routine that we do every weekend.

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

Furthermore, we would sit around the coffee table and collaborate in the creation of bracelets. I have always felt that it was a peculiar little custom because the beads were either made of glass or plastic, depending on what Dad purchased, and they were not cute.

Despite the fact that it was not his love language, my father never made the habit of expressing his affection for us. On the contrary, his preferred method of showing affection was by spending time with us and by giving us books that he believed we would enjoy.

Despite the fact that I am now thirty-six years old, I often find myself thinking about the time when I was twelve years old and I enjoyed crafting those peculiar bracelets. Considering that my father has gone away from multiple sclerosis, I find myself thinking about it more frequently.

Quite recently, it was the tenth anniversary of my father’s passing, and my mother expressed her desire to hold a family meal with all of us.

“I just need to have all of you over for the day, Jade,” the mother stated. “It’s difficult, and having the grandkids here will bring me joy.”

That is too much for me to argue with.

Therefore, on that particular day, my brothers and their families, along with the rest of us, went to Mom’s house to have a barbecue in the garden for the occasion.

I decided to throw a BBQ because it was my father’s favourite thing to do on Sundays. He enjoyed using his tongs to stand at the grill.

My mother was able to experience the happiness she desired because the children were playing, jumping in and out of the water, eating popsicles, and running around.

After some time had passed, the conversation shifted to reminiscing about my father.

My oldest brother, Travis, continued his discussion by describing how our father instructed him in the art of riding a bicycle.

“He always let go too soon, and that’s how I ended up with those scrapes on my knees and arms,” Travis said with laughter. “But hey, I learned how to do it!”

Adam, who is the middle kid, shared his story on how his father advised him on how to handle relationships.

“Oh man,” he laughed out loud. But despite the fact that it was sound advise, it was always so corny! Although I didn’t believe it would be successful, it was.

As time went on, it was finally my chance to contribute something. My heart broke because of the loss of my father, despite the fact that I enjoyed being surrounded by my family and listening to all of the stories that were told about him.

“My favourite thing is definitely the bracelet making,” I said to myself. “The dad jokes were the best!”

I don’t see why the sapphire never attended school. Despite the fact that it was a gem, it was too busy being a gem. It made me laugh. What did the jade have to say to the diamond, and what about the other situation? The phrase “I’m green with envy!”

While my brothers were laughing through their drinks, my mother became pale. My brothers, on the other hand, were silent.

“Where are those bracelets?” Mom inquired with a hushed tone of voice.

I responded with a bewildered “I’m not sure,” “I think in the basement, with the Halloween costumes.”

Without uttering a single word, she excused herself in order to make a communication call.

“We need to find those bracelets now.”

I followed my mother down to the basement, even though it made no sense to do so. After searching through a few boxes, we were finally successful in locating an old dusty bag on the back of an old couch.

Then I said, “I believe that this is it.”

A total of ten bracelets were contained within, each of which featured a distinctive arrangement of stones. Despite the fact that I was able to recall each one, I was unable to recall the large gemstone that was situated in the middle of the tacky plastic beads.

It appeared to be quite different.

I was instructed to take my mother to a jeweller the following day by her mother. A small jewellery box was in her possession, and inside it were all of the huge jewels that were used in the bracelets.

“These are worth thousands of dollars,” the jeweller said that they were. “Where did you get them from?”

It turned out that my remarkable father, who was a librarian, had given us a tiny fortune in the form of bracelets that contained stones that were buried inside of them.

She started telling me the truth as soon as we arrived at Mom’s place, where she had already made some tea.

“Yesterday, while we were discussing Dad and the bracelets, I recalled a conversation that I had with your grandmother. She inquired as to whether or not I had provided the ‘precious stones’ to you and your brothers. What she was talking about was completely foreign to me. On the other hand, when you were talking about those jokes about dads, it suddenly clicked.

During the time when my father was in his early twenties, Grandma shared with Mom that he had discovered them while participating in an archaeological dig as part of a course that he had joined up for.

“The course stipulated that anything found should be taken,” the mother explained. “So your father took them as a safety net for this family.”

This discovery did more than just alter our financial condition; it also altered the way in which we saw our father. Our obligations were paid off, and we made investments in our futures. For the purpose of assisting families who were struggling to recover after the death of a loved one, Mom drafted a proposal for a charitable organisation so that we could provide assistance to them.

The jewel was something that my mother insisted that my brothers and I take for ourselves.

You should keep it and turn it into something. According to her, “Make use of it to remember your father.”

It was a ring that I wear every day that I used to set my stone. In particular, when the sunshine reflected off of the ring, I wished that my father was right there with me.

When I think back on those brief minutes of crafting bracelets, I am reminded that my father woven his love and care into an activity that I had previously taken for granted. My father was a straightforward individual who had a deep appreciation for literature and devoted his entire life to imparting it to others. On the other hand, he was just a man who wanted to safeguard his family, regardless of everything else.

Even though I am trying to find something special to do with my girls, I am also trying to find family traditions that are significant.