I was just 21 when my father passed. He had had a stroke the year before so when he complained of stomach problems we took him to his regular doctor to have him checked out. They put him in the hospital that day for tests. That was a Tuesday. He passed Saturday the same week of stomach cancer. I was the youngest of three girls and what you would call daddy's girl. He was my protector against my older siblings and I have to admit I was spoiled. It hurt to know he would never know my children. That they would never know this wonderful man that I loved so dearly. I couldn't cry at his funeral, I guess I was numb. I couldn't visit his grave site, to me he was in my heart, not in that cold piece of earth. I talked to him regularly. Told him of my life, the good and the bad, and somehow that gave me peace. Two years later I became pregnant with my first child. I had been engaged for 4 years and when I became pregnant my fiancee left. I never saw him again. I talked to daddy through that whole pregnancy, told him of my fears, and of the tremendous hurt I felt. I was alone that whole 9 months except for my talks with daddy. I worked, saved my money, and was able to keep my precious little girl. She was born April 29, 1977, and I know he was there the day she arrived on this earth. I ask him on that day to watch over her, to intercede for me to God and ask him to send me a man that would love us both. Just 6 months later a wonderful man came into my life, and accepted both of us with a love that had no bounds. My little angel became his little angel and they grew so close everyone in that small little town seemed to forget he wasn't her natural father. She grew healthy and strong and in no time was walking and talking. We would tuck her into bed every night with a bedtime story, and prayers, and she would hug us and tell us she loved us and she loved Grandpa. I asked her one night how she knew Grandpa as my husbands father lived far away and had never seen her. She told me Grandpa Crawford, my father, took her to the park, and pushed her on the swings. He told her of his own little girl and how very much she looked like her. I cried that night as I kissed her forehead and pulled the blankets over her small body. Not from sadness but from the pure joy of knowing that he did get to see my child after all. I knew her life would always be blessed, and protected, because she had her own personal angel to guide her. Joyce Conn

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