A Page From Fathers Journal
Barbara Hill

I watched tonight as Vincent bathed the tiny, squirming infant who is a mirror image of her unique father. His wife sat at her desk, trying to concentrate on paper work brought home from the office. I could see she was failing miserably, as the sight before us proved far more interesting. After several, surprisingly well aimed splashes from her daughter, Catherine laughed softly and got up to offer aide.

I'd better see if I can help him before they both drown.

I watched with happiness and pride as my daughter leaned against my son's strong frame, both giving and receiving support. My beautiful granddaughter giggled happily when she realized she now had a new target to play splash with. The sight of the three of them together warmed my heart.

I wonder if these two people, both so very dear to me, know how grateful I am that they did  not allow my dire warnings of a life that could never be, destroy their love. Their strength and convictions, thank God, proved me wrong. Neither of them have ever reproached me on this matter and have long since forgiven an old man his doubts and fears. There are times, though, when I do blame myself for almost destroying their chance for happiness.

She is truly a woman of both worlds now, this beautiful top-sider who captured my son's heart so completely. It is our world she calls home and she never lets me or my son forget it.

My son's heart is not the only one she holds captive, for she is loved by everyone in our world. She is loved for herself and for all that she has given Vincent. Catherine has given him a life that his friends have always wished for him. With her he is happy and content. With her he is complete.

I'm tired and the ache in my leg tells me I have been up too long. It's time for bed. They will drop my granddaughter off with me in the morning as they both go off to work. Once more they will allow me a grandfather's privilege of spoiling their daughter.

I love my times alone with this tiny, new life. As I hold her close, I am reminded of the true miracle that is my son, and I am reminded as well of the miracle of their love and the special life that love created: my granddaughter, Victoria Margaret Wells.

When I look at that little face, so very much like Vincent's at that age, I think back to the words Catherine spoke on the day Victoria was born. As my son gazed at the sight of his daughter nursing at her mother's breast, a look of total joy and wonder in his eyes, Catherine whispered softly, Now you know, Vincent. Look at our daughter and you will see what I see every time I look at you. Now you can see why I think you are so very beautiful.

When I hold my granddaughter in my arms, I finally understand completely the words I spoke to Vincent so long ago and am truly grateful that he has found his truth beyond knowledge. He has found his ~ love.