To my dear darling daughter, Beca, on her wedding day.

I'll never forget the day you were born and placed in my arms when you were just a couple of minutes old.

I think I cried harder than you as you screwed up your beautiful, flawless face and wailed about goodness knows what. You were just six pounds but proved to be a tiny power pack from the second you arrived. Even then, your vocals were heard throughout the maternity unit and no one could believe such a gorgeous little baby could make herself heard.

I knew then that you would go far.

We brought you home and our life as a family began in earnest. By the time you were two; walking and talking was for other people as you preferred singing and dancing. I'd tell anyone who would listen that you were talented beyond your years. You and I would sneak out on a Saturday afternoon when Mom was working and find ourselves in the ice cream shop overlooking the park, sharing a double scoop of whatever your favourite flavour was at the time.

I can never remember if those were my favourite moments before you were five or if it was when you were curled up on my lap and we'd listen to music or you'd sit quietly while we read about bears going camping, princesses with long hair or piratey adventures on the high seas.

You'd introduce me everywhere we went to anyone who would listen, calling me the best daddy in the world and for a time I believed you. You loved it the most when I would carry you on my shoulders and let you reach for the leaves in the trees and you loved to stick them in scrapbooks.

When you were eight years old, I broke your heart and it took you over ten years to begin to start forgiving me. Mom and I just didn't work out and while we both did all we could to reassure you that it wasn't your fault, you withdrew into yourself in such a fashion that it became impossible to reach you.

I tried so hard to make things right and I failed. I took a job clear across the country from you and Mom. When I married Sheila, you refused to come to the wedding and stopped answering my texts and my calls. I accepted it. I deserved it.

My prayers were answered when you agreed to go to Barden for your college years. Since you were fifteen, I'd only managed to see you four times so I told myself I'd give you time to settle in but I couldn't wait to see you. You were still unpacking when I came to your dorm and I desperately wanted to hold you in my arms and for you to become my little girl again and beg me to take you to the ice cream parlour and buy you a balloon.

Perhaps if the scariest student in all of Barden's history, dear Miss Kimmy Jin; your delightful roommate for the first year, hadn't been giving me the stink eye, I would have been able to tell you how happy I was to see you but back then, I don't know if you would have listened.

I heard from your Mom that you didn't have many friends and kept to yourself in your bedroom. When she said you were 'mixing stuff', I'll admit that my mind did wander over to which herbs you were smoking but I had to research what you were doing. I got the wrong type of DJ, I know that now and it's something that we've laughed about for many years since.

I knew LA beckoned you with a big foam finger sized calling. I didn't want to lose our feeble connection so I agreed to help you move there in exchange for a bit of effort from you in your first year. I knew you better than you thought I did. I knew with some friends under your belt and a place to hone your interests, you'd end up staying put. I was prepared for the gamble.

I simply could not have been prouder of you when I saw you on stage at Lincoln Center, winning the ICCA's with a fairly strange mix of people who you would passionately declare were a brilliant bunch of girls. Watching you stay connected with them as you stayed on to finish your degree warmed my heart more than you'll ever know. Even after leaving college, you stayed in touch and formed real friendships.

I'm not quite sure how I felt watching my little girl attach herself to a young man. I still remember you wearing pigtails and playing with dolls yet here you were, nineteen and falling in love, with a floppy haired and slightly goofy boy named Jesse.

He rapidly endeared himself to the family. As your Mom so eloquently put it, 'anyone who could put up with you at your worst, deserved to have you at your best'. Jesse became a constant presence and it wasn't long before it went from 'I wonder if Beca will come over to dinner this week?' to 'will Beca and Jesse be free for lunch?'. He integrated himself into life with you so seamlessly, I hardly noticed.

Of course, I had to have the fatherly chat with him and warn him that if he ever hurt you, he'd have Sheila to deal with! He encouraged you to have a relationship with your stepmom and I don't believe I am speaking out of turn if I say that you became friends with each other.

You and Jesse headed out to LA to begin life as a young couple. I know you struggled; the phone calls and texts let me know this but you never gave up and the dividends soon started flooding in. I felt immense pride when you and Jesse paid for Sheila and I to fly out to see you. I never imagined for one minute it would be to tell us you were getting engaged.

I often wondered how I would feel about seeing you getting ready for your own wedding; all the build up and confusion playing havoc with your emotions. In a way, I guess I was glad I lived all those miles away, slightly out of the way.

You included me on everything; sending me photos of your dress and shoes and the suits that Jesse had chosen. I was so proud to be included in the wedding party. You asked my opinion on the hairstyles that you were thinking of. I remember enjoying seeing your friends in the background of the photos; it was obvious that they were enjoying the uncomfortable look on your face at being fussed over.

Then the wedding plans went on hold.

Your friend Aubrey got sick. I've never heard you so frightened and sad as I did that day you told me she had kidney failure and her chances of getting better sat around 20%. I know all of you girls rallied around her, doing all you could from all four corners of the country. The fact that you all jumped on airplanes to spend time with her as she began the slow road to recovery shows, once again, the bond you formed with the girls from your a capella days. I was mightily impressed that, at just 23 years of age, you cared so much about someone that you organised a charity event and raised an incredible sum of money to help out with medical expenses.

Wedding plans were soon back on until I got the most amazing news that had me falling to my knees with joy.

I was going to be a grandpappy.

Jesse stepped up and took a second job so you could cut back on hours at the studio. Sheila and I visited as often as we could, careful not to intrude but just enough so you knew we were there, for anything you needed. But you didn't ask for anything and my strong, independent daughter managed superbly even with a 30 hour labour.

You presented the most adorable baby girl, Amelia Grace, to the family. Like you, she was six pounds and the absolute carbon copy of you, even down to wailing lustily in the delivery suite as I waited with your Mom and Sheila in the waiting room. I had no words that day, I could only look in awe as I held your first born in my arms.

We all encouraged you and Jesse to make your union official and so, with a lot of help, plans surged forward for the third time. Everyone knew their role and even Aubrey was well enough to accept her bridesmaid position.

Your friends Amy and Chloe organised a night out for you while Jesse's friends Bumper and Donald took him out to Las Vegas for the weekend. Everyone was going to have a good time except your dear friend Aubrey who took a turn for the worst and was admitted back into hospital as her kidneys began to fail was devastated at the thought of missing your wedding.

She made the doctors promise to get her better for the day and they agreed she could attend if she was well enough. Unfortunately her condition deteriorated and she feared for her life. I, of course, was charged with babysitting my year old granddaughter; a task I was ready for and relished the idea of while you were out celebrating, stopping by the hospital first to see Aubrey. I was in the middle of telling Amelia all the tales I could remember about you as a young girl when I received the phone call.

It was a call I never, ever expected to receive.

So, today, a bright sunshine filled day is your wedding day. There isn't a cloud in the sky and it's unusually warm for May. There are no other jobs to perform, no other tasks left undone, all of the dry cleaning collected, the food prepared, the Church is filled with beautiful flowers and I have no doubt the organist has been practising the songs you requested. Everyone is gathering in their droves, some already waiting in the Church as I write you this letter. I should be getting ready but I am putting off the inevitable.

I'm not ready to say goodbye to my little girl, the apple of my eye. It wouldn't be so hard if I was handing you over to Jesse, your sweetheart and your rock, but I'm not. You see, despite this being the day you picked to finally marry the love of your life and despite the lovely weather and everyone gathered together, I won't be walking you down the aisle today.

Instead I will be going through the motions.

I will shake hands with people, take their condolences and try to offer some explanation as to what happened on the last night out you had, five days before your wedding. Shock will rip through everyone as they learn what happened. Everyone will be crying, I have no doubt of that but I have no more tears left. I'm not angry anymore. I'm not even sure I am sad. I just feel numb and empty, like a hollowed out shell. It's not suppose to happen this way. Parents aren't supposed to bury their children.

We arranged for you to be laid to rest in your wedding dress with mementos from everyone you loved and cared for to be left with you as you make the journey from this world to the next. Your Mom and Sheila included photographs, not wanting to leave anything that you might have touched and imprinted on in there. Chloe left a shower cap, winking at me that you would understand. Amy arranged for a piece of cheesecake to be wrapped in plastic. Benji organised a deck of magic cards and the rest of the friends recorded some tunes for you.

Jesse wrapped up a box full of things which he kept private from the rest of us. He's still unable to speak and his parents are with him doing their best to helping him through. He is more broken than I am and as my last gift to you, I'll make sure he is all right and will work with him when he needs support. He's clinging to Amelia fiercely and won't let her out of his sight. She's all he has left of you.

I needed to say goodbye to you one final time but I can only manage a few words before my voice cracks completely. I decided to write to you instead and as I close this letter, as the funeral car has now arrived, I wanted to thank you.

Thank you for leaving a legacy behind you. You'll never know this but I feel I should tell you nevertheless. You carried a donor card, we all knew this, but what we didn't know is that you were a perfect match for your friend Aubrey and she underwent a kidney transplant three days ago and is already making good progress.

You will also be helping seven other people live their lives to the fullest potential. You will live on through them, in a way. I hope to one day meet the recipients of your gifts and help them to know you as you would want to be remembered. As they go on about their lives, I'm sure they'll think of you every day for the rest of the their lives and that brings me a great deal of comfort.

Thank you for giving us our sweet Amelia Grace. She will help us heal in the years to come and on the days when I miss you the most, I'll hug her a little tighter. I'll take her to the ice cream shop, I'll buy her balloons and I'll tell her how much you loved and adored her. I'll read her your favourite childhood stories and tickle her when she's sad. I'll make sure she follows in your footsteps and attends Barden. Who knows, maybe one day she'll fulfill your legacy and have her name in lights.

But most of all thank you for being my daughter, thank for being you and for never changing who you were to appease others. Thank you for all the joy you've brought to my life, for the laughter we shared and the memories we made. Though our time was short, I take comfort in knowing you're in a better place. I am and always will be so proud of the woman, wife - yes, you were a wife in every sense of the word - and mother you became. I will be eternally grateful for having you in my life, even if only for a few short years.

Sleep well baby girl, until we meet again.

With all my love,

Dad xx

A/N - Shout out to cajunqueen714 for poking at it with a big stick because it made you cry and cuticlecareenetwork for stopping hoovering to have a read!