...
your grace will light our hearts
...
Washington DC || Eighteen years ago
"Twinkle, twinkle, little star how I wonder what you are! Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky. Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are."
The young woman's soft voice echoed through the otherwise silent hospital room. Her beautiful blue eyes never leaving the small, delicate bundle wrapped in several blankets and resting securely in her arms. Her blonde hair, although quite damp from the exhausting hours of labour she had just endured, was bound up in a messy bun with only a few strands coming loose.
She held the little girl as tightly as she could, not quite ready to let go of her just yet. Apparently, the newborn baby felt the same way, for she had her tiny hands wrapped around her mothers finger, and looking up at her with a pair of identical deep blue eyes.
"Then the traveller in the dark," the blonde continued singing in soft tunes, never taking her blue eyes off her little girl. "Thanks you for your tiny spark, he could not see which way to go, if you did not twinkle so."
She was so lost in her own world that she didn't even notice the door to her room opening. Only when she felt her father's hand on her shoulder did she look up. "You can still change your mind," he said, and although he hadn't been happy when his beloved daughter first told him she was expecting a child, his old heart filled with love upon seeing the little bundle of joy.
Tears filled her eyes when she finally tore her gaze away from the child to look at her father. "I love her with all my heart," she whispered and carefully cradled the baby in her arms. "But I'm not ready to be a mother. She deserves better."
The older man only nodded. He knew what she meant. He had experienced it — albeit when his children were older — what is was like to be a single parent. Maybe with the child's father — whoever he was — she would have been more confident in raising the little girl. He suspected that a tiny part of his daughter's heart still longed for the mysterious stranger to re-enter her life again. But she was a scientist, and thus, knew better than to hold on to false hope. She did, however, never lose a bad word about the child's father. Nor did she regret what happened. She even told him that although it was only for a night, she hadn't felt so loved for a long time. The old man sighed; guilt rushing through his body like poison through a river. After his wife's sudden and unexpected death, he should have been there for his children. But he wasn't. He had buried himself in his work, trying to distract himself… to busy himself so that he wouldn't have the time to think about his beloved wife. Neglecting his children in the process. So part of him felt responsible that his daughter had to grow up so soon — looking for love and affection elsewhere.
"You made the right choice, kiddo," he told her, partly to convince her, partly himself — hoping with all his heart that she wouldn't regret her decision. After all, he wished for nothing more but a good and happy life for his newborn granddaughter.
"They are good people. They'll take good care of her," the young mother agreed, her voice filled with emotion.
A moment of silence fell over the room; all eyes — brown and blue — fixed upon the small child, who was by now sleeping contently in her mother's arms.
"Have they decided on a name yet," he asked her after a while, trying to get to know as much about his granddaughter as he could given the limited amount of time that was left.
When she looked up at him, a small smile appeared on the young mother's face before she gazed down at the baby again. "They let me pick the name," she whispered. After some time, she continued, "I named her after mum."
His heart skipped a beat. There it was — the by now familiar, slightly faded ache that kept pulsing through his veins whenever his late wife was mentioned. His brown eyes welled up with tears. A lump formed in his throat and he was unable to speak. He merely reached down to softly squeeze his daughter's shoulder, before he gently brushed his thumb over his granddaughter's forehead in a loving gesture.
Then he took a deep breath, tore himself away from his girls and headed quietly towards the door. Just before the door closed behind him, he could once again hear his daughter's soft singing voice.
"As your bright and tiny spark, lights the traveller in the dark," he silently sang along, hoping that his wife would light the path of their girls. "Though I know not where you are, twinkle, twinkle, little star."