My eyes filled with tears.

I tried to look away.

I didn't want hundreds of strangers watching me cry.

But I couldn't stop.

June unfolded another piece of paper.

"So we decided that today wasn't just about our graduation."

She paused.

"It's about yours, too."

The crowd became emotional.

Then Ava said something I'll never forget.

"Dad, you always told us that raising us wasn't a sacrifice."

She smiled.

"But we know it was."

Claire reached into her gown.

She pulled out a small envelope.

Then another.

Then another.

Three envelopes.

One for each sister.

Inside were letters.

Letters they had apparently been writing for years.

Each letter described a different memory.

The night I stayed awake when Ava had pneumonia.

The time Claire broke her arm.

The day June failed her first major exam and thought she had ruined her future.

They remembered everything.

Even the things I had forgotten.

Then June said:

"You gave us twenty-two years."

She looked toward the audience.

"So we wanted to give something back."

Behind the stage, a screen suddenly lit up.

Photographs appeared.

Three babies.

Three toddlers.

Three little girls.

Three teenagers.

Three university students.

And in nearly every photograph, I was somewhere nearby.

Holding a birthday cake.

Standing beside a hospital bed.

Waiting outside a school.

Sitting in a cheap restaurant.

Taking photographs.

Growing older.

The final photograph showed the four of us together.

I couldn't see clearly anymore.

My eyes were full of tears.

Then the three girls walked down from the stage.

They came toward me.

And that's when I finally understood.

They hadn't brought me to graduation simply to watch them receive their degrees.

They had brought me there because they wanted the world to know something.

I was their father.

Not because of blood.

Because I stayed.

CHAPTER 5 — "YOU WERE NEVER JUST OUR UNCLE"

The three girls reached me at the same time.

Ava hugged me first.

Claire wrapped her arms around my shoulders.

June grabbed my hand.

And suddenly I was surrounded by the three children who had once fit inside three tiny car seats.

Except they weren't children anymore.

They were grown women.

Educated.