Isla, six years old, and her older sister Madison, who was eight, deeply missed their father, Brian. Ever since he had journeyed to his eternal home, they no longer sneaked cookies and ice cream from the pantry after bedtime, teamed up to play pranks on their mother, or enjoyed shopping trips. Those things had lost their joy without Daddy Brian by their side.

“You’re spoiling these girls, Brian!” Linda, his wife, used to scold him playfully. “Why do you always conspire with them against me? I know you sneak into the kitchen to grab treats for your little angels!”

With a mischievous grin, Brian would always respond, “I will pamper them as long as I breathe! My girls will always be my top priority! I’m afraid you’ve got some competition, my love. But don’t worry, I adore all of my girls—including you,” he would add before wrapping her in a warm embrace.

That was Brian’s nature—he brought balance to every situation, the perfect family man. However, after his passing, everything shifted. Isla and Madison grew unusually quiet, and Linda found herself grappling with the overwhelming sorrow of losing him.

Her final memories of Brian were heartbreaking. She had watched him slip away, unable to save him. The doctors had diagnosed him with stage four cancer. They had done everything in their power, following every possible treatment protocol, but ultimately, the disease won, and they lost the battle.

Brian’s health declined rapidly, and one morning, he simply didn’t wake up. The previous night, both Isla and Madison had cuddled up beside him in his hospital bed. Brian had specifically asked Linda to let them stay with him. Perhaps he had known it was his last night with his beloved daughters.

“Time of death: 4 a.m. Tuesday…” the doctors announced when Linda called, concerned that Brian wasn’t answering his phone. They cast her a sorrowful glance before covering his face with a stark white hospital sheet. And just like that, Brian was gone. He would never return, and Linda was left shattered.

After his passing, Linda struggled to piece herself back together, no matter how much she tried. Surprisingly, her daughters displayed more strength than she did. They had at least managed to attend the funeral, while she could not bear to watch him being laid to rest beneath the earth.

Brian had once shared a final wish with his daughters. “On my birthday, I want my little girls to look absolutely beautiful. I want to see what you’ll wear. Will you promise to visit me that day and show me your gorgeous outfits? It’s possible I won’t be there in person, but I want you to promise me you’ll dress up for me,” he had said with a weary smile.

As his birthday approached, Isla and Madison reminded their mother of this promise.

“Mommy,” Isla piped up, “Daddy loved my red dress. He bought me one for my birthday. I want to get another one.”

Madison chimed in, “You can pick mine, Mom. I just want it to be Dad’s favorite color.”

Linda hesitated. “I—I don’t think I can do this, girls…” she murmured, trying to avoid the subject. She was still drowning in grief, far from ready to confront such emotions.

“But we have to go see Daddy!” Isla insisted. “He told us to wear something nice on his birthday!”

Tears welled in Linda’s eyes. She had been so lost in sorrow that she had forgotten Brian’s birthday.

“What exactly did he say?” she asked softly, her voice trembling.

“Daddy wanted to see us in pretty dresses on his special day. We need to go, Mommy,” Isla urged. “Come on! We need to go shopping!”

“When did he say this?” Linda questioned. “I—I had no idea…”

“The night before he left us, Mom,” Madison revealed gently. “He held our hands and told us how much he wanted to see us looking lovely on his birthday. Please, Mom, I know you’re hurting, but can we do this for him?” She gently cupped Linda’s face in her small hands. “I know you miss him, but Isla needs this. She needs to do this for Daddy.”

Madison had always been wise beyond her years, understanding things that most children her age would struggle to grasp. With her insistence, she finally convinced Linda to take them shopping.

“Alright,” Linda exhaled, mustering a small smile. “Let’s get you the most beautiful dresses we can find, so Daddy knows exactly what he’s missing by not being with us! He’ll regret leaving us like this!” she joked through her tears, and her daughters wrapped her in a comforting hug.

“Daddy wouldn’t want to see you sad, Mommy. I just know it…” Madison whispered, stroking her mother’s back.

On Brian’s birthday, the girls dressed in their brand-new outfits, their hands clasped together as they approached their father’s grave, with Linda walking a few steps behind them.

When they arrived, they noticed two neatly wrapped gift boxes placed in front of the gravestone. Their names were written on them, and a small sticker on top read, “From Daddy.”

“Mommy!” Isla gasped. “Look! Daddy sent us presents! He’s so silly! Doesn’t he know we’re supposed to give him gifts on his birthday?” she giggled.

Madison, however, exchanged a knowing look with Linda. She understood the truth—gifts didn’t come from those who had passed away.

“Well, maybe he missed you both terribly,” Linda said, offering an encouraging smile. “Go ahead, open them.”

As the girls eagerly tore into the wrapping, Linda discreetly wiped away her tears. Isla beamed with joy, while Madison, for the first time since her father’s passing, let silent tears escape.

Inside each box was a pair of exquisite Mary Janes and a handwritten letter from Brian.

“Shoes!” Isla squealed. “And they’re pink, Mommy! My favorite color!”

Linda unfolded the letter and read:

“My beautiful girls,

Some of the angels here in heaven are stunned by how gorgeous you both are! They say you are the most stunning little girls God ever created. I can see how dazzling you look today. But Daddy wanted to make sure his girls looked even more wonderful, so I got you these shoes. I hope you love them.

I may not be with you physically, but I am always in your hearts. I know my girls haven’t been sneaking cookies and ice cream lately