Right before my granddaughter Maria's wedding, her sister Vanessa handed me a lacey handkerchief and said the bride wanted me to have it. As she hurried off to deliver others, I smiled at the thoughtfulness of the gift. It wasn't simply a hanky. It was Maria's way of acknowledging this would likely be an emotional day.

I wondered if she'd noticed me wiping away tears during the rehearsal the evening before. Watching her parents walk her down the aisle while the traditional wedding march played had stirred more emotions than I'd expected.

I clutched the hanky and remembered the Halloween night we got the call about her birth. We stopped passing out candy to head to the hospital to meet our first grandchild. When the girls were little, Maria, Vanessa, and I searched our backyard for fairies and left them tiny desserts of strawberries, whipped cream, and sprinkles beside the waterfall because Maria was certain that's where they came to bathe. Somewhere after fairy hunts, Christmas concerts, graduations, and earning her doctorate, the little girl had become a bride.

And now she stood before the man she loved, ready to begin the next chapter of her life. As the couple held hands, looked into one another's eyes, and exchanged their vows, I braced myself once again. Somehow I made it through the ceremony with only slightly damp eyes. I even made it through the readings honoring loved ones who were no longer with us.

Then came the time for my son to give the father-of-the-bride speech. I knew he was nervous about not making it through. He choked up during a few sentimental moments, but he stayed strong, and so did I.

Guests adjourned to the hotel's outdoor patio to watch fireworks celebrating our country's 250th birthday. Like a wedding, a nation's anniversary invites us to honor the past while looking with hope toward the future. Afterward, guests lit sparklers. When someone spontaneously began singing "The Star-Spangled Banner," I wasn't entirely convinced my self-control would last. Patriotic gatherings can bring tears to my eyes, especially when children are singing. But no—I stayed in control.

We returned to the dance floor, and the D.J. chose an upbeat song. The bride, her sister, and her parents instinctively reached for one another. I'm not sure who grabbed whom first, and I doubt they had planned it. They simply seemed to know this was their moment.

They formed a tight circle, and for the first time all day, the rest of us disappeared. They laughed and swayed together, no longer greeting guests or posing for photographs. For a few precious moments, they were simply a family enjoying one another.

My son wrapped his arms more tightly around his daughters while his wife leaned into the embrace. They laughed at something only they could hear. Their family was changing, but the love that had carried them to this day hadn't changed at all.

The joy they found in one another was so evident that I couldn't stop the tears from forming. I didn't mind as they pooled beneath my eyes.

I looked over at my two daughters and saw that they, too, were watching. Both were wiping at their eyes.

Maria had been right to pass out hankies. Not because the day was sad, but because it was overflowing with love. Some tears come from loss. Others come from gratitude—for the privilege of watching a little girl grow into a remarkable young woman and begin a wonderful new chapter. Those are the tears worth keeping a handkerchief for.