When we found out Dori was having our second grandchild, I preached to her, same as when Pearce was born, give them their own name. Don't name them Jr. or the III or just plain Frank, like what Pearce ended up with as a first name. And her Dad, Donald, preached the same thing. Give them individuality - even though we named both Derrick and Dori after Donald, his second name and theirs also. Derrick is Derrick Ray and Dori is Dori Rhea.
So they went about looking for the perfect name as all parents do and they came up with Cole, another really cool name like Pearce. But they couldn't think of a name to go with it, so on the day Cole was born he still did not have a second name.
On the third day of Dori and Cole's stay at the hospital, we went to visit and Dori told us she had signed the birth certificate. They had named him Donald Cole. I immediately gulped and broke out into tears, which in turn did Dori. She was crying because she thought I was upset about giving him just plain Donald as a name and once again naming him after someone. I was so absolutely blown away with love-abiding emotion and honor that the poring of tears was unpreventable and this has become a top 5 joyous moment.
Then this past spring break Pearce and Cole stayed with us for about 4 days and while Cole was here, for some insane reason, he told us he wanted to be called Donald from now on. We'll probably never hear that again because I think he was especially enamored with his Ada (all the guy stuff they were doing) but the joy goes on.
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Oh man, I remember that moment. Pain! First, I cried, which shook my stitched up belly, then I laughed, which hurt worse!
He's amazing. I'm so proud of who he is. A perfect namesake.
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