My Aunt Wore a White Dress to My Mom’s Wedding, so I Took It All Into My Own Hands
Five years ago, Mom got a phone call that broke our family.
Dad’s car had been hit on a wet road coming home from work. He didn’t even make it to the hospital. He was gone…
The silence that followed in our house felt like it could swallow sound itself.
I was 13 then, and honestly? I thought the quiet would kill us both, but Mom saved us.
At just 35, she wrapped her pain in grace and raised me with the kind of quiet resilience that makes you believe in second chances.
But she wore her grief like armor for five years — never dated, never even looked at other men.
Healing takes time, you know?
Still, as I grew older, I started missing the woman she once was, the one who pulled Dad off the sofa to slow dance with her whenever “Unbreakable” came up on the playlist.
So when she hesitated over takeout one evening, fidgeting with her chopsticks before smiling softly, I knew something was different. “Something’s going on with you,” I said. “You’ve been super cheerful lately. What’s up?”
“There’s someone I’ve been seeing,” she said, her voice trembling like she didn’t believe she was allowed to be happy again.
I nearly choked on my lo mein. “What? Who? When? How long?”
She laughed, and it was the first real sound of joy I’d heard from her in years. “His name is Greg. He’s… he’s wonderful, sweetheart. Patient, funny, and kind.”
Greg was a soft-spoken, respectful man who looked at my mom like she hung the moon. And when I saw her eyes light up in a way I hadn’t seen since Dad? Well, that settled it for me.
“So when’s the wedding?” I asked, grinning.