May 2024

The spring sun fell warm across the grass and reflected soft ripples of light from the nearby river. A light breeze carried the scent of fresh pine and damp earth.

Friends and family sat together in the outdoor folding chairs, watching the altar.

My niece sat near the altar in a wheelchair decorated with delicate butterflies, her white gown glowing in the sunlight.

The hem of her dress was trimmed short, showing the supportive braces fitted to her legs.

She had been diagnosed with Myasthenia Gravis (MS) a couple of years earlier. Walking was still a daily project for her, a slow victory won step by step. My brother-in-law had gone through the process of getting ordained just to officiate the ceremony, and he stood proudly beside her.

Suddenly, soft music drifted over the crowd.

Gasps rustled through the rows of chairs, and people turned their heads toward the main house.

Her groom stepped out onto the lawn, dressed in a sharp suit. He didn’t wait at the front. Instead, he began walking down the grassy aisle toward her.

I watched him move across the lawn, my chest tightening with a bittersweet warmth. In every wedding I’d ever been to, the bride made the long walk to the groom, but here, he walked to her. It was the sweetest, most romantic moment I had ever seen. Hallmark had nothing on them.

When her groom reached her, he took her hands and gently helped her stand. She held herself up with his support, standing tall on her own two feet. She had practiced for weeks just to be able to stand for those few minutes.

They exchanged their vows beneath the trees. When the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, her groom leaned down, lifted her gently into his arms, and carefully settled her into her wheelchair.

A sharp ache tugged at my heart. It was a tiny twinge of sadness, a shadow from my own past.

My divorce had been finalized a couple of years prior, and the end of that marriage had been rocky, leaving behind a lot of pain and deep exhaustion.

I unclenched my shoulders and took a slow breath. I was doing better now. Truly better.

I was already living with a few chronic illnesses: POTS and an autoimmune condition. And I had just fought off COVID for the first time the month before. My body had its limits, but today, surrounded by my family, laughter, and endless food, none of that held me back.

The reception was pure joy. We danced, talked, and celebrated late into the afternoon.

Driving home that evening, the open road felt wide and full of promise.

I want more of this, I smiled at the thought. I want to live my life like this.

I was already dipping my toes back into dating. I had just started writing my very first fiction book. And I had two beautiful kids who filled my days with energy. We had plans to go to the movies, visit the park, and spend sunny weekends at Grandma and Grandpa’s house.

I couldn’t wait for the future. I couldn’t wait for all the beautiful moments waiting for me just around the bend.

But I had no idea how drastically my life was about to change in a few short weeks.