I always thought I’d cry from happiness on my wedding day. More than anything, I wanted my father, Daniel, to walk me down the aisle. He’d raised me on his own and never complained. My mother disappeared from our lives when I was very little.
He braided my hair before school, worked night shifts, and sat beside my bed when I was sick. My dad always told me, “Your life will be better than mine. I’ll do everything to make sure of it.”
He’d raised me on his own.
***
My fiancé, Julian, had only seen my dad a few times on video calls while we lived in Europe for three years. The connection always froze, and somehow, they never really saw each other clearly.
When we returned home for the wedding, Dad came down with a fever and missed the rehearsal dinner.
“I’ll see him tomorrow, when I walk you down the aisle to him,” he told me over the phone. “That’s the proper way.”
