Instead, I stayed frozen in my seat.
Laura gripped Dad’s hand more tightly. “We love each other. And we’re getting married.”
The words felt wrong—too quick, too rehearsed. I remember nodding, though I don’t recall choosing to. My brother said nothing. He simply walked out.
Later that night, he called me.
“This isn’t right. None of it feels right.”
“It’s grief,” I replied without thinking. “People do strange things.”
I’m not sure who I was trying to reassure.
In the weeks that followed, everything moved fast—and quietly. No public announcements. No celebration. Just documents, appointments, and hushed conversations they assumed we couldn’t hear.
Read more on the next page >>
For more detailed instructions, please click the button below (>) and follow us on Facebook.
