As the years passed, Lucas remained part of our lives.
I grew older.
School became more complicated.
The little problems that once seemed enormous gradually gave way to the ordinary responsibilities of growing up.
But some things never changed.
Lucas was still there.
He continued helping Grandma Ruth whenever she needed him.
He still made time for me.
He still remembered the little things.
Sometimes I caught myself wanting to tell Mom about something that had happened.
Then I remembered.
That was how grief worked for me.
It didn't disappear.
It simply became part of everyday life.
There were good days.
There were difficult days.
And there were moments when I could talk about Mom without feeling as though my heart was breaking.
Lucas helped with that, too.
He knew her.
He had served beside her.
He had seen parts of her life that I hadn't.
Whenever I thought about my mother's time in Iraq, he was one of the few people I could speak to who understood what I was trying to ask.
He never treated her memory like something that belonged only to the past.
He spoke about her as someone he had loved and respected.
That meant a lot to me.
Grandma Ruth also remained a steady presence.
She had taken responsibility for me when Mom left.
After Mom died, she continued being the person I could count on.
Between the two of them, I had people who cared whether I was doing all right.
I didn't always express my gratitude.
I was young.
I sometimes assumed that the people who loved me would simply keep showing up.
Looking back, I wish I had thanked them more often.
Years went by.
The little girl who had waited beside the telephone became a grown woman.
I finished school.
I began building a life of my own.
And eventually, I met Daniel.
He became an important part of my life.
We fell in love, and before long, we were preparing to get married.
It was an exciting time.
There were decisions to make and arrangements to handle.
There were details to think about that I had never imagined when I was twelve.
But one thing stayed with me through all of it.
My mother's crimson dress.
I had never forgotten her promise.
Not once.
When I thought about my wedding, I could almost hear her voice.
She had said she would wear something bright enough for me to recognize her immediately.
She had wanted to be there.
She had wanted to see me standing in my wedding dress.
She had wanted to walk into the room and share that day with me.
The older I became, the more painful that memory sometimes felt.
When I was younger, I had imagined her attending my wedding as though it were an ordinary part of growing up.
Now I understood that I would have to face that day without her.
I was happy about marrying Daniel.
I loved him.
I wanted our future together.
But happiness didn't erase the sadness of knowing who wouldn't be there.
There was one person I wished I could have called to share the news.
My mother.
I wondered what she would have said.
Would she have asked a hundred questions?
Would she have wanted to know every detail?
Would she have approved of my dress?
I couldn't ask her.
I could only imagine.
Lucas knew how much the wedding meant to me.
He had been around long enough to understand that my mother's absence would be felt more strongly that day than on almost any other.
He also knew about the promise.
It was something I had never stopped carrying.
I didn't need to remind him.
He remembered Rachel.
He remembered the things she had said.
And he knew how important it was for me to feel that she was somehow included.
The wedding day finally arrived.
I woke up knowing that everything I had been preparing for was about to become real.
There was excitement around me.
People were getting ready.
The day was moving forward.
But underneath all that happiness was a sadness I couldn't quite push away.
I was going to marry Daniel.
I was going to begin a new chapter of my life.
And my mother wasn't going to be there to see it.
I tried to focus on the good things.
I reminded myself that Grandma Ruth would be there.
Lucas would be there.
The people who had stayed beside me would share the day.
Still, there was one empty place in my heart that nobody could fill.
I thought about the telephone calls.
I thought about being twelve.
I remembered Mom laughing when I cried.
I remembered the way she had described the crimson dress.
And I wished, more than anything, that time had given her the chance to keep that promise herself.
That morning, as I prepared for the ceremony, I realized something.
I had spent years growing up without her.
But I had never stopped wanting to show her the woman I had become.
Click here to continue reading: PART 4: I Was Ready to Walk Down the Aisle Without Her Until Someone Arrived Wearing the Color She Had Chosen
My Mother Promised She Would Wear Crimson to My Wedding, But I Was Twelve When That Promise Became Impossible
Part 3 of 20
