Time moved forward, even when I wasn't ready for it.
I grew older.
I finished school, made friends, experienced disappointments, and slowly began building a life of my own.
But there was always one person missing from the important moments.
My mother.
Every birthday reminded me of her.
Every school achievement made me wish she could have been there.
Whenever something wonderful happened, I still had the instinct to reach for my phone and call her.
Then I remembered.
She wasn't going to answer.
Grandma Ruth grew older, too.
She remained my strongest support, and I knew how much she had sacrificed to raise me after Mom died.
I tried to make her proud.
I studied hard, found work, and did my best to become the kind of woman my mother would have wanted me to be.
Lucas never disappeared from our lives.
He continued visiting, although his visits became less frequent as everyone grew older and life became busier.
Still, he always found a reason to check on us.
Sometimes he called Grandma just to ask whether she needed anything.
Sometimes he sent me a message before an important exam.
And whenever I came home for a visit, he usually found a way to make pancakes.
I was no longer the little girl who needed help with every math problem.
But to Lucas, I think I would always be that twelve-year-old girl sitting at the kitchen table.
He never treated me differently.
He never acted as though helping us was a burden.
And he never allowed me to feel that I had been forgotten.
One evening, after I had finished college, we were sitting together at Grandma's house.
Lucas was looking through some old photographs.
He stopped at one showing my mother standing beside him in their Army uniforms.
He smiled.
"Your mom would have been so proud of you."
I looked at the photograph.
"I wish she could see everything now."
He nodded.
"She would have loved seeing the woman you've become."
I didn't answer.
Some things still hurt too much to discuss.
But I appreciated that Lucas never tried to convince me that I should be over my mother's death.
He understood that losing someone didn't mean you stopped missing them.
Years later, I met Daniel.
He was kind, patient, and never made me feel that my past was something I needed to hide.
I told him about my mother early in our relationship.
I explained how she had raised me alone.
I told him about her Army service, her sense of humor, and the promise she had made about wearing a crimson dress to my wedding.
Daniel listened carefully.
He didn't interrupt.
When I finished, he took my hand.
"I wish I could have met her."
I smiled sadly.
"She would probably have asked you a hundred questions."
"Then I guess I would have needed to prepare."
I laughed.
For the first time, I could imagine talking about my mother without feeling completely overwhelmed.
Daniel understood that she would always have a place in my life.
He never competed with her memory.
Instead, he made room for it.
When our relationship became serious, I introduced him to Grandma Ruth and Lucas.
Grandma liked him immediately.
Lucas, naturally, decided that he needed to ask a few questions.
He sat across from Daniel at the kitchen table.
"So, what are your intentions?"
Daniel looked at me.
I covered my mouth to hide my laughter.
Lucas continued.
"I'm just asking. I've known this girl since she was a child."
Daniel smiled.
"I intend to take good care of her."
Lucas studied him for a moment.
Then he nodded.
"Good answer."
Later, when Daniel asked whether Lucas had approved of him, I told him that he had passed the first test.
There would probably be more.
Eventually, Daniel proposed.
I said yes.
Grandma cried.
Lucas hugged us both.
And for a little while, everything felt exactly as it should.
We began planning the wedding.
There were flowers to choose, invitations to send, a venue to arrange, and countless small decisions that seemed to multiply every week.
I was excited.
I really was.
But whenever someone asked whether my mother would be involved, I struggled to answer.
One afternoon, I was looking through wedding photographs with Grandma.
She pointed out different dresses.
Then she looked at me.
"Your mother would have wanted to help you choose."
I swallowed.
"I know."
Grandma gently touched my shoulder.
"She would have been so happy."
I nodded.
But later that night, I cried alone in my bedroom.
I had imagined this day since childhood.
I had imagined Mom helping me with my dress.
I had imagined her fixing my hair, adjusting my veil, and telling me not to worry about the little things.
I had imagined her standing beside me when I walked down the aisle.
And I had imagined that bright crimson dress.
I hadn't forgotten.
Not once.
Daniel noticed that I became quieter as the wedding approached.
One evening, he found me sitting with an old photograph of Mom.
He sat beside me.
"Thinking about her?"
I nodded.
"I keep wishing she could be here."
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders.
"I know."
"I don't want to feel sad on our wedding day. I want to be happy."
"You can be both."
I looked at him.
He continued gently.
"Being happy doesn't mean you have to stop missing her."
That was something I needed to hear.
A few days later, I visited Grandma.
Lucas was there, helping her with something in the kitchen.
He asked about the wedding arrangements.
I showed him a photograph of my dress.
He studied it and smiled.
"Your mother would have loved that."
I put the photograph away.
Then, almost without thinking, I said something I hadn't mentioned in years.
"I still wish she could wear that crimson dress."
Lucas became quiet.
For a moment, he looked down at the table.
Then he nodded.
"She remembered that promise."
I looked at him.
"What?"
He quickly smiled.
"Nothing, sweetheart. Just something I remember."
At the time, I didn't think much of his response.
I had no idea that he was carrying something from my mother that had been waiting for this exact moment.
Something he had held on to for years.
Click here to continue reading: PART 4: I Was Standing in My Wedding Dress When the Man Who Had Always Protected Me Walked In Wearing Crimson
My Mother Made One Promise Before Leaving for Iraq, and I Held on to It Long After She Was Gone
Part 3 of 20
