My former father-in-law walked me down the aisle.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think Id end up in a white dress again. After my husband passed away, life became a string of gloomy days, where my only purpose was to breathe and look after our daughtera baby of just eight months. But his parents wouldnt let me fall apart. They welcomed me as one of their own. Quite literally.
They told me I was still their daughter and that their granddaughter was just as much a granddaughter as ever. That sort of thing doesnt change, they said, just because hes gone.
Five years later, his mum came round wearing that particular smile Id come to know all too well. The sort that means shes up to something.
Darling, theres someone I want you to meet, she said, stirring her tea in my kitchen.
Oh please, dont start, I replied, though deep down I was touched she still considered me family.
Hes my nephew. Hes an engineer, divorced, no children. Andhe cooks.
He cooks? I asked, as if that were the only thing that mattered.
As it turned out, he was exactly as shed described. Patient with my daughter, gentle with my sadness andyesbetter in the kitchen than I was. At first, it felt a bit odd. After all, he was related by marriage to my late husband. But his father reassured me.
Hed want to see you happy. And this man is a good one.
A year later, he knelt down before both my daughter and me in the very park where my husband and I once walked.
So, shall the three of us get married? he asked, looking mostly at her.
My daughter, all of six by then, stared at him quite seriously.
Will I still get to visit Nana and Grandad?
Every Sunday, he promised.
And that was that.
On the wedding day, as I was wrestling with my hair and nerves, his mum burst into the room in tears.
Im so happy for you. You know he would be, too.
Thank you for never leaving me behind, I whispered, hugging her.
When it came time to walk down the aisle, there was never a question who would do it. When his dad appeared at the door in his suit, eyes already glistening, my heart managed to break and mend all at once.
Ready, love? he asked, offering his arm.
Im ready, Dad, I replied. Because thats what he was.
As we walked, I could hear the whispers floating around. Someone muttered something about whether that was her late husbands father. He leaned in close.
Let them talk, he said quietly. If needed, Ill walk you down the aisle a second time.
I laughed and cried all at once.
When we reached the groom, he didnt just place my hand in his. He hugged us both.
Youre both my children now, he announced, loud enough for the gossip-mongers. And for anyone curious: this isnt strange. Its love.
The ceremony was intimate, sincere, and just right. My daughter carried the rings. His mum cried in the front row. And as we were declared a family, I felt a gentle, warm breeze, as though someone was sending their blessing.
At the reception, his dad raised his glass. He spoke about the families we choose, the love that doesnt end, and how Id always be his daughter-in-law, even if I now have two husbandsone in the clouds, one by my side.
Later, I caught him twirling my daughter round the dance floor, making her giggle. And his mum snapped photos, beaming with the pride only a true grandma possesses.
Now, when people ask why my former father-in-law walked me down the aisle, I just smile and say,
He was never former. Hes my dad.
What would you have done in my shoes?
