15April2025
Dear Diary,
Today my daughter handed me a handwritten invitation to her wedding. The moment I unfolded the card, I nearly lost my balance, as if the floor had slipped beneath my feet.
As fate would have it, I have been married twice. From my first marriage I have a daughter, Ethel, and from my second marriage a son, Thomas. My first wife never wanted children and was never able to embrace motherhood. Determined that Ethel should have a proper upbringing, I sat down with my thenexwife and asked for Ethel to be returned to my care. My current wife, Margaret, agreed wholeheartedly to take Ethel in as her own.
When Ethel turned seventeen she came home one evening and announced she was pregnant. The young man who was to be the father fled the moment he learned the news. We did not scold Ethel nor cast her out; we simply welcomed her and the baby into our lives. Margaret suggested we register Ethel at our address, so she would have a roof over her head.
Ethel was without a job until her son, little Oliver, started at the local nursery. Margaret raised Oliver as if he were her own, never drawing a line between her biological child and Ethels boy. She loved them both with equal devotion.
A year later Ethel met another man. They moved in together and soon decided to marry. All the organisational work fell to Margaret, while Ethel merely mailed out the invitations.
When the invitations arrived, I could barely keep standing. My name appeared alone on the guest list; there was no mention of Margaret at all. Imagine my astonishment! It left me feeling as outofplace as a stranger at a village fête. Margaret had poured her heart into raising Ethel, coordinated the whole celebration, yet the daughter seemed to have omitted her entirely.
I chose to stand by Margaret. On the wedding day I went to the register office, offered my congratulations to the newlyweds, and then returned home. I did not attend the reception at the hotel.
Looking back, I realise that loyalty and recognition are not giventhey must be spoken aloud. I have learned to speak up for those who give silently, lest they be forgotten in the shuffle of celebration.
