The morning unfurled slowly, each minute stretching into eternity as I stood by the window, cradling my coffee cup. I watched the world outside, unaware of the emotional storm that raged within. My son’s wedding—the event that should have been a pinnacle of joy—had turned into a realization of unspoken truths and lingering shadows.
I thought about the previous evening, the laughter and joy that filled the ballroom, none of which seemed to reach me. I had been ushered to a table at the far end, alone amongst a sea of familiar faces. Each course was served; the waitstaff, in their hurried elegance, overlooked me time and again. I didn’t mind the late service—it was the metaphorical weight of being served last by my son, the groom, that lay heavy on my heart.
