When the picture appeared in the family group chat, I was astounded. Doreen, my mother-in-law, looked radiant in a wedding gown complete with a bouquet and veil. I almost dropped my phone. Was she preparing to marry at 70? And to a person she had just met at the nursing home a few months prior? Was this a crisis of the late kind?
“Is this unbelievable?” I held the phone out to my husband, Jake, and murmured to him.
He shrugged after taking a quick look at the screen. “Well done, she.”
“Good for her?” Incredulous, I repeated. Jake, she’s seventy years old. Seventy! This seems a bit…ludicrous, doesn’t it? And where is the source of all this wedding funding? She ought to be saving for the grandchildren, right?
Jake scowled without responding.
I was still furious as I browsed the chat the following morning. The page was packed with more images of Doreen and her fiancé, Frank. At what appeared to be a mall, they were holding hands, giggling, and even trying on similar footwear.
I kept thinking that this was ridiculous. A nuptial? How old is she? It was a bit indulgent. Instead of flaunting herself in a wedding gown, shouldn’t she be concentrating on her health or spending time with her family?
I made the decision to vent to Carla, my sister.
Is it unbelievable that Doreen is getting married at 70 years old? I walked around the kitchen on the phone, huffing. She is also hosting a lavish wedding! If she had to, she could have done something simple, but no, it must be Sweet?” I scoffed. “It’s embarrassing! Imagine her walking down the aisle in a puffed-up white dress like some 20-something bride. It’s cringeworthy!”
Carla sighed. “Or maybe it’s brave. Do you know how many people her age stop living and just exist? If she’s found someone who makes her happy, why shouldn’t she celebrate?”
Her words stopped me in my tracks, but I wasn’t ready to give up my indignation just yet.
Later that week, Jake asked me to accompany him to Doreen’s nursing home. They were holding a small engagement celebration, and he wanted me there. I reluctantly agreed, already picturing the cringe-worthy speeches and Doreen’s over-the-top excitement.
When we arrived, the party was in full swing. There were balloons, a table full of snacks, and a modest but cheerful crowd of residents, staff, and a few family members. And there was Doreen — glowing, laughing, and holding onto Frank’s arm like a giddy teenager.
Isn’t it amazing? She pulled me into an embrace as she asked. “I never imagined that Frank and I would find love again, but here we are!”
I forced a courteous grin. “It’s something.”
Frank, a tall, quiet man with gentle eyes, shook my hand. “Doreen has made me happier than I have been in years, even if I realize this appears abrupt. She really is something unique.
As the celebration went on, I noticed that I was observing them. They couldn’t be separated; they laughed with the visitors, smiled at each other, and teased each other. A part of me felt something, but the cynic in me wanted to roll my eyes. Perhaps a tinge of guilt?
Doreen got up to toast at the conclusion of the evening.
“Thank you all for coming,” she said, her voice a little shaky. “I believed my life was finished when I moved into this nursing facility. I had lost my home, my freedom, and, to be honest, a lot of my hope. Then I met Frank, though. He served as a reminder that becoming older does not mean that life ends. There is still a lot of happiness, love, and celebration to be had.
Her remarks were like a ton of bricks to me. I hadn’t given much thought to what her wedding meant to her because I had been so preoccupied with how “ridiculous” it seemed. This had nothing to do with spending money or acting young. Regardless of her age, this was about discovering and accepting happiness.
While traveling home, I turned Jake grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “She will be thrilled to hear that.”