When my Nana was placed on hospice care, the nurse gently asked her what her goals were — a bittersweet question at nearly 103 years old. Without hesitation, she answered, “I want to be at my granddaughter’s wedding.”
The medical team, compassionate but realistic, told her they didn’t feel comfortable with her flying anymore. Her heart was failing, and the travel would be far too risky. But deep in my heart, I knew Nana was holding on for me — willing her body to stay just a little longer in hopes of being part of my special day.
That’s when I made a decision that changed everything.
I packed my wedding dress — still unaltered, still not fitting properly — and booked a flight to her. I didn’t tell anyone. I fibbed to my family, kept it secret from my friends. I wanted this to be a surprise — a sacred moment just between us.
When I walked into her room wearing that dress, Nana’s face lit up with a joy I will never forget. Her laughter danced through the room like music, and her eyes sparkled in a way that made me feel like a little girl again. In that moment, surrounded by her presence, everything else faded. The fit of the dress didn’t matter. The venue didn’t matter. Time stopped.
We shared laughs. Tears. Quiet words.
And love — so much love.
That afternoon, with her delicate hand in mine and her smile beaming up at me, I realized this was my wedding day. Not the formal one with flowers and guests, but the one that truly mattered — the one where my heart and hers met in a moment of pure connection.
As the evening drew to a close, I leaned in to say goodbye. She reached up, cupped my cheeks in her hands, and locked eyes with me. “I love you very much,” she said softly.
Twenty-seven days later, she passed away.
That was our final goodbye — and it was perfect.
I will cherish those moments for the rest of my life. Her strength, her warmth, her unwavering love — all of it lives on in me. It was one of the greatest days of my life.
I miss you every day, Nana. But I know you’re still with me — always and forever.
❤️
