I’m 72, and life’s taught me that love is what you do, not just how you feel. My name is Martha, and for decades I offered everything—raising my daughter Angela alone after her father died, stretching pennies as a librarian, and helping my granddaughter, Riley, blossom when she was born. Then, Angela died unexpectedly, and I became Riley’s guardian.
Riley grew into a confident young woman. When she got engaged, she stressed about an extravagant wedding she felt she couldn’t afford. So, I made a painful but loving choice: I sold the home filled with memories and transferred the funds directly to the vendors—enough for everything she dreamed of.
But then came the heartbreak: Riley excluded me from her own wedding, citing an “age policy.” I was stunned. I canceled the payments. Soon, everything fell apart: vendors reversed orders, the event unraveled. I held my ground, letting her face the consequences.
In tears, she called me, admitting she’d lost sight of what mattered and asking me to walk her down the aisle. I said yes—and offered to help again, but this time together. We planned a simple, joyful wedding in the library community garden, with real laughter, real people, and real love under the stars.
When I walked her down the aisle, she announced, “This is the woman who saved me, more than once.”