If you’ve ever stood in a moment like mine—torn between old wounds and new beginnings—you know how heavy the heart can feel. And yet, these moments are the very ones that remind us of our power to heal.
As parents, especially as mothers, we often spend our lives putting our children first. Sometimes, that means setting aside our pride, our hurt, even our pain, to stand tall for them.
For in that choice lies a deeper kind of freedom—the freedom to be defined not by what was taken from us, but by what we still choose to give.
As I look back on my daughter’s wedding day, I no longer see it as a day tainted by betrayal or shadowed by old wounds. I see it as the day I learned what letting go truly means.
Letting go isn’t about erasing history. It’s about deciding that love will have the final word.
And so, as she walked down that aisle with hope in her eyes, I walked forward, too—finally free, finally unburdened, finally choosing love over bitterness.
That, I believe, is the real gift of family and the heart of every lasting tradition.
