A wounded Vietnam veteran married the love of his life in her mother’s living room.
That man was my dad and that woman was my mother.
Three kids and 50 years later, my sister pulled off a miracle of all miracles. She kept a secret from both of them and we celebrated their 70th birthday and 50 year anniversary. I’m still not sure how she hid it, since the building we used is the one right outside of the park named after my dad. Then there was the gathering of the pictures for the video. My mother is not a fan of people taking her old pictures without asking more questions than the FBI and CIA.
And somehow we got my dad to put on a suit that day, when he said, "I'm comfortable in my leisure clothes." You might be wondering why I haven't written this story.
Two reasons. First, my mama told me no.
And secondly, books come to an end and this story is going to keep going and going. That's the magic of getting married on Christmas Eve.