I missed my daughter’s wedding. Not by choice—I was recovering from major surgery overseas. When I begged my doctor to let me fly just for the day, he said, “You’re lucky to be standing. Don’t push it.” So I stayed, heartbroken, flipping through wedding photos Ava sent me. She looked radiant. I wanted to be there so badly it hurt.
To make up for it, I gave her something big: a house and a silver SUV, both paid in full. “A gift from mother to daughter,” I thought, keeping the deeds in my name—not from mistrust, but wisdom. “It’s easier to give than to take back if things go wrong.”
