After Dad Di:ed, My Brother with Down Syndrome Offered to Walk Me Down the Aisle—But My MIL Objected

My hand stopped halfway toward my coffee.

“What job?”

He frowned as though I were being deliberately difficult.

“At your wedding.”

“I know.”

“What job?”

“The walking.”

He pointed vaguely forward.

“The middle part.”

“The aisle?”

“Yes.”

Then he straightened.

“Can I walk you?”

For eleven months, I had avoided that question.

Who would walk me down the aisle at Cedarbrook Chapel?

My father had been supposed to do it.

Of course he had.

From the time I was a little girl, Dad joked that someday he would walk me slowly enough down the aisle to give my future husband one last chance to run.

Then, eleven months before my wedding, he died.

Suddenly.