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

He stayed there for an hour.

That was how he grieved.

Quietly.

By returning to places.

Now he was asking to stand in Dad’s place.

I reached across the table.

“Yes.”

Ethan stared.

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

His face transformed.

There is no other word for it.

One second he looked cautious.

The next, pure joy.

“You mean it?”

“I mean it.”

He jumped up so quickly his chair scraped backward.

Then hugged me.

Hard.

“I won’t go too fast.”

I laughed against his shoulder.

“I know.”

“And I won’t step on your dress.”

“Good.”

“I need to know which side.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

He pulled back.

“I have to practice.”

That became Ethan’s mission.

The following morning, my mother called me laughing.

“Your brother is walking up and down the upstairs hallway.”

“What?”

“With his arm bent.”

I already knew.

“He’s practicing.”

“Apparently.”

In the background, I heard Ethan counting.

“One.”

Pause.

“Two.”

Pause.

“Three.”