It has been two years since my husband passed, and I have learned that grief is a kind of disease for which no cure can be found. On the days when life and its living proves harder than usual, I feel his absence all the more. There is no comfort from his embrace, no soothing from his voice.
To keep myself busy, I threw myself into helping my friend Phil. She called a few weeks back, whispering excitedly, “I need your help — Ryan and I are throwing a tiny engagement party. It’s a surprise, don’t tell a soul!”. I became the party planner, distracting myself with pink and gold balloons, fairy lights, and silk flowers. But seeing their happiness only highlighted my own loneliness. Since my son moved out, we’ve drifted apart, so I decided to surprise him one weekend instead of wallowing in the past.
As I approached his house, my heart sank. There was a poster congratulating him and an unknown girl on their wedding. No one had told me anything about this, not even my son.
I tried to enter, but security stopped me. When I explained I was the groom’s mother, they laughed and told me I “couldn’t possibly be”. That’s when it escalated — my son came out, denied knowing me, and instructed security to remove me. His fiancée even pointed to another woman, claiming she was introduced as her future mother-in-law. I screamed, “He is my son!” but the gates closed in my face.
sobbing in my car, I remembered a story I saw online about a mother whose baby was saved because a stranger noticed “severe jaundice” in a photo and told her to “Get to the ER now”. It reminded me that social media isn’t just a highlight reel. Sometimes, it’s a modern-day village looking out for us. I realized I needed my village.
I called Phil. She didn’t ask questions; she just showed up with our entire friend group. We dug into who this “fiancée” was. It didn’t take long.
Her name was Jenna. She had a history. She targeted men with trust funds, like my son. We found a forum post from her previous victim who said she had divided [his] inheritance into categories: “Car, investments, vacation”. She had told him, “If you love me, you’ll invest in us. I’m your future,” but in reality, she didn’t want a partner. She wanted a provider.
Armed with the truth, my “village” and I crashed the reception. When we walked in, my son looked angry, but my late husband’s brother—who was in on the investigation—stepped forward. He looked at the bride. My ex’s family kept staring at Jenna… not jealous, more like they’d seen a ghost!.
My brother-in-law looked straight at my son and yelled, ‘YOU IDIOT!’. He threw the evidence of the fake mother-in-law and the inheritance spreadsheets onto the table. The “fiancée” fled the moment the police were mentioned.
My son broke down. He had been brainwashed and isolated, told that I would disapprove of him, told to cut me off to protect his “future.”
That night, as I sat in the quiet of my own home, finally reunited with my son, I felt a familiar warmth. I opened the book of poems my husband had left me. I read the words, “In memory and dream I am returned to you, returned home”. I knew he had been watching over us. I closed my eyes, knowing that in the memory of my heart our forever continues.
