AT 78, I SOLD EVERYTHING I HAD AND BOUGHT ONE WAY TICKET TO SEE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE – IN THE PLANE, MY DREAM WAS CRUSHED

The worn leather of the suitcase felt rough against my trembling hands. Forty years. Forty years of regret, of guilt gnawing at my soul. Forty years since I had last seen Elizabeth, the love of my life. Forty years since my own stupidity had torn us apart.

I glanced at the address scribbled on a crumpled piece of paper, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. 123 Maple Street, Willow Creek, Ohio. It felt like a destination in a dream, a place I had only ever dared to imagine.

The plane ride was a blur. My mind raced, a whirlwind of memories and “what ifs.” What would she look like now? Would she still have that mischievous glint in her eyes, that infectious laugh that used to fill our small apartment? Would she recognize me, this old man, weathered by time and regret?

As the plane began its descent, a wave of dizziness washed over me. I gripped the armrests, my knuckles white. My chest felt tight, a burning sensation spreading through my lungs. Voices, muffled and distant, seemed to come from far away.

“Sir, are you alright?”

I tried to respond, but only a strangled gasp escaped my lips. The world tilted, then plunged into darkness.

When I awoke, I was in a sterile white room, the smell of antiseptic filling my nostrils. A blurry image of concerned faces swam into view – a nurse, a doctor, a young woman with kind eyes.

“Where… where am I?” I croaked, my voice weak and raspy.

“You’re at St. Jude’s Hospital, sir,” the young woman said gently. “You suffered a heart attack. You’re lucky to be alive.”

Heart attack. The words echoed in my mind, a stark reminder of my mortality. But a different thought, more urgent, pushed its way to the forefront. Elizabeth.

“Elizabeth,” I rasped, my voice hoarse. “Is she… is she here?”

The young woman hesitated, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and uncertainty. “I… I don’t know, sir. Who is Elizabeth?”

My heart sank. Had I imagined it? Had the years of loneliness and regret twisted my mind, creating a fantasy, a desperate hope?

Days turned into weeks. I spent my recovery in the hospital, haunted by the uncertainty. The doctors assured me that I was stable, but the fear of losing consciousness again, of never seeing Elizabeth, lingered.

One afternoon, as I sat by the window, watching the world go by, a familiar figure appeared in the doorway. A woman, her hair streaked with silver, her eyes crinkled at the corners. She was more beautiful than I remembered, her face etched with the lines of time, yet her smile was the same, the same smile that had captivated me all those years ago.

“Arthur,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Tears welled up in my eyes. It was her. Elizabeth.

She rushed towards me, her arms open wide. I held her close, burying my face in her hair, inhaling the scent of lavender, a scent that transported me back to a time of youthful dreams and endless possibilities.

“I never stopped loving you, Arthur,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped waiting.”

And in that moment, I knew that despite the years that had passed, despite the pain and the regret, love, true love, had a way of finding its way back home.

As we held each other, the world seemed to melt away. The years of separation, the loneliness, the fear – all of it seemed insignificant compared to the joy of holding her in my arms once more. We had lost so much time, but we still had now. And that, I realized, was all that truly mattered. The worn leather of my suitcase felt rough against my trembling hands. Forty years. Forty years of longing, of regret, of a life lived in a perpetual twilight. Forty years since I had last seen Elizabeth, the love of my life, the woman whose laughter still echoed in the empty chambers of my heart.

I remembered the day vividly. The rain was coming down in sheets, mirroring the storm brewing inside me. We were arguing, a petty disagreement blown out of proportion by youthful pride and stubbornness. I had stormed out, my words echoing in the rain-slicked street. “Fine,” I had spat, “I don’t need you!”

I hadn’t meant it. Not really. But the words hung heavy in the air, a cruel echo of my own anger. I walked for hours, the rain washing away my pride and replacing it with a growing dread. When I finally returned, the lights in our small apartment were off. I called her name, my voice cracking with fear, but there was no answer.

The police found her car abandoned by the river, a chilling testament to the storm that had raged within me. The search parties, the endless waiting, the gnawing uncertainty – it had aged me beyond my years. The vibrant hues of life had faded, replaced by a monotonous grey.

Then, a miracle. A letter, tucked amongst a pile of bills and advertisements, a faded envelope bearing a familiar handwriting. “I’ve been thinking of you,” it read.

The words, simple yet profound, ignited a fire within me. Hope, a fragile ember that had long since been extinguished, flickered back to life. I devoured every letter, each one a precious piece of her, a glimpse into the life she had built. I learned about her children, her grandchildren, her passions, her joys, and her sorrows. And with each letter, the ache in my heart lessened, replaced by a yearning so intense it almost consumed me.

Then, the invitation. “Come,” it read, “Come see me.”

She had included her address.

And so, here I was, 78 years old, sitting on a plane, my hands trembling, my heart pounding like a drum against my ribs. I hadn’t flown in decades. The world outside the window, a blur of clouds and sky, mirrored the chaos within me.

Suddenly, a sharp pain erupted in my chest. I gasped for air, my vision blurring. Voices, distant and muffled, filled my ears. “Sir, are you alright?” “We need to get him some air!”

Panic clawed at my throat. Not now. Not when I was finally this close.

Then, through the haze, I saw her face. Her eyes, the same shade of hazel as mine, wide with concern.

“John?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

And in that moment, time seemed to stand still. The pain, the fear, the decades of longing – they all faded away. All that remained was her. Elizabeth.

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring her face. But I knew. I knew it was her.

And as I slipped into unconsciousness, I whispered her name, a silent prayer, a love song carried on the wind.

I woke up in a hospital room, the scent of antiseptic filling my nostrils. Elizabeth sat beside me, her hand gently clasped in mine.

“You gave me quite a scare,” she said, her voice soft as a summer breeze.

I managed a weak smile. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

And as I looked at her, at the lines etched on her face, the silver strands in her hair, I knew that this was just the beginning. We had forty years to catch up on, to rediscover the love we had lost. Forty years to make up for the time we had wasted.

And as I held her hand, I knew that this time, nothing would ever tear us apart again.

Dad & fiancée exclude his daughter from their wedding after she bought a dress & shoes for it

Reddit is the place where people share stories of their life and ask fellow redditors for advice and opinion on the decision they make.

A teenage girl recently shared that her dad and his wife-to-be excluded her from their wedding and she explained the reasons behind that heartbreaking decision.

“I (f18) was always pretty close to my dad. Closer to my mom but I often visited my dad (about 3-4 times a week). A few years ago he started dating “Anna”. Anna and I always got along when my dad proposed I was happy Anna seemed like she would be a great stepmom,” she started her post.

OP said that she was overly excited and was looking forward to the wedding. She bought a dress and shoes, but then her dad told her that he and his fiancée needed to talk to her about something important.

“Well a few weeks before the wedding after I had bought everything (dress, shoes, etc) my dad and Anna said they needed to “talk to me” Anna and my dad decided to have a child free wedding which I get especially for young kids.

“Well turns out child-free means no one under 18. On the day of the wedding, I was still going to be 17 so, therefore, I’m not allowed to be at the wedding because Anna wants to stay true to the child-free rule even for the daughter of the groom and her about-to-be stepdaughter.”

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Devastated, OP told her mom what her dad and Anna said to her. The mom was as heartbroken as her daughter and decided to take her on vacation so that she cheer up. At the same time, the mom told the rest of the family what her ex-husband did to their daughter. Understandably, most of them were shocked and angry.

Later, OP posted birthday pictures on Facebook and wrote, “I’m so glad my dad and Anna didn’t allow me at their wedding since I was under 18; I feel more mature since yesterday.”

“The family was freaking out asking if that was true and bashing my dad and Anna. I later got a bunch of texts from my dad and Anna calling me immature and a selfish brat and that’s why I was too immature to be at a wedding. I was talking to some friends and they said I was kinda an AH for doing that and I should have just let it go.”

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Fellow redditors shared their opinions and agreed that OP wasn’t an AH for telling the family what her dad did to her.

“NTA. What kind of man doesn’t have his own child at his wedding? Anyway, they made the choice, if they believe it was the right choice they should have no issue about it being publicly known. Plus, people might well assume you weren’t there because you disapproved of his new wife or chose a vacation instead. Ensuring people know WHY you weren’t there saves your own reputation,” one person commented.

“The no children was made for you. I’m sorry but let that sink in. She made that rule to keep you out. You now know where you stand in their marriage…you don’t. I’m so sorry. NTA. I personally think it was EPIC. Harsh but epic. They deserved more than that. I would even update it with pictures of their texts,” another added.

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A third wrote, “I can’t help but wonder if she purposefully pick a date before OP birthday just so she couldn’t go. If the dad & step-mom wanted to make it child free but make sure OP was there they could have made sure the date was AFTER OP birthday but to make it just 2 days before….. nah they didn’t want her there & was just trying to use that as an excuse.”

We believe the dad was not right for excluding his own daughter from the wedding.

What are your thoughts on this?

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