43
ONE YEAR LATER
HALEY
My father walked me up the aisle—or rather, held my elbow as we ambled barefoot through warm sand.
It had taken countless hours of therapy and tears for him and I to find understanding and forgiveness. Like I’d considered at my rock bottom all those months ago, I learned his own mother had been a narcissist who wrestled with psychosis.
Enough said.
We worked daily to create a relationship between us that we had missed out on, and just having him by my side on my wedding day made me realize we had done a good job of growing beyond our past trauma.
Flowers wove through my unbound hair rather than sitting in my hands, and I wore a simple gauzy white dress that fluttered around my knees in the ocean breeze.
River had picked it out for me. Perhaps a bit more bohe
