The bride's father had died many years before. When I arrived at the house, there was a memorial to him, his photo with candles set up around it; and, later, the bride carried a picture of him down the aisle in a little charm attached to her bouquet.
And then came the reception.
After the speeches and the performances (her new husband sang to her), she took the microphone.
"When I was younger, I dreamed about my wedding. Some girls dream about dresses or rings or cakes. But the moment I looked forward to, the moment I dreamed about, was the father and daughter dance.
"Sadly, I will never get that opportunity, but I don't want other people in this room to miss out like I did.
"Could all the fathers and daughters please come to the floor?"
And so all the dads, old and young, waltzed with their daughters -- while the bride waltzed alone, her arms stretched out around the father in her memory.
