Enter Greg.

Greg wasn’t flashy. He didn’t try too hard. But he looked at my mom like her grief was sacred, not baggage. He helped bring color back to her world.

So when they got engaged, I was ecstatic.

We didn’t just plan a wedding. We were building a new chapter, page by hopeful page.

But then came the text from Aunt Dana.

“White dress? At her age? This is a bit… desperate.”

And I knew. Deep down, I knew this wasn’t going to be easy.

Aunt Dana: The Storm in Lipstick

Dana is my mom’s younger sister, though you’d never know it by the way she talks—like life cheated her and handed all the good cards to everyone else.

She made offhand jabs at brunches.

Mocked the wedding playlist.

Called the floral arrangements “funeral chic.”