She looked intrigued. “What condition?”
I said, “If Logan has a place in our ceremony, then I’d like to include Beverly.”
Her brows furrowed. “Your ex?”
“Yes,” I replied calmly. “Just as a quiet acknowledgment. It seems only fair.”
We spent hours discussing our perspectives. I gently reminded her, “Logan didn’t choose to leave you. And Beverly and I ended things mutually—but she also played a part in shaping who I am today.”
Lori eventually grew quiet. Her eyes welled up. “I don’t want to forget him,” she whispered.
“I’m not asking you to,” I said. “I’m just asking that on our wedding day, we focus on us.”
That conversation changed everything. Later, I noticed the photo of Logan that had always been on her nightstand was gone. She never brought up including his picture in the wedding again—not out of shame, but with new understanding.
Three months later, we got married in a simple, beautiful ceremony. It was filled with love, laughter, and promises for the future. No lingering comparisons, no distractions—just us.
After the ceremony, Lori told me that my response helped her realize she was holding on to the past in a way that made it hard to fully embrace the present. “I was asking you to marry both me and my memories,” she said. “And that wasn’t fair.”
Today, Lori keeps a small photo of Logan in a drawer. Every now and then, she shares a story from her past—but now, it feels like part of a life she’s grown from, not one she’s stuck in.
What I learned is this: true love isn’t about erasing the past—it’s about creating space for the present, and building a future where both people feel seen, heard, and fully chosen.