BRIDE KICKS HOMELESS MAN OUT OF HER WEDDING UNTIL HE STARTS SINGING A SONG THAT ONLY SHE & HER DAD KNEW.

The ballroom shimmered, a testament to months of meticulous planning. Crystalline chandeliers cast a warm glow on tables laden with floral arrangements, each bloom a perfect testament to the bride’s vision. Jessica, radiant in her designer gown, felt a thrill course through her. This was it. The wedding of the century.

But as the guests began to arrive, a wrinkle appeared in the otherwise flawless tapestry of her day. A security guard approached her, his face a mask of polite concern. “Ma’am, there’s an elderly gentleman at the entrance. He insists on seeing you, but… well, he doesn’t quite meet the dress code. And, if I may be frank, he seems… unkempt.”

Jessica sighed. Of all the days for a complication. “I don’t know any elderly gentlemen,” she said, her voice laced with annoyance. “Please, just have him removed. I don’t want anything to disrupt the reception.”

The security guard nodded and turned to leave. Jessica watched as he approached the entrance, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the man in question. He was old, his clothes worn and patched, his hair a tangled mess. He looked, frankly, like a homeless man. A wave of disgust washed over her. She couldn’t have that at her wedding.

“Please, take him away before my guests smell that stench,” she instructed, her voice clipped.

The old man tried to speak, to explain, but the security guards, ever efficient, quickly escorted him away. Jessica dismissed the incident, focusing once more on the festivities.

Later, as the band took a break and the guests mingled, a hush fell over the room. A lone figure had taken the stage. It was the old man, the one she had dismissed so readily. He held a microphone, his posture surprisingly dignified. Before Jessica could react, he began to sing.

The melody was haunting, melancholic, and achingly familiar. It was a song her father used to sing to her, a song he had written himself. A song only she and he knew. He had sung it to her just weeks before he died, when she was seven years old, a song about a little girl and her dreams.

Jessica froze. The blood drained from her face. The room seemed to fade away, replaced by the memory of her father’s warm smile and the sound of his gentle voice singing that very song. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision.

As the last note faded, the old man lowered the microphone and stepped towards her. He stopped a few feet away, his eyes, surprisingly clear and intelligent, fixed on hers.

“Hello, Jessica,” he said, his voice raspy but kind.

Jessica couldn’t speak. She could only stare at him, her mind reeling.

“I know it’s been a long time,” he continued. “I’m… I’m your grandfather.”

The room gasped. Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Jessica’s mind raced, trying to reconcile the image of the disheveled old man with the grandfather she barely remembered. Her father had spoken of him occasionally, a man who had left their family when Jessica was a baby. A man she had thought was dead.

“Your father… he loved this song,” the old man said, his voice thick with emotion. “He sang it to you every night. He told me… he told me to sing it for you on your wedding day.”

Jessica’s tears flowed freely now, a mixture of grief and disbelief. She had never known her grandfather, had never even thought about him. And yet, here he was, on her wedding day, brought to her by a song from her father, a song that unlocked a flood of memories she hadn’t realized she had.

She rushed forward, throwing her arms around him. He was thin, frail, but his embrace was warm and strong. “Grandpa,” she whispered, her voice choked with tears.

The wedding of the century had taken an unexpected turn. It wasn’t just a celebration of her union with her fiancé; it was a reunion, a rediscovery of a lost part of her family. The old man, the one she had dismissed as a vagrant, had brought her a gift more precious than any diamond, a connection to her past, a reminder of the love that had shaped her. And as she stood there, in the arms of her grandfather, surrounded by the whispers of her guests, Jessica knew that this was the most meaningful, most unforgettable moment of her life.

As I was about to drive my wife in labor to the hospital, I received a call saying my mother was passing away

Just as my wife’s water broke, I got a call from my mother’s nurse, and she told me my mom was dying. I was torn and forced to make a difficult decision.

The day Debra found out she was pregnant was one of those days that I will cherish for the rest of my life. We had cried together, unable to believe that we were going to have a baby home soon, and I promised Debra I’d be an amazing dad.

Debra and I had waited to become parents for a long time. We were one of those miracle couples who conceived after going through tons of failed fertility treatments and doctors telling us there was no chance.

“We’ll be the best parents to him, darling,” I told Debra one night. “I can’t wait to hold our baby in my arms.”

“I know, honey,” she’d said, smiling. I gently kissed her baby bump and promised Debra I’d always be by her side.

Debra had always been very anxious about the pregnancy due to the complications, and I had told her I would be there for her, so there was no need to worry.

Little did I know fate would plunge me into a situation where I’d have to choose between her and my mom while was in labor…

I still get chills when I recall that day. It started as a beautiful day. The sun was shining brightly, and nothing seemed wrong with the outside world. I was preparing breakfast in the kitchen because Debra wasn’t feeling well that morning.

I quickly assembled a breakfast plate for her, and I went to call her for breakfast. As I entered our bedroom, I saw she was leaning against the wall with one hand, clutching her baby bump and breathing heavily.

“Honey, are you okay?” I dashed to her, worried. “Should I call the doctor?”

“Gordon…my water…it…it broke,” she whispered heavily, and that’s when I noticed the floor beneath her. It was wet. “Take me to the hospital, Gordon…Please!” she cried.

“Jesus!” I panicked. “I’ll get the car started. Just hang on a sec, honey.”

I ran to our car, grabbing the keys from the bowl on the living room shelf. I opened the car door, then rushed back inside to help Debra.

“Don’t worry, honey. We’ll reach the hospital in no time. Okay, we’ve got this.” I was comforting her as her labor pains began. I was terrified and nervous. I was praying everything would be fine.

After we made it to the car and Debra got inside, I locked her door and rushed to take my seat. Then my phone rang. It was my mom’s nurse, Marla, calling me. My mother had been diagnosed with a progressive cardiac condition, and due to her illness, she was confined to bed rest.

Worried, I answered the phone, and Marla’s voice on the other end of the line broke me from inside.

“Gordon,” she said in a weak voice. “Your mom… She had a heart attack, so I took her to the hospital. The doctors say there is little hope she’ll make it… Your mother is dying. I think you should be here as soon as you can.”

“Jesus, Jesus!” I exhaled a sigh. Why was everything happening at the same time? I was ripped to shreds and didn’t know what to do. On the one hand, there was Debra, who was in labor, and on the other, there was my mother.

I went inside the car, tears in my eyes, and told Debra everything. I couldn’t hide it from her, anyway. She saw my face and asked me what was wrong. And I blurted everything out.

“Mom is dying, honey. She had a heart attack, and Marla’s asking me to be there as soon as possible. I am so nervous. I – I don’t know what to do….”

“Honey,” Debra said. “Call a taxi. I’ll go by myself…”

“What?” I was taken aback. “No, we can’t do that!”. She was drenched in sweat and moaning in pain. “Look at you. It’s just not….”

“We don’t have time, honey…Ahh…call the taxi now, Gordon. Your mom needs you. You are a son first, then a husband. I will manage. Your mom…she…” Her pain was becoming worse.

“I’m calling the taxi. Oh, God!”

Thankfully, I got a taxi soon, and I instructed the driver to take Debra to the hospital safely. My hands shook as I drove to my mother’s hospital, and my tears wouldn’t stop. My heart was racing, wondering about Debra’s condition and if our baby would be alright.

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