I Wasn’t Invited To My Daughter’s Wedding In Paris – The Same Wedding I Helped Pay For. She Told Me By Email: “If You Wanna Be A Part Of It, You Can Watch Through The Google Earth Window, Lol.”So I Just Said, “Sure. Enjoy Your Big Day.” The Next Morning, She Wouldn’t Stop Calling Me.
But Me? I Was Way Too BUSY TO PICK UP…
MY DAUGHTER EMAILED ME: “DON’T COME TO MY WEDDING. WATCH THROUGH LIVESTREAM.” OK, I KNEW WHAT TO DO.
The deepest wounds are the ones inflicted by those we’ve sacrificed everything for. I should know. I’ve spent 58 years of my life giving pieces of myself away, only to watch them get trampled on like they were nothing.
Before I tell you how I finally took back what was mine, you should understand that I tried. God knows I tried to be the mother they needed. I opened my heart, my home, my wallet—everything.
And what did I get in return? An email. A god*amn email telling me I wasn’t welcome at my own daughter’s wedding.
The same wedding I had already put $30,000 toward. If you stay until the end, you’ll understand why sometimes the only way to heal is to make sure those who hurt you feel exactly what you felt. Don’t forget to subscribe to the channel and comment where you’re watching from.
The morning I received Natalie’s email, I was sitting at my kitchen island with a cup of coffee, scrolling through my iPad. It was a Tuesday in April—unseasonably warm for New Jersey. Through the window, I could see my neighbor Ted watering his precious hydrangeas, the ones he babied more than most people do their children.
My phone pinged with a notification, and there it was—my daughter’s name in bold. I remember smiling before I opened it. Things had been tense between us lately.
Arguments about wedding plans, about her fiancé Marcel—who I never trusted—about the money. But wedding planning is stressful for everyone. I told myself we’d work through it.
Mom,
the email began. No, dear mom, no. Hi, Mom.
Just Mom. Like a label on a file. We’ve finalized the guest list for the Paris ceremony.
And after discussing it with Marcel and his family, we think it’s best if you join us via live stream instead of in person. Marcel’s mother has strong opinions about the intimate nature of the ceremony, and we want to respect her wishes. I read it twice, my coffee growing cold beside me.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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