Bride Doesn’t Want Her Dad in Wheelchair to Walk Her Down the Aisle until She Sees Him on TV — Story of the Day
A woman doesn’t want her father to walk her down the aisle because she is embarrassed by his wheelchair. However, when she sees him on TV a few days before the wedding, she regrets her decision and changes her mind.
When Lisa Terrell’s mother died when she was just two years old, her father, Edward, took up her care. Caroline Terrell had died in a terrible hurricane that hit their town years ago, demolishing their home and leaving Edward in a wheelchair due to a severe injury.
Nonetheless, nothing could stop Edward from raising Lisa with love and giving her the finest of everything. He was a well-known journalist and began working remotely following his injury to provide for them.
However, most people in Lisa’s life were unaware she had a father until he paid her a surprise visit at her school one day.
Lisa had always told her friends that her father was too busy to spend time with her, which is why he never attended school functions or parent meetings. However, the reality was that the invitations never made it to Edward since Lisa was embarrassed by him and didn’t want her friends to see him.
She adored him as a youngster, but as she grew up, the image of her father in a wheelchair mortified her and wrecked her relationship with him.
She was confused as she looked at the television and noticed her father sitting alongside the host.
Still, Edward never reneged on his duties. He was always there for his daughter and saved enough money to send her to a top university.
On the other hand, Lisa did not want him by his side. In fact, when she met her boyfriend, Harrison, at university, and they decided to marry after graduation, she didn’t want Edward to be there for the wedding.
As a result, she freaked out when Harrison asked her to invite Edward to dinner at his parents’ place. His parents were wealthy and of the upper crust. What would they think if they saw an elderly man in their home in a wheelchair? Lisa was ashamed by the very thought of it.
However, based on Harrison’s enthusiasm in inviting Edward to dinner, Lisa realized she didn’t have an out this time. So she had to fake a grin and say she’d ask Edward if he was free.
When Lisa told Edward about the invitation to dinner, he was more than just free. He was overjoyed for Lisa for finding someone who adored her.
On the night of the dinner, he dressed nicely in a suit and Harrison’s family received him warmly. The young man’s parents were impressed that Edward had reared a daughter on his own. Besides, Edward had a wonderful sense of humor, and everyone had a great time at the dinner. Everyone except Lisa, whose cheeks were flushed crimson with shame the entire time since the man in a wheelchair was her father…
A few weeks before the wedding, Lisa made up her mind. She confronted Edward one night over dinner and notified him that he would not be on the wedding guest list.
“Dad, I wanted to talk to you about the wedding,” she began, glancing at her plate and moving her fork around the spaghetti.
“Yes? What exactly is it, honey?” Edward inquired. “Is there something bugging you about the wedding, the expenses? If that’s the case, I have some bonds that we could use. After all, I did keep it for you…”
“No, dad! It’s just that,” Lisa paused for a moment, “Harrison and I intend to hold the wedding here in New York, but the problem is that we’re having it at one of the city’s largest hotels, and… I just thought it would be best if you didn’t attend the event. You know, there would be way too many guests!”
Edward’s smile vanished as he stared at Lisa, speechless. “I – I don’t understand…What’s the problem?”
Lisa sighed and fixed her gaze on him. “Look, Dad, it’s just that… The guests will be exclusive, and they’re all businessmen and high-class people. Imagine a man in a wheelchair walking his daughter down the aisle in front of them… I don’t know…It’s just weird.”
“A man in a wheelchair is weird?” Edward’s eyes welled up. He couldn’t believe Lisa was indirectly cutting him off the wedding guest list. But he grasped the cue and forced a grin, hiding his tears from her.
“Is that it? Oh, you’re right! After all, this old age is catching up with me,” he said, faking a laugh. “I may not be able to handle such a large gathering. It’s ok – it’s ok!”
“Thanks for understanding, dad,” Lisa said bluntly and went away to her room. Before dissing Edward, she didn’t think twice about all the years of love and care he’d given her, but eventually, she regretted it.
A few days later, she was watching a show titled “American Heroes” on TV when the emcee announced Edward’s name. She was confused as she looked at the television and noticed her father sitting alongside the host.
Soon after, the camera focused on a screen that displayed images of Edward in a wheelchair and the hurricane that had hit their town years before. He turned out to be one of the brave journalists who had managed to save his family and help his neighbors throughout the disaster.
Edward had a solemn expression as he narrated the whole story of how he’d managed to help people, especially his family.
“I will never forget that day. It was terrible… we lost practically everything,” he explained. “My wife died in the accident, and my daughter was just two years old at the time. As the debris surrounding us fell, I noticed my daughter standing right there…underneath that spot where it was falling.
“I went to save her and took her into my arms, but as I ran, a large section of the ceiling cracked and crashed on my back, causing a spine injury that prevented me from walking again.”
Lisa’s jaw sank to the floor, and her tears welled up when she heard that. “Dad saved me?” she was shocked.
“It was hard for me,” Edward continued. “But you know, you can’t really avoid your fate. So I gathered courage, knowing I just couldn’t give up in life, especially because I know I had a daughter who was now reliant on her father.”
Lisa was utterly embarrassed about herself at this point. She cried after Edward’s interview, cursing herself for being a terrible daughter, and decided to make it up to him.
So on her wedding day, she did walk down the aisle with Edward, but before the wedding ceremony began, she needed to tell the guests something VERY important…
As she took the microphone near the altar, she approached Edward, who was sitting among the guests, fell on her knees, and hugged him. “I know this is one of the most important days of my life, and I’ve been waiting for it for so long!” she cried, holding his hands in hers. “But none of this would have been possible if my father had not been by my side.”
“Ever since mom passed away, I never saw dad saying even once how hard it was for him to raise me alone. He did have hard days, but he never showed me the slightest hint of it. But what did I do? I was about to remove him from the wedding list because I was embarrassed about him being in a wheelchair. Yes, that’s right!”
“If only I had known that dad is in a wheelchair because he injured his back while saving me, I’d have never ever done that. I have been horrible to the man who loves me the most!”
“So I’d like to apologize to him in front of everyone today. I apologize for being the worst daughter to you, dad,” she said, facing him. “You can hate me for the rest of my life. I am sorry.”
Edward wasn’t expecting Lisa to own her mistake publicly. He was surprised but at the same time overcome with emotions at seeing his daughter realize her error, so he forgave her.
“Oh, come here,” he cried, embracing her. “Everyone makes mistakes,” he said. “But if you recognize them and work to fix them, you should be forgiven.”
Everyone was moved to tears and applauded the heartwarming reunion.
It Took Me 2 Years to Find the House from an Old Photo I Received Anonymously
A mysterious box appears on Evan’s doorstep containing a baby photo with a birthmark identical to his and a faded image of an old house shrouded in trees. Haunted by questions of family and identity, Evan becomes obsessed with finding it. Two years later, he does.
When people ask where I’m from, I always say “here and there.” It’s simpler that way. Nobody really wants to hear about foster homes and sleeping in rooms that never felt mine.
A serious man | Source: Midjourney
But truth be told, I’ve been searching for the true answer to where I came from my whole life.
I remember Mr. Bennett, my 8th-grade history teacher, better than most of the families I lived with. He was the only one who ever looked at me like I wasn’t a lost cause.
I didn’t realize it back then, but his belief in me was the start of everything. He’s the reason I clawed my way to a college grant. But college didn’t care how scrappy I was.
A college class | Source: Pexels
While other students called home for emergency cash, I worked double shifts at the campus café, microwaving three-day-old pizza for dinner. I never complained. Who would listen?
After graduation, I lucked into a job as an assistant to Richard — think Wall Street shark in a luxury suit. He was ruthless but brilliant. He didn’t care where I came from, only that I could keep up.
For five years, I followed him like a shadow, learning everything from negotiation tactics to the art of not flinching in a boardroom.
Businesspeople in a boardroom | Source: Pexels
When I walked away, it wasn’t with bitterness. It was with the blueprint for my logistics company: Cole Freight Solutions.
That company became my pride and proof that I was so much more than just a name on a file in some state database.
I thought I’d finally escaped my past in the foster system. I was 34, too old to be haunted by my mysterious origins when my future lay before me. That’s what I told myself, at any rate. But it turned out my past had more to show me.
A man in a warehouse | Source: Midjourney
I’d just come home from work and the box was sitting on my front step like it had fallen out of the sky. No postage, no address, no delivery slip.
At first, I didn’t touch it. I stood there, hands in my jacket pockets, scanning the street. No one was around. The only movement was the sway of the neighbor’s wind chimes. After a few minutes, I crouched down and ran my fingers along its edges.
It was just a plain old cardboard box, soft at the corners like it had been wet once and dried in the sun.
A slightly damaged cardboard box | Source: Midjourney
I carried it inside, kicking the door shut behind me. It sat on my kitchen table, silent but loud in its own way.
I pulled open the flaps, and I swear, for a second, I stopped breathing.
It was full of toys. Old, battered toys. A wooden car with half its wheels gone, a stuffed rabbit with one button-eye dangling from a loose thread. They smelled like time — musty and sad. Then I saw the photos.
Items in a cardboard box | Source: Midjourney
Faded images spilled out like loose puzzle pieces. The first photo I grabbed stopped me cold. A baby’s chubby face, round cheeks flushed with life. My eyes locked on a small, jagged mark on his arm. My breath hitched.
No. It couldn’t be.
I yanked up my sleeve, heart pounding hard enough to feel it in my ears. There it was — that same odd-shaped birthmark just below my elbow. My fingers hovered over it like I’d never seen it before.
A birthmark on a man’s arm | Source: Midjourney
My gaze flicked back to the table, hands moving with urgency now. Another photo lay beneath the first. This one was different. It showed an old, weathered house half-hidden behind a wall of trees. It looked like something forgotten.
Beneath the photo, faint words scratched across the bottom. I tilted it toward the kitchen light, squinting like that would sharpen the letters.
Two words floated up from the smudges: “Cedar Hollow.”
A man holding a photo | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t have time to process it before I spotted the letter. The paper had the rough texture of an old grocery bag and smelled faintly of mildew. My fingers hesitated as if the letter might burn me. But I opened it anyway.
“This box was meant for you, Evan. It was left with you as a baby at the orphanage. The staff misplaced it, and it was only recently found. We are returning it to you now.”
My legs buckled, and I sat hard on one of the kitchen chairs.
A shocked man | Source: Midjourney
My elbows pressed into the table as I gripped my head with both hands. I read it again, slower this time as if slowing down would change what it said. It didn’t.
The photo, the baby, the birthmark, the house. This box — this stupid, worn-out box — had handed me the key to a question I’d stopped asking myself years ago: “Who are you?”
That night, I sat at my desk with the photo pinned beneath my fingers. I scanned it, enlarged it, and ran it through cheap online tools that promised “enhancement” but only made it worse.
A frustrated man working on a laptop | Source: Midjourney
Every blurry line made me angrier. Every click of the mouse felt like I was pushing further from the truth.
Weeks passed. My search history turned into a rabbit hole of maps, old county registries, and forum posts full of strangers who “knew a guy” who “might know a place.”
Every lead ended in a dead end, but I couldn’t let it go. So I hired professionals. Real investigators with access to records I couldn’t touch.
A detective | Source: Pexels
I told myself it was just curiosity. Just a little unfinished business. But I knew better. I knew I wouldn’t stop.
Months passed. The investigators burned through my savings, but I didn’t care. I was chasing something bigger than logic. I stopped taking client calls and ducked out of friend meetups. People asked if I was sick. I wasn’t sick; I was consumed.
Two years later, my phone buzzed at 2:16 p.m. I answered before the second ring.
A man holding a cell phone | Source: Pexels
“You’re not gonna believe this,” said the investigator. “Cedar Hollow. It’s real, and I found it. It’s a house about 130 miles from you. I’m texting you the address.”
I hung up, hands gripping the phone so tight it squeaked.
It was real… the text with the address flashed up on my screen, followed shortly by a location pin. This was it. I was going home.
An emotional man | Source: Midjourney
I drove three hours through back roads and half-forgotten highways. No music. No distractions. Just me, the hum of the engine, and the low thump of my heartbeat in my ears.
The house wasn’t hard to spot. It sat at the end of a dirt road, surrounded by trees that twisted upward like bony fingers. The boards on the windows and doors were cracked. Vines crawled up the siding. It looked tired, like it had been holding its breath for years.
I parked the car and got out.
A neglected house | Source: Midjourney
The air smelled like damp leaves and old bark. My breath came out in puffs of white mist. I walked up to it slowly, one foot in front of the other.
My fingers dug under the edge of a loose board on the back window. It took three hard pulls before it came free, nails popping loose. I hoisted myself through, landing on creaky floorboards with a thud.
The first thing I saw was the cradle.
An old cradle | Source: Midjourney
It was exactly like the photo. The curve of the wood was identical, and the hand-carved stars on the side were the same. I reached for it, touching the edge with my fingertips.
On the small table beside it, there was a picture frame. A woman holding a baby. Her smile was soft and tired, but there was warmth there. I knew that smile.
I knew it because I’d been waiting for it my whole life.
An emotional man | Source: Midjourney
“Mom,” I whispered, lifting the picture frame.
The frame caught on something, stirring up the dust. There was a letter on the table, folded neatly like someone had taken great care. My fingers shook as I opened it.
“Someday you will come here, son, and you will find all this.”
I sank onto the floor, my back to the wall.
A man reading a letter | Source: Midjourney
My eyes ran over every word, etching them into my mind.
“I am very sick. Your father left me, and I have no relatives. Just like you will not have any, since there’s no way I can keep you now. I’m so sorry, my angel. Be strong and know that I had no other choice. I love you.”
My tears hit the paper.
A letter | Source: Pexels
I tried to wipe them away, but they left faint stains on the ink. I read it again. Then again.
“I love you.” I wiped the dust off the picture and stared at my mother’s face. I had her eyes and her chin, her letter, and her love, but it wasn’t enough.
Grief only drowns you if you stay under too long. I stayed under for a week, maybe two. Then I did something I never thought I’d do.
A determined man | Source: Midjourney
I called a construction crew.
The first day, they thought I was nuts. The place was a wreck, a “tear-down” as one guy put it. But I shook my head.
“We rebuild it. Everything.”
So, they put in new walls, new windows, and new floors. I took out a loan and worked like a man possessed to make it happen, but it was worth it.
A house | Source: Midjourney
One year later, I stood on the front porch, hands on my hips. The air smelled like fresh pine and clean paint.
But not everything was new.
I kept the cradle. I cleaned it by hand, sanding the rough edges, and staining it until it gleamed. I also kept the photo of her and me and put it on the mantel.
A mantel | Source: Pexels
It took me a lifetime to find it, but I was finally home.
Here’s another story: When Lucy moves into her childhood home, she hopes for a fresh start after her painful divorce. But cryptic comments from her neighbors about the attic stir her unease. The devastating betrayal she discovers up there forces her to flee the house.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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