Friday evening, while everyone else attended the rehearsal dinner, I stayed home. I covered my table with Margaret’s faded blue tablecloth, lit two candles, played her favorite Cape Breton record, and ate supper alone. On the table sat a ceramic jar marked in Margaret’s handwriting: “Natalie’s Someday Trip.” We’d filled it over the years, and after Margaret died, I’d continued adding money until it held more than $9,400.

I had planned to give Natalie the jar and a letter at the rehearsal dinner. Instead, I decided to attend the wedding quietly, sit in my assigned fifth-row seat, and cause no scene. The following afternoon, Cedar Hollow Gardens looked magnificent. Then the music started. I watched Brandon’s father and Aunt Helen walk my daughter toward the wisteria arch. Halfway down the aisle, Natalie’s eyes searched the crowd and found mine. For one second, her composed expression disappeared. She looked like a frightened little girl searching for her father.