“Ma’am, are you all right?”
Celestine rushed forward and steadied the wheelchair.
The old woman patted her chest, looking shaken. “I’m fine. Thank you, young lady.”
Celestine pushed the old woman out of the chapel to a safe, open area. There, she learned the woman’s last name was Madison.
“That’s my mother’s last name, too,” Celestine remarked, a flicker of sadness in her almond-shaped eyes.
The surname made Celestine think about how her mother had told her she grew up in an orphanage, with no memory of her biological parents.
It wasn’t until she met her father that she finally had a family of her own.
She never imagined that their happy life would be so short-lived.
Shaking off the memories, Celestine asked gently, “The old woman, where is your family? I can call them to come pick you up.”
The old woman waved her hand. “I don’t have any family. My husband passed away last year.”
Celestine was taken aback and felt apologetic.
She wanted to ask about a son or daughter but was afraid of being presumptuous again.
The old woman seemed to read her mind and smiled. “My husband and I never had children. Thank you, young lady.”
Celestine continued to push her wheelchair.
She listened as the old woman rambled on about many things.
It turned out she had come to the chapel today to fulfill a promise she made with her husband.
They had met in the 1970s and had only gotten a marriage license, never a wedding ceremony.
The old woman and her husband had made a bet: if they were still together after fifty years, they would have a proper wedding.
They had supported each other through thick and thin for over forty years.
Until last year, when his health declined rapidly.
The old woman’s beloved husband passed away.
But she always remembered the promise they had made.
So today, she had come to the chapel alone to honor their pact.
The old woman had also brought a photograph of her husband, which she cradled carefully in her hands.
She had almost tipped over her wheelchair just now trying to pick up the photo after dropping it.

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