I Sat Alone at My Own Son’s Wedding, Watching Everyone Laugh Without Me — Then a Stranger Took My Hand and Said Seven Words I’ll Never Forget.
The vast, opulent ballroom felt less like a wedding venue and more like a courthouse where I was being judged. Surrounded by Denver’s social elite in designer gowns, I, the sixty-eight-year-old retired teacher, was seated in the cheapest metal folding chair, relegated to the furthest, most invisible corner. This was the final, stinging confirmation: my…