Dad's Test

As I sat by my father's bedside during his final days, I couldn't help but reflect on his remarkable ability to read people. It was like he had this innate radar that could instantly gauge someone's character, picking up on their strengths and flaws within seconds of meeting them.

His insight was uncanny, and it became somewhat of a tradition in our family to see if any of my boyfriends could pass Dad's test. But, alas, none ever did. Dad was always right—they never quite measured up to his standards, and truth be told, they didn't quite meet mine either.

After Dad passed away, I found myself grappling with the daunting prospect of navigating the complexities of relationships on my own. It was a heavy burden to bear, wondering how I'd ever figure it out without his sage guidance.

Then, just when I least expected it, Jack came into my life like a breath of fresh air. From the moment he entered the scene, it was clear that he was different from any other guy I'd ever dated.

He effortlessly blended in with my family, spending hours on end chatting with my mother about obscure composers, sharing belly laughs with my sister over old Danny Kaye films, and forming a genuine connection with my brother Chuck, who has a mental disability.

I'll never forget the time Chuck, in a moment of uninhibited affection, planted a kiss on Jack's cheek, his hands still greasy from a cheeseburger, and called him by the wrong name. But Jack didn't miss a beat. "I love you too, George," he replied with a smile, instantly winning over my family's hearts and passing their test with flying colors.

But as our relationship blossomed, a new challenge emerged. On the weekend of my mom's birthday, Jack was on his way down from Milwaukee to Chicago when disaster struck. His car stalled on the highway, and before he knew it, another car careened into his, leaving him shaken but thankfully unharmed.

As I rushed to pick him up, a whirlwind of emotions swept over me—relief that he was okay, fear of what could have been, and a deep sense of gratitude for his safety.

Together, we hurried to find a gift for my mom, and it was then that Jack suggested gardenias, a rare find for this time of year. As the florist carefully placed the delicate white corsage in a box, I couldn't shake the feeling that something momentous was about to happen.

During the drive back, Jack was unusually quiet, lost in his thoughts. When he finally spoke up, my heart skipped a beat. "I've been doing a lot of thinking," he said softly. "I might be moving." The words hung in the air, leaving me speechless. And then, in a twist that caught me completely off guard, he added, "Moving in with you."

I was stunned, my mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions. But before I could fully process what was happening, Jack took me by surprise once again. "I think we should get married," he said, his voice filled with certainty. Tears welled up in my eyes as I whispered, "Yes," overcome with a flood of emotions unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. It was a tender moment, one that I wished my father could have been there to witness and bless.

As we pulled into the driveway, Jack reached for the corsage, a symbol of our love and commitment to each other.

Together, we walked up to the front door, where my mother greeted us with a warm smile. "Happy Birthday!" we exclaimed, presenting her with the box.

But as she opened it and saw the delicate gardenia corsage nestled inside, her eyes filled with tears.

In that moment, everything clicked into place, and I knew without a doubt that Jack had passed Dad's test—not just in words, but in deeds, proving himself worthy of my love and my family's approval.