Lucia, arm-in-arm with my beloved father, waiting for the music to start. I hear the waves crashing in the Caribbean Ocean, and then the music begins, signaling my entrance. As my father accompanied me down the aisle, I looked up and saw Malachi standing at the altar.
He looks so handsome and all I could think was, this is it. We made it here and now this is just the beginning of our story. I truly am the luckiest person alive, I thought to myself.
Malachi and I tied the knot on June 5, 2026, and it was the happiest day of my life. Although, there was one nagging feeling I could not ignore. I remember trying so hard to forget about the sharp electric shocks that kept occurring in my left breast.
Following the ceremony, we danced the night away on the beach under the moonlight. It was the most incredible night seeing our families merge into one. My father and I shared a dance to “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac, a song my mom and I always loved to listen to together.
My wedding was on the three-year anniversary of her death, as she passed away from colorectal cancer. While we danced, my dad told me how much I remind him of my mom, and I really could feel her presence with me. At that point in time, I had so much excitement for the future and thought I knew exactly what it would look like.
To understand the full picture, we should rewind to March of this year. I was trying on a new bra, and I felt this moveable but solid mass in my left breast. It was the size of a grape and seemed perfectly round, almost like a small rubber ball you’d get in a 25-cent machine.
Extract — continue reading at the source.
