I’m Goldie, 65, and I helped raise my granddaughters, Emily and Rachel, when their parents’ marriage fell apart. I was there through every scraped knee, science fair, and sleepless night. They were my world, and I never hesitated to step in when they needed me. So when Emily got engaged, I was overjoyed to help her plan the wedding of her dreams. I bought her $4,000 dress, paid for the stylist, shoes, makeup—whatever she needed, I gave, even as my savings quietly dwindled. The wedding date landed on my 65th birthday,
but I didn’t mind. I was happy to share the day with her. On the wedding day, I dressed up in my nicest outfit, excited to celebrate. But when I arrived, Emily looked at me and said, “Why are you dressed up? You weren’t invited.” She told me the day was for her friends, and I didn’t fit in. She said,
