The photo session began. First, only Papa and Miss Kristin stood before the camera. Both smiled brightly, looking so perfectly matched in their soft white wedding attire. Then Papa glanced toward Nathan, who was standing beside Oma.
"Nathan, come here, Son," he called, stretching out his arms.
Nathan trotted over and was scooped up into Papa's embrace. The three of them posed together for a photo. Nathan's smile was faint, but enough to make everyone in the room think the moment was sweet.
After that, Oma and Opa joined in. Then, one by one, relatives stepped forward, lining up neatly to take pictures with the bride and groom, laughing, joking, and teasing each other about family resemblances or silly poses.
But amid the noise and merriment, Nathan's small eyes wandered to the back of the room, and froze.
In the dim corner stood a figure he instantly recognized. An elderly woman, pale-skinned, with silver hair pinned neatly into a bun. Her face was stern, rigid, as if she had come only to watch as an uninvited guest.
Grandmother?
Nathan squinted. Yes. It was Madam Suyoto. She stood motionless, neither joining in nor smiling, like a shadow of the past, misplaced in the middle of celebration.
Nathan almost opened his mouth to call out, but before he could point, the figure turned away quickly.
Grandmother slipped into the crowd and vanished, as though she had never been there.
Papa hugged him a little tighter. Nathan stayed quiet. No words, just the sudden thudding of his heart.
Even without speaking, he knew… Grandmother had come. For what reason, he couldn't tell. But that day, amidst all the joy on display, an old wound had quietly peeked out from the far end of the room.
---
When the photo session was over, the family and guests began moving toward the church hall next door for the reception. Light refreshments were already set out on the long tables, and children were running around chasing colorful balloons.
Nathan was still in Papa's arms. He stayed quiet, his eyes searching the same corner of the room. But there was no one there now, only empty chairs and floral decorations.
"What is it, Son?" Papa asked, gently stroking his head.
Nathan didn't answer. In his heart he wanted to say, Grandmother was here, Papa… she was watching us from afar… But why did she leave? Why wouldn't she come closer?
Yet all that came out was, "Pa, I'm sleepy…"
Papa chuckled softly. "Tired, huh? Okay, let's sit down for a bit."
They sat at the edge of the hall, a little away from the crowd. Nathan rested his head against Papa's chest, though his eyes still darted now and then toward the doorway. Searching. Waiting.
A few minutes later, Oma came over carrying a small plate of cakes and a glass of water. "This is for Nathan, so you don't catch a chill," she said, feeding him gently.
But Nathan shook his head. His appetite was gone. All he murmured was, "I wonder if Mama can see from heaven…"
Oma paused for a moment, then smiled tenderly. "Of course she can. Your Mama must be proud, you're such a good boy."
Nathan nodded, but his mind remained unsettled. The image of Madam Suyoto standing in that corner would not fade.
He felt something was unfinished. Something left hanging in the air.
And for the very first time in his three short years of life, Nathan realized one thing: the world of adults was full of secrets.
And sometimes, those secrets watched us from afar, silently…
like Grandmother.
---
Nathan, still so little, ran around with boundless energy. That morning, he stormed the ice cream stand as if it were his own playground, then slipped over to the fruit table, and finally to the cakes, every corner filled with his laughter and joy. Yet even in his excitement, he never forgot about Grandma Suyoto.
Inside the house, Oma was busy receiving congratulations from guests. The air was loud with chatter, greetings, and warm laughter. But for Nathan, none of that mattered compared to the longing in his heart to see Grandma.
With quick little steps, Nathan dashed here and there until at last he reached the church veranda. There, in the softening bustle of the day, he stood holding a small plate filled with fruit and a slice of cake, his little gift, gathered with all the courage a child could muster.
"Grandma!" he cried out with joy, his eyes shining with hope. His voice was clear, innocent, filling the cool air.
On the veranda, bathed in the golden light of the afternoon sun, sat an old woman with a wrinkled face. She rested on a wooden bench, her eyes vacant, staring into the distance. At his call, she only murmured faintly, "Thanks," as if that one word was enough.
Nathan froze for a moment, then stepped closer with steady determination. He lifted the little plate in his hands, smiling proudly. "I'm Nathan! Nathan Tallo!" he declared, introducing himself with all the pride of a child eager to be seen by someone who mattered deeply.
But whatever Grandma Suyoto felt remained locked away. Her face stayed expressionless, her eyes still hollow, without the spark of recognition Nathan longed for.
There, under the soft glow of the setting sun, Nathan couldn't understand why Grandma stayed silent. Yet his heart refused to give up, clinging to the hope that one day, she would notice him. That one day, she would see the little boy who loved her purely, asking for nothing in return, except to be acknowledged.
---
A middle-aged woman in a beige uniform came down the side of the church, her steps brisk yet gentle. She approached the wooden bench on the veranda, where Grandma Suyoto sat in silence beside two other elderly women.
"Ma'am, let's get you to the car now. Time to go home," she said softly, supporting Grandma's arm.
Without a word, Grandma rose slowly. The two other elderly women also stood. From a distance, Nathan watched, the small plate in his hand tilting, the cake on it nearly slipping off. He wanted to run to her, but suddenly his legs felt too heavy to move.
A white van with the words "Kasih Sejahtera Nursing Home" painted on the side was parked just beyond the veranda. The driver had already opened the side door. The uniformed woman gently guided the three women into the vehicle, one after another.
At last, Nathan found his voice. Quiet, but audible: "Grandma, where are you going?"
Grandma turned briefly, her gaze still unfocused. Without a word, she climbed the small steps into the van, her eyes vacant, whether from not recognizing him, or from choosing to look away, Nathan couldn't tell.
The door shut softly, and the van pulled away, carrying with it a fragment of the past Nathan had longed to embrace, but never quite could.
---