One day, as I was flipping through my parents’ wedding album from 1974, I noticed that out of the 23 total photos taken during their wedding day, not one single picture captured just the bride and groom by themselves.

I supposed that when you get married at the height of a civil war, poverty, and political turmoil, your priorities would be a tad bit different.

So I took the closest photo I could find of them both smiling at the camera to Walgreens, zoomed and cropped it, and gave it to them for their 27th wedding anniversary.

Fast forward to 2019, my parents visited me in Maryland, where I took the opportunity of a gorgeous summer day at our local Brookside garden to give them the photoshoot they never received, but this time as 45th-year newlyweds.

My Dad and I both know that Mom loves taking couple photos, even though she will never openly admit it. When you grow up during a war as the eldest of 10 children and had to shoulder the burden of raising everyone since the age of 2, you tend to stifle your needs and wants behind the convenience of other people.

So of course, Mom was a little hesitant at first, worrying that the weather was too warm and Dad would be tired and I would be inconvenienced. But I pulled them into every pose in front of every opportune background, and Dad patiently smiled and followed my direction for every picture, until Mom could finally relax and enjoy the photoshoot.

Because Dad said the day he smiled brightest was his wedding day, and it still held true 45 years later.