Nuptial Notes #5: The Wedding
First Dance- 1950s song, "You Look Like a Flower"
As promised in my last post, this is the final episode of my Nuptial Notes series. I began this series from my temporary digs in Southern Illinois where we lived for a month preparing for the wedding of my daughter, Tracy, over Labor Day weekend. I anticipated recording the pre-wedding events and emotions in daily journal entries, intending to convert them to blog posts. Well, that didn’t happen, at least not on a daily basis. Only two of my posted-notes originated from Champions Drive in Marion, Illinois. So, I find myself back home in Orlando, reliving the experiences of last month. It’s almost like taking a photo on vacation. You get to experience the vacation in real time and again by looking at the photo. That’s how it is for me. Words are the lenses through which I can process my joys and challenges. (But, of course, I took plenty of actual photos during that time as well.) This is a long way of saying I’m writing my final note from the desk in my home office as I, and hundreds of thousands of others, await the impending arrival of Hurricane Helene. (show pic).
My writing and lookout perch awaiting the wrath of Hurricane Helene
Back to Nuptial Note #5. Quick Summary: Leading up to the big day, there was the bridal shower (hosted at our VRBO, a bit unexpected);
Gift bag deliveries for out-of-town guests;
Gift Bags created by Katie and Maya
Grocery shopping in preparation for the arrival of our children and grandchildren;
Hauser Family including ring bearer and flower girl
A dog with incessant intestinal issues;
probably intestinal issues caused by all the sticks and deer poop she ate on the golf course
and a rehearsal with at least forty people in the wedding party. All fairly normal pre-wedding stuff. Basically, wedding-prep 101. Nothing out of the ordinary, and no drama, until the wedding day.
No, not that kind of drama. Bride showed up; groom showed up; minister showed up; guests showed up; food showed up; flowers showed up. All good. No drama except the storm surge of emotions summersaulting inside of me. And I’m sure my daughter. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced joy quite like that in a very long time. Friends commented how happy I looked. I couldn’t stop smiling, I still can’t. I awaken many mornings as the sky is lightening (and my puppy has come to sit on top of my head) recounting the moments of that day. I know that all sounds so self-focused. And it really was. I have journeyed through many varying experiences with my daughter throughout her forty-four years. I’ve been her person. And now she has her own person.
Tracy’s dad and I walked her down the aisle. Almost one hundred and fifty people stood as we entered the wine cave gathered to celebrate this occasion. We didn’t take their presence for granted. The friends and family who traveled from Orlando brought a piece of home with them enveloping us in warmth and love. I just don’t think Tracy, or I had ever been the beneficiaries of that much love in a single dose.
As we reached the front, Charlie ran forward taking Tracy into his arms and kissing her. What an affirmation of a good decision. Following the ceremony, officiated by Charlie’s Mom, Karen who is a retired Methodist minister, Tracy and I hugged. In that moment, I felt like we were one again just like in utero.
Other sweet moments… My son’s toast to his sister and his new brother-in-law; our grandson Ru who stole the show as the cutest ring bearer;
and the vases I threw on the pottery wheel (and fired at least six times in the kiln) looked beautiful bedecked with baby’s breath and white roses.
But a particularly tender moment occurred during the rehearsal dinner when my husband rose to offer a toast to his “Bear”.
Bear was the affectionate nickname Jim had bestowed upon eleven-year-old Tracy following our marriage in 1990. He willingly assumed roles I would rather crawl across broken glass naked to avoid, like helping with math homework and packing school lunches. Jim snuck notes into Tracy’s lunch box with riddles like, “What did the teddy bear say after lunch? I’m stuffed!” His glass raised to his stepdaughter, Jim recounted this story finishing with one last riddle. “Why did the Bear go down the aisle?” Because she couldn’t bear to live without Charlie.” While this man did not accompany her down the aisle, he was a dad to my daughter in so many other ways, but too humble to ever take the credit.
Thank you for clicking on my posts and sharing in this experience, dear readers. The act of posting prompted me to be more mindful and to savor each of the days I shared with my daughter in this long longed-for occasion. And to that I say a joyful amen.