Something blue

15 05 2009

I am so excited and anxious and worried  and sad – all these emotions overwhelming me almost as I am now entering the countdown phase – twenty-two days left if you were wondering.

Tomorrow I get to have the last minute alterations done to the wedding gown that was supposed to be made to my measurements but could easily hold about two boxes worth of tissues in the front, this in addition to the fact I am already fairly busty. I also get to take part in the cake testing and final selection tomorrow which has me nervous as hell because I am not big on sweets and am kind of in the mindset of a plain white cake with plain whipped frosting but then they asked what flavour of fillings and so forth and I am at a loss.  We should have done this last weekend, but didn’t, so now it will be left to me and my taste buds – the same taste buds that squirm about at the taste of salt or pepper.

All of the planning has brought to memory my first wedding – if one could be so bold as to call it that.  My first husband and I were young, still teenagers.  My father was still alive then and as he was on the road a lot, he left the planning and payment assistance to his sister, my aunt.  My mother hadn’t been in the picture for many years as she had ran away when I was younger and my aunt, with all of her short comings and good intentions, tried very hard to fill that maternal gap in my life that I really didn’t want filled by her.  I came from a rather religious family and was very active in the church, but since my husband to be and I had moved in together before marriage, the church had asked me to politely step away from many of the activities like VBS teacher and choir and such that I was a part of.  No one from the church had cared when we were roommates with a co-worker of mine and no one from the church bothered to ask why we had moved out and onto our own.  They assumed the worst.  Somehow though, my aunt managed to get my pastor to agree to give us a church ceremony.

I wanted an outdoor wedding; my aunt felt indoor was best.

I wanted bridesmaids and groomsmen and a flower girl and the full wedding party; my aunt thought it best if she stood up for me and my husband to be’s father stood up for him.

I wanted an April wedding; she thought it should be in January or February.

I wanted a white gown with hoops and a train; what she bought was an ivory skirt suit on clearance from Penney’s.  When she brought her find by to show it off, I should have balked; I should have called my father; I should have stood up for my wishes.  But I wasn’t then who I am now and I ditched my wedding planning folder and buckled to her plans.

We had a very small wedding of about ten guests on a cold Valentine’s Day with a surprise blizzard as a guest.  My husband borrowed a Sunday suit from my cousin and wore his flashy light up tennis shoes down the aisle that we never bothered to walk down in a formal fashion.  I had a bouquet of silk flowers that my aunt had tea dyed to give an ivory hue to match my wedding ‘gown’.

My father asked to walk me down the aisle and with my childish rebellion I told him no, despite his tears and my grandmother’s pleading.  It wasn’t a ‘real’ wedding so why try to fake it by walking down the aisle?

To this day, there is little I regret in life but that.

As I planned mine and Glenn’s wedding, a large part of that planning includes having the wedding I always wanted.  Maybe it’s a woman thing, maybe it’s just a me thing – but I have had a clear vision for decades now of how I want my wedding to be no matter who the groom might have been.  I wanted an outdoor wedding and a big billowing hoopskirt straight out of GWTW and a long train and a flower girl and attendants and my groom in a tux.  It slowly changed a bit, the dress I changed to a lovely Celtic styled sheath and overdress and then changed that again to a simple A-line gown and then once more to a almost toga-esque type of gown.  But the basics were the same.  My friends, my family, my loved ones would be there to partake in the happiest moment in my life since the birth of my daughters.  At least that is how it plays out in my mind.

In reality, I have lost my father to cancer; my mother is still estranged, to put it nicely; and most all of my other extended relatives are thousands of miles away.  My friends are few and of them all, only one is able to attend as she is ordained and leading the ceremony.

As I go through the headcount I realize our guests are comprised of Glenn’s family, Glenn’s friends, Glenn’s co-workers and one of my daughter’s best friends and her mother.  While I was still employed I had invited two managers who truly were almost like family to me, but now that I no longer work there, I have my doubts they would be comfortable to attend.  They certainly have not responded to the invitation.  I guess the good thing is it isn’t on a boat with bride’s guests to one side and groom’s to the other or the whole damn boat would tilt to one side and sink.

I try to find humour in it, but in truth it hurts so badly.

I miss my father and it pains me that he will not be able to stand as he had wanted and give his only child away as he had pleaded with me to allow him to do before.  It makes my heart hurt to think of my aunts and uncles that I love so much who just cannot make the thirty plus hour drive one way to come.  And it really saddens me to know that my best friend is 1200 miles away and my other friends are many hours away and not in the position to be there.  A day that I have dreamt of for so many years and planned out so extensively will be for the benefit of my memories and Glenn’s family, friends and co-workers.

So I sit in anxious countdown mode for the moment I will shimmy down an aisle in a lovely gown and take my first steps onto a dance floor with the man that I cannot wait to grow old with and I play out the cake cutting scene in my mind and our toast and our joyous day but I cannot get over the fact that when I look out at our guests I will not see the face of my father, the smiles of my family or the happiness of my most dearest friends but rather that of my new family and strangers whose names I barely know.  I am so excited and anxious and worried  and sad – all these emotions overwhelming me.

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2 responses

20 06 2010
Jessica Pander

Tia, I thank you for expressing so eloquently your emotions as you did, it was very revealing.

15 07 2010
protogere

Thank you Jessica.

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