To My Mother On My Wedding Day
On March 15, I came home to my boyfriend sitting on my couch in my apartment. He had decorated the living room with flowers, candles, and string lights. Soon after I walked in, he became my fiancé. It was one of the happiest days of my life. We called all of our friends and family. It was a sweet celebration of the two of us committing to spending the rest of our lives together.
Back in March, we chose to get married on the first weekend in January. At the time, that felt so far away. We had months and months to plan. During our engagement, it felt like January would never get here. Now, I am just one week out.
There are things I envisioned as a little girl about my wedding. I obsessed over ‘Say Yes to the Dress’. I wanted to have a fairy tale wedding. While some of those dreams came to fruition as we planned, there was one thing I never imagined being true of my wedding day — planning it without my mother.
Weeks after my mother passed, I was given her wedding dress to hold onto. It is from the 80’s. I opened it a couple of days ago and the bag smelled of old cloth and lace. I pulled out each piece of the dress and the veil. I held it up to myself. My mother was little. I searched through the yellow stained lace for a white piece I could cut off to wrap around my bouquet. I eventually found the perfect spot along the neckline. While a lace wrap might be a common addition to most bridal bouquets, mine will be extra special.
I have found that we often seek to hold onto anything that remind us of our lost loved ones. Most nights, I go to sleep wearing her Ohio State sweatshirt. I often find myself getting red wine for special occasions, just like she did. On my wedding day, I will hold onto that lace. While it may be something small, it holds so much more weight now that she is gone.
When my mother died, I was only 18. I knew at the time that meant my adult life would look much different than those around me. I would experience a lot of big life moments without her. I graduated high school, and then college, without her in the picture. But, it never felt normal. I always seek her face in every crowd. Six years later, I am still fighting the urge to call her.
As I approach my wedding day, I want my mother to know some things. I want her to know that I am proud to be her daughter. I want her to know that I still think of her often. I want her to know that I can look back on my memories with her and smile about them. I want her to know that she would love the man I have chosen to marry. I want her to know that I hold her near to my heart, and always will.
Time passes after we lose someone. As we grieve, we tend to want to fight that. If time could just stand still for a little while, we could heal from that loss before we have to deal with anything else. Life moments don’t feel as happy as they should feel without that person in the room. We are always living in a bittersweet tension.
I know that next week, I will want to look at the audience after I say, “I do,” and see my mother. I also know that I will not find her in that room. As I move forward in my life, I have learned to treasure my memories with her. I have learned that just because she is not physically with me, she will never be absent from my life. It is that truth I will hold onto.
Visit LifeAfterLoss.net for more stories on dealing with grief
Follow us on Instagram: lifeafter.loss
