I’m sure you all remember (because how could you possibly forget), Morgan, who wrote me in January to get Team Practical advice about wedding planning in the face of serious illness. Her dad was dying, and she was getting married, and you guys rushed into the void with support, and wisdom, and just the hand holding of having been there. I was blown away. Morgan emailed me the day after that post went up and said she’d locked herself in her office and cried after reading all your responses, and then read more and cried before dinner, and then read more and cried after dinner, and said, “We got more bad news yesterday, and to have such an outpouring of support and kindness from strangers was just … I have no words. So, thank you..” And then she emailed me a few weeks later to say her dad had died. And then she emailed me a few weeks later to say that they had just gotten married and it was healing and full of joy and she was off on her honeymoon and she’d write a graduate post when she got back. She was blissed out. I was so so so glad and grateful that she finally got to have that. And then she emailed me to say her 19 year old cousin had died. Out of the blue.
And so. After all that, Morgan was strong enough to sit down and write. She wrote two pieces. Today’s post is about why weddings are important especially in the face of death, and tomorrow’s post is about throwing a cheap and lazy wedding (or, as she prefers to call it, a cheap and cheerful wedding). I want to warn you that you need tissues to make it through today’s post. Not in the, “I got misty” way, but in the, “I went into the ugly cry” way. Seriously, I got sob-y as I read this. This level of honesty is necessary, but so hard, and so rare. So here is to Morgan, for her bravery – for getting to the other side, and for being willing to tell the tale.
. . . . .
Let me tell you about my last year.
In March, we know that David is about to become ‘temporarily out of work’, but decided to go to Washington DC as planned for 10 days anyway. A week after we come back, my father breaks the news that he has stage 4 lung cancer. Two weeks after that, David’s out of work, thankfully with benefits. They discover cancer in Dad’s brain, and he starts chemo and radiation – his health improves dramatically. David’s return to work is delayed yet again, now they promise September. In July, we take a look at our savings, my job, and decide on a whim to go to Scotland and Ireland for 3 weeks. He proposes at a Neolithic portal tomb in Ireland. It’s wonderful. My father undergoes another round of brain radiation. David doesn’t go back to work. We start to plan a wedding, and figure that March, 6 months away, seems safe, and book the venue. Gradually my father’s health starts to decline, and as does my mother’s mental health. David finally goes back to work, after 8 months of unemployment, 3 days before Christmas. We are all aware that this will be my father’s last Christmas, and everything is hard. He is getting worse, and this round of treatment does not help. Wedding plans are progressing, but it’s hard to get worked up about details. I call my sister home in mid-January for the weekend, complete with a big Sunday dinner with a couple of my parents’ oldest friends, and it is wonderful. My father then dies 5 days later, 50 days before the wedding. I have very few memories of the week between his death and the wake, and I’m okay with not remembering. I do remember that the day after he died, David and I buy a house, and are stuck with possession the weekend before the wedding. We pack up, con my friends in to helping us move, and eat a lot of take out. The wedding rolls around, and it is wonderful. We go on a lazy beach honeymoon (that also includes zip lines) and come home to start setting up house and buying furniture and unpacking boxes. Less than a week later, my 19 year old cousin dies of a totally unexpected heart problem. Mike was the spitting image of my father at that age, to the point at the wake I’d made a joke that as long as we had Mike, it would feel a little bit like young-dad was around.
So. Things were hard. The big stuff was very, very hard. Two funerals and a wedding in 9 weeks for my family.
I didn’t necessarily cope with well with life. I stopped sleeping around Christmas, and finally went for sleeping pills in early January. The panic and desperation in my voice when I called my doctor’s office got me an appointment an hour later. I contemplated grabbing David and running away. I drank too much rum. I closed the door to my office and cried during work hours. The night before my father died, after I left the hospital in the middle of the night, I screamed the entire way home and my voice was left hoarse and raw for a week. I leaned on David – hard – and he caught me when I crumpled. I got anxious more than a few times, and then I made spreadsheets that helped quell (wedding) anxiety. In some ways, having the wedding to focus on was a small blessing – it was a series of tasks that needed to be done, and things to check off when they were accomplished. Unlike watching my father die in slow motion, where there was nothing to do but watch and grieve.
Interestingly, my mother, sister and I all dealt with our grief in very different ways, at different times. Only now, three months after my dad’s death, is my mom starting to own her anger and sadness instead of simply lashing out at everyone about everything. My sister did most her grieving last summer after the diagnosis. I get grief in waves, and I was fine on the wedding day. I teared up for the toasts, but just damp eyes. The next day, after the wedding brunch? Tired and exhausted and hungover? I made it through the brunch, I made it partway home, and then I started to cry. I cried for the next two hours, finally crying myself to sleep in David’s arms – hardly the sexytime nap we had planned. My grief came, in part, from managing to get through the wedding without my father there, and in part because rites of passage really are a big deal, no matter how happy they make you.
I wore my father’s blue star sapphire engagement ring as my something blue – I got a ring guard and it fit well enough. The minister wanted my mother to say, “with joy Hal and I give her to this marriage” but she couldn’t. My sister’s original toast was about my dad, but when it came time to give it, she couldn’t, and told a funny story about me instead. David’s toast to my father made everyone in the room tear up. We made sure to celebrate his memory in small ways on the day, and it helped.
When Meg posted my plea for advice in January, many people mentioned moving up the wedding date, or trying to involve my father in the plans as much as possible. That just didn’t work for us. Partially because up to the week before he died, my mother was sure that he would make it, and partially because I got the feeling that he knew he wouldn’t, and in his mind I was already married. He lived long enough to meet my husband and to see me happy, and for that I am ever so grateful. As David said, “I’d like to make a toast to a man who, although I only got to know for a very brief time, always made me feel welcomed into his family. A man who so clearly wanted to have something to talk with me about he started reading the sports section and watching Flames games on TV. A man who, although he won’t get to see Morgan and I as husband and wife, very clearly approved of me marrying his daughter. A man who, for the last few months before his passing no longer referred to me as David but rather, ‘Morgan’s Hubby’.”
Do I wish he was there? Of course. Do I wish he had lived and suffered through a horrible and humiliating illness for two more months just to have watched me wed? Of course not. Was walking down the aisle myself hard and nerve-racking? Yes! (I debated the aisle walk for a long time, and in the end, decided to walk by myself. David wanted to be at the altar waiting, and I had to respect that. Although a friend of mine, who got married 5 months after her father died and 11 months after his, didn’t give her groom a choice and they walked in together.) Do I have any regrets about throwing the wedding, about the timing, about our choices? Sure, everyone has regrets, but I can live with my choices. Do I regret standing up in the room full of family and friends and declaring my love? No, absolutely not. Life is short and it can be cruel, we all know this, so any excuse to celebrate joy should be taken.
Managing to sandwich the wedding in between two funerals makes it abundantly clear to me just HOW IMPORTANT weddings are. I come from a large family that only gathers for weddings and funerals, and the fact that my cousin Mike’s last family gathering was a happy one? A blessing. I felt tremendously loved by my family at the wake and the wedding, but the joy at the wedding was healing and wonderful.
Talking about grief and death is hard. Celebrating joy in the face of grief is hard. And ever so necessary.
Picture by Kevin Steinhouse
Thank you so much for writing this.
May 20, 2010 4:41 am
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Thank you for your bravery in sharing this.
*hugs*
May 20, 2010 4:59 am
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Wow… Thank you so much for sharing this… Dave’s words about your father brought tears to my eyes.
*hugs*
May 20, 2010 5:01 am
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Oh my; what strength and courage. I cried. For the first time reading APW. I am so sorry for your losses but congratulations on your wedding. Perhaps your wedding was a gift to your family; a happy distraction in what could only be a tremendously difficult time.
May 20, 2010 5:10 am
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I’m so sorry for your losses. I think it is wonderful you have written this; I’m sure it will help others grieving while wedding planning. I’m so glad you recognize just how significant it was that your wedding gave your family another opportunity to grieve your father together but also the chance to celebrate with your cousin while he was still here. That’s such a gift to your family. Thank you for sharing your story.
May 20, 2010 5:28 am
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Great post. I am so sorry for your losses but so joyful for your marriage, Morgan. What your husband said is truly beautiful xx
May 20, 2010 5:31 am
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David’s speech was very special – as your dad was. I am so sorry for your losses. My dad died six years ago, I met my now-husband four years ago. I wish they would have gotten to know each other so I understand your thankfulness in all these hard times.
I am wishing you all the best!
May 20, 2010 5:33 am
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Thank you so very much for being so brave and honest to tell us about what was clearly a year filled with such grief and pain and yet through it all, such an awful lot of love.
May 20, 2010 5:37 am
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Thank you for posting this. It definitely hit a raw nerve. My husband’s dad was diagnosed with stage 4 melanoma yesterday and there is no treatment. I can’t even begin to imagine how this will test us. I really hope I am strong enough to support my husband through this.
May 20, 2010 5:51 am
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You’ll be strong enough. And remember to take care of yourself as well as others throughout.
May 20, 2010 12:42 pm
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You’ll find that there are a lot of things that you would never have thought you could do that you can – because there’s no other choice. You will get through it although ten years down the road, you may not know how you managed it. But you will know that you did it together. And that is the beautiful thing. Take care.
May 20, 2010 1:48 pm
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You do it because there is no other option – the only way through it is through.
May 28, 2010 8:21 am
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What unbelievable courage you have. Your story about the aisle walk made me think of what Meg’s Grandfather says about bravery (something along the lines of “it’s ok to be scared, it’s stupid not to be scared. But to be scared and do it anyway- that is brave.”). Congrats on your marriage and finding a partner who will catch you when you need to be caught.
May 20, 2010 6:18 am
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Oh my gosh, I just cried through this post. Thank you morgan for being brave enough to write this
May 20, 2010 6:23 am
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Knowing that wedding can bring up grief from years ago, I cannot imagine how difficult this must have been for you and your family. Thank you for your bravery and strength in sharing your story with us. Sad though it is, hope shines through it. Morgan, I wish you and your husband a wonderful and joyful life together.
May 20, 2010 6:26 am
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Thank you for sharing this with us…. it puts everything in perspective.
May 20, 2010 6:37 am
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Thank you so much for putting the “it’s a cry-er” warning on here, Meg! I saw the title and the warning and brought my laptop down to the kitchen to read by myself.
Morgan, I have oodles of respect for you. I am so glad that you are finding your joy, that you are allowing yourself to live it. I am so glad that you and your husband have each other, that you are open and willing to share these struggles with each other and support each other. My family, too, is of the “gather for weddings and funerals” variety, and while we’ve had more weddings than funerals, our last gathering was the funeral of my baby sister. Now I’ve met a wonderful man and am looking at my wedding realistically being the next gathering, and this is difficult for me. Thank you for the reminder that both are necessary, that this is healing.
I also very much appreciated your acknowledgment of the various ways that people grieve. It’s been important for me to recognize that in my own family. Big hug to you and yours, and a high five to the husband for being awesome.
Congratulations on the rest of your life together! Thank you also for the reminder that it’s important to travel and live and be ourselves, be it in the face of unemployment or death or whatever else life throws.
May 20, 2010 6:43 am
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Morgan, I haven’t read this post yet, but I wanted to respond to it before the tears got worse.
I lost my dad, very suddenly, 3 years ago. The missing him has never stopped, but something about taking this next step in life just makes his absence all the more acute. My fiance only met my Dad once, when he was in the hospital and unconscious. My guy held my Dad’s hand and talked to him, though we were pretty sure he couldn’t hear us… told him that he’d take care of me, that he was sorry they hadn’t gotten to meet earlier.
It was the sweetest and hardest thing to watch.
Anyway, the ugly cry is going to be on me soon, but I wanted to thank you for sharing and for dealing this topicon APW.
I also wanted to share a few lines from a poem (“From Blossoms”) that we were thinking about having read at our wedding. We ended up choosing something else, but to me, it really speaks of how weddings are part of the human experience, and therefore inextricably linked to death… not to be all morbid, but weddings are a celebration of life and of loving as long as you are alive… which becomes only more precious and sweet when you know how fleeting it all is.
There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.
- Li-Young Lee
May 20, 2010 7:01 am
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Thanks for sharing this poem! Li-Young Lee is one of my favorite poets, but I had missed this one somehow. I might use it in my own wedding.
May 21, 2010 12:09 am
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That is one of my all-time favorite poems. I have it printed out and on the wall in my office.
May 24, 2010 11:36 am
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Thank you so much for writing this. A few things really resonated with me.
“My grief came, in part, from managing to get through the wedding without my father there, and in part because rites of passage really are a big deal, no matter how happy they make you.” My mother has been gone 21 years, enough time to adjust as well as one ever will to the absence of a parent. No one told me, however, how emotional a rite of passage like a marriage can be. For a while, the magnitude of the change had me in a funk, but 6 months out, I’m finally adjusting emotionally (and I was living with my fiance for 6 years before our wedding! I thought I’d have no transition whatsoever. I was wrong.)
“Managing to sandwich the wedding in between two funerals makes it abundantly clear to me just HOW IMPORTANT weddings are.” This sentiment is why we opted to have a wedding in the first place. I needed to hear this again and placed in such excruciating context to remember that the expense, hassle, disappointments, and frustrations of a wedding really are worth it.
Again, thank you for writing this. I needed some guidance back to the roots of my wedding, and this helped.
May 20, 2010 7:09 am
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Thank you for writing this post. My dad survived prostate cancer, despite the terrible odds against him (it’s more deadly in younger men–GET YOUR GUYS AT AGE 50 SCREENED!!). But he did survive. Sometimes bad things just pile up on top of each other in a way that seems impossible…and it takes a while for the misery to subside afterwards.
What makes Morgan’s post so powerful to me is that she can, at least some of the time–because nobody’s perfectly philosophical all the time!–recognize the joy, and the good things in the middle of all the pain. And she can give herself permission to feel her grief, as well. I don’t know which is harder, but both took me a really long time to learn. I hope and pray that for Morgan and David, many big good things will come in their future.
May 20, 2010 7:42 am
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Morgan: Thank you for sharing this, especially now. This is exactly what I have been needing to hear, and I didn’t even know it! I’ve just passed the one-year anniversary of my dad’s passing, and we get married in October. The emotions have been more of a rollercoaster than I anticipated, and this is EXACTLY what I needed to hear right now!
Meg: How do you ALWAYS seem to post EXACTLY what I need to read EXACTLY when I need to read it?
Again, thank you for this post. It’s takes a huge amount of courage to share that kind of honesty at the best of times.
May 20, 2010 7:45 am
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What a beautiful post. My fiance’s grandmother passed away earlier this year. It was the first family death we had been through as a couple and it was extremely hard as she was basically a mother to him. She was also our last surviving biological grandparent. Her passing was slow and agonizing and while in some ways it was wonderful to be able to say goodbye properly, it was so hard to watch her go. Some of the last words she spoke to us were to tell us to “just love each other, always.”
Her passing has given me some perspective on how blessed we are for the family we do have and has reminded me of the importance of honouring and remembering those who have left us.
My 56 year old aunt is getting married for the first time in October and I am serving as the matron of honour. My aunt lived with my grandmother until she passed in the early 90s and it really took a toll on her. I feel equally honoured and petrified that I will get the opportunity to honour my grandmother when I speak at the wedding.
And now I’m crying in my office.
May 20, 2010 7:46 am
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I want to thank you for writing this and allowing us all to be a part. I had to take breaks while reading it since I’m at work and couldn’t full on sob at my desk without drawing some serious attention. It sounds like you had a lovely day that was full of love and honored your father’s memory in an incredible fashion.
I lost my mother when I was 15, and my father died 2 and 1/2 years ago – before I met my mister, and so I know it can even mean a lot just to know that your hubby and father had the opportunity to spend at least some time together. It’s the part that makes me most sad when I think about the fact that my parents won’t be at the celebration – I can handle the aisle walk, the dance, all of those bits just fine. I just wish they had the chance to meet Andy (and him them…).
Again, thank you for sharing – sending lots of love your way
May 20, 2010 7:52 am
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This post, and Morgan, have amazing amounts of courage and strength.
May 20, 2010 8:09 am
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Thank you for sharing this with us.
May 20, 2010 8:23 am
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Thank you Morgan for sharing this. We’ve dealt with so much serious illness in our family since our engagement, but luckily not the grief of loss. But the choice to focus on the wedding has been healing, though at times very very difficult. Your post had me crying and in awe of your strength and will. Please accept my condolences and my hopes for a beautiful life with your new husband.
May 20, 2010 8:39 am
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I’m so sorry for your loss. Cherish your love & each other, sounds like you have an amazing partnership with your husband and that your father knew you were in good hands before he passed.
May 20, 2010 8:41 am
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Thank you so much for sharing your story. It is an incredibly brave this to do. I know it will help many APW readers face similar losses. Thank you and I am very sorry for you losses.
May 20, 2010 8:50 am
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It’s not an easy thing to share something like this, and I know it can be especially difficult to write it all down and have the whole story turned into concrete words for others to read and for you to revisit. But I hope that writing it brought you some measure of peace with your decisions, as I know that facing an emotionally complex time head-on can be really challenging but also fulfilling. You are very brave to tell us this story and to open up and be vulnerable, and I really admire you for that. You made your choices because you believed they were the right ones, and one should never regret that – plus it sounds like you handled everything amazingly well :).
And as you mention, in the midst of grief, recognizing – and embracing – happiness can do wonders and is oh so healthy.
Thank you.
- Bret
May 20, 2010 8:58 am
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i think this is a great example of how good things can come even out of hard times, and the importance of taking the time to really enjoy having the people you love around you. the biggest losses i’ve had thus far were having my grandparents die in a succession of years between when i was 14 and 18, all of whom i was very close with. it’s not the same of course as losing your parents, but my mom’s parents were like pseudo-parents to me. of course, i remember how hard it was losing them, and how devastated we were. i remember just crying and crying and thinking i would never be able to stop crying… but you know what else i remember? even now, years later, i remember the enveloping feeling of love i had from having our family members gather around us, and express their kindness to us during such a hard time. it’s so important to remember those moments… those are the moments that keep us going through the bad stuff.
May 20, 2010 9:18 am
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Morgan, I am so sorry for your loss and have so much admiration for your strength and willingness to share your story.
May 20, 2010 9:18 am
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I’ve never commented before but this post is so relevant that I feel compelled to do so.
Thank you for posting this! My dad died three weeks ago and my wedding is in three weeks so it’s useful to see the experience of someone else in a similar situation. The wedding is in the backyard of our house which I am so grateful my dad was able to visit last Spring as we were in the process of buying it and before he got too sick to travel out here again.
May 20, 2010 9:20 am
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Morgan, thank you so very much for this post. You are so right, of course, about the importance of weddings and joyful gatherings. And, wow, am I sorry to hear about what you and your family are enduring. Very best wishes to you all.
Thank you, especially, for the details of David’s toast. My fiancee’s amazing mother died in January, three months after we got engaged (an even she was able to attend, thankfully), and we’ll be married in September. I’ve been thinking about how best to honor her, and this has been thought-provoking, to say the least. Thank you, again, and I wish you comfort and beauty and sparkly happiness.
May 20, 2010 9:49 am
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Oops, *fiance*. Apologies.
May 20, 2010 9:49 am
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I wish you peace.
May 20, 2010 9:50 am
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Beautifully written. I’m so sorry for your losses. It’s so hard. But, congratulations on your marriage and your house and the beginning of a beautiful life. Cycles.
My last words to my grandmother were “please live to be at the wedding.” She didn’t, but I know she will be there in my heart. I wrote a post about it here: http://www.verhext.com/call-it-a-ritual
“What I realized, though, was that with all the death and funerals and low-point-of-the-cycle-of-life ceremonies this year, my family-tribe NEEDS a wedding, needs something bigger than an announcement or an elopement, needs to get together and feel love together and eat and talk and be in my woods, my woods that feels more healing and amazing and magical than almost anywhere I’ve been.”
May 20, 2010 10:18 am
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Thank you. My mother passed away last friday, and while we still have a year-plus before our wedding, I’ve been grappling … hard … with the concept of trying to be happy and plan this and get married, while knowing she won’t be there. The one person who has ALWAYS been there, won’t be there. She and my fiance were close … and this is painful for him as well, but he’s been wonderful in helping me and knowing that when I talk wedding right now, it’s because I need something … ANYTHING else to think about. And you’re right, the tasking helps. A lot. It’s something to focus on. I feel guilty about it, but as my father and stepfather both told me, it’s important for me to do this … important for them, important for her, important for us.
I saw others have said this is the most relevant post … and it is. For many reasons. It helps ease the guilt, it helps us relate, it allows us to know what we’re doing is for a good reason. It makes wanting to be happy when happy doesn’t seem like an option OK. I didn’t cry while reading this … mostly because I’m cried out. But it made me feel a little more human, a little less like a drone.
May 20, 2010 11:04 am
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Morgan, I’m so grateful to you for this post. Do you remember me? I posted the long, long story of my own that is so similar to yours in the comments on your last post. My dad died last November, and my wedding is coming up.. just 58 days from today. I have so many uncertainties and emotions about how my grief and emotions will unfold on my wedding day. Your post shed some light on some possibilities. Sometimes I am able to muster up the emotional energy to think about ways to honor my dad during the wedding, and other times I just can’t get through it. We’ll see how it goes.. I hope that I can be as strong as you have been.
Wishing you and your family more good days,
Jamie
May 20, 2010 11:04 am
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Wow, that beautiful post is more about what marriage really is than any other wedding story I’ve ever read. It’s about going through life’s hills and valleys, including the really really tough valleys, together…. and emerging stronger than you would alone. What strength from the bride and the entire family. Thank you for sharing this beautiful, yet sad story. My condolences on your loss and congratulations on your marriage.
May 20, 2010 11:15 am
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Morgan, I’m so sorry for your loss. You are so brave & admirable for sharing your story here. It seems like you handled everything perfectly & everything worked out as it was meant to be even if it seems imperfect. A little excerpt from a Kahlil Gibrain poem about sorrow & joy:
When you are joyous, look deep into
your heart and you shall find it is only that
which has given you sorrow that is giving
you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in
your heart, and you shall see that in truth
you are weeping for that which has been
your delight.
HUGS to you!!!
May 20, 2010 11:16 am
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“Talking about grief and death is hard. Celebrating joy in the face of grief is hard. And ever so necessary.”
That ending quote in particular is just so, so true, and not just for weddings. Thank you for having the courage to post this, Morgan. My fiance’s brother, Michael, passed away last October at the age of 35, and even though it’ll have been almost a year since his death when we have our wedding, it’s still hard to think about sometimes. It’s also hard because Michael’s wife absolutely refuses to celebrate anything at all now…she wouldn’t even let their two-year-old daughter have a Christmas, and we’re not really sure if she’ll even attend our wedding in September. Grief is important and natural and necessary, but if we let grief consume us, it turns inward and becomes something selfish. You and your husband have shown that you’re brave enough to embrace joy when it’s necessary, and not many people stop to think just how hard that can be. I hope your marriage is infinitely blessed.
May 20, 2010 11:24 am
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Morgan, your post makes me thankful for all the various things that life throws at us and how they reaffirm the joy in life, even in the wake of a huge loss. And thank you for your perspectives also. I am always heartened to see that even the hardest things in life can be endured, and that just being human allows us to still love deeply in the face of terrible grief. I am looking forward to reading your post tomorrow, but thanks for sharing this with all of us- a healing thing to do, for everyone here, I think.
May 20, 2010 11:49 am
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Thank you so much for this post, Morgan – and for sharing the details of your beautiful ceremony. I cried in my cubicle.
Your observation that “Managing to sandwich the wedding in between two funerals makes it abundantly clear to me just HOW IMPORTANT weddings are” really resonated with me. I also come from a large weddings+funerals family, and at our wedding it was so joyful to be together for a happy occasion – you really don’t know how many chances you’ll have.
May 20, 2010 11:49 am
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This is beautifully written. The love for and from your family rings through with every word. I am so glad that you decided to take the chances you did — with your choices to travel together and to go forward with your wedding during such sad and uncertain times. These choices to live your life together even in the face of death and uncertainty will serve you both well as you grow together.
May 20, 2010 12:16 pm
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you’re so very brave.
May 20, 2010 12:30 pm
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This story definitely made me cry over my cereal this morning. I think the way you could articulate your feelings is really impressive. Thank you for sharing!
I lost my dad a couple years ago, totally unexpected. I wasn’t engaged at the time..but got married last summer. So, my emotions weren’t as raw at our wedding over the loss. But it was still sad to not have him there.
I love the Gibran quote shared above…so true.
I think time does heal, as do good memories, and family support. Kudos to you both for having the wedding and celebrating happy things despite the sadness of the loss.
May 20, 2010 12:41 pm
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I just want to give you a giant hug.
May 20, 2010 1:04 pm
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Your husband’s words at your reception were so thoughtful. I am so so sorry for the loss of your father, especially at a time when you are planning a celebration to bring together family and friends. I’m tearing up thinking about your story.
May 20, 2010 1:14 pm
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This is so beautiful. I think it’s so amazing, and wonderful, that you went ahead and had the wedding because, as so many said above, the family needed to celebrate something. And by celebrating your love, they still celebrated your father’s life because he gave you life. I think it’s easy to paint wedding celebrations as frivolous, but this is exactly why they’re important. Also, I totally cried in my office reading your fiance’s words. Your father sounds like an amazing man.
May 20, 2010 2:15 pm
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it must have been so difficult for you to write this… thank you for sharing. my fiance’s mother died a year ago under painful circumstances, and she will never see us get married this fall. reading about your experience was distressing but helpful/hopeful as well.
i am liking this blog more and more. it takes up important topics with so much common sense and real emotion!
May 20, 2010 2:32 pm
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I’ve never posted before, but I felt I had to.
Days after my parents announced their engagement, my grandmother died of breast cancer. My parents’ love story is deeply entwined in the relationship between both of their families, and so the loss of my grandmother was difficult for everyone.
So when my aunt was dying with brain cancer during the time leading up to her daughter’s wedding and my sister’s wedding – I asked my dad how you keep celebrating when things are so sad. I will never forget what he told me. He told me that joy honors those who have passed. He said you honor loved ones lost by living fully, by celebrating. He said that grief and loss is not diminished by joy, but it is healed by it.
My parents have been married for more than thirty years. I wish you and David the same and many more.
May 20, 2010 2:47 pm
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Oh, man… my sister’s post made me a little teary, but it’s the beautiful, sad, hopeful comments that have made me bawl for the last hour (something I haven’t done for almost three weeks now). Thank you all for sharing your stories and kindness and encouragement with my family, both in January and again today, and to Meg for giving us a forum to share. Much love to anyone going through anything similar.
Oh, and the wedding was wonderful! M&D struck the right balance of commemorating our father and celebrating their future and just having a good ole party, and I think it was exactly what our family needed. So happy for you, sis!
May 20, 2010 5:06 pm
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First and foremost, thank you for sharing this, Morgan. I am sure that writing this brought a lot back to the surface and that it was, while healing, painful. But it has a certain beauty – specifically in the ways David cared for you – like just holding you until you cried yourself to sleep.
Thank you to the rest of you, too, for sharing your stories. What an amazing group of people.
May 20, 2010 5:18 pm
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I almost decided not to read this post because I knew how difficult it would be for me. My husband and I got engaged December 25, 2008 and it was my father’s last Christmas, though we weren’t sure it would be at that point. We planned an August 2009 wedding thinking he’d still be around then and we wouldn’t have to drive ourselves crazy planning something sooner than that. In early April we knew he wouldn’t make it that long and made plans to be legally wed at the home he was living in the first weekend of May. He passed away April 13.
Unlike you I couldn’t walk down the aisle alone. I knew I wouldn’t make it without crying and I only wanted happy tears (if any). I finally decided to have my best friend besides my husband escort me. Just before we started walking I started to tear up and whispered that he’d better make me laugh before I started to cry. He said, “this is the closest we’ll ever get to being married.”
While I’m sorry that anyone else ever has to go through what we did I’m glad to know I’m not alone in the way that I felt. And I think what you said about needing the wedding between the funerals was so very true. My father’s family is much the same way with weddings and funerals and mine has been the first wedding in at least years. I think we were all overdue for a joyful occasion.
Thank you as well for your comment on how your dad seemed to know he wouldn’t make it “and in his mind I was already married.” I did my best to keep my dad informed on the wedding progress and even brought my dress to the hospital for him to see. When I asked if he wanted me to put it on for him he said no, and I was slightly disappointed. Maybe it was because he knew he wouldn’t make it to the wedding and it would hurt to much or maybe because just seeing it was enough for him. In any case, I think that he was glad to know I had found someone who would take good care of me after he was gone.
May 20, 2010 6:35 pm
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