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, thank you, thank you. I became engaged two months after my Father died very suddenly. I planned the wedding in a haze of grief mixed with hope. Our wedding was a testament to joy and a celebration of all things that last eternally. That’s what it’s about.
May 20, 2010 7:24 pm
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WOW. I can relate on soooo many levels.
My dad passed away from cancer about a year and a half after our engagement, but only 8 months before our wedding. We had planned on moving it up, so that he could be a part of it, but the cancer took him in 7 weeks instead of the 6-18 months we were counting on. I remember waking up one morning before the wedding, bawling my eyes out and huddled in my soon-to-be-husband’s arms because the family member who loved me most was gone. (Wow, I’m tearing up writing this!)
My mom lost it, too, and there was a HUGE debacle on me walking myself down the aisle, and I spent the morning of my rehearsal locked in my bedroom closet because my mother hurt my feelings so badly. I was embarassed in front of my fiancee and his parents, and I was hurt that she couldn’t find a way to pull it together for me in those last two very stressful days. My now-husband was the only person who kept me centered and in the moment for the wedding day. And I guess that’s the most important thing-he is a part of my past, but a crucial part of my future, and I know he’ll continue to be there for me when I’m haggard and when I’m blissed.
Thank you for being brave and strong, and for sharing your story. :)
May 20, 2010 7:54 pm
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PS-I also shared a bit on that initial post where you were asking for advice. And I don’t remember if the advice I shared was any good or not. But 3 months out of the wedding now, and I can see the day a little more clearly, even if it still has its rough edges.
May 20, 2010 8:03 pm
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Thank you for your story Morgan. I feel like I am in the middle of a similiar situation.
My mom had had cancer for three years, was doing well and seemed to be getting better. Then late April of last year she started to tank. My partner rushed to propose to me while she was still around (he was so sweet and asked both my parents for approval) on May 3rd. Mothers Day happened a few days later and I realized that my mom was on her way out. Sure enough, on May 13th she died peacefully at home… just 10 days after getting engaged. We didn’t race into wedding planning like most couples do. I’m getting married July 2nd and this whole process has felt like a disconnect. I haven’t been excited about colors or music or food. Most days, I simply don’t care. I attribute a lot of this to the fact that I haven’t had my mom by my side to help me plan. I know that our wedding day will be great, but it won’t be the same.
Thank you again for your story, makes me feel better in a sad way that I am not alone.
May 20, 2010 8:25 pm
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This post really struck a chord with me. My father also died of cancer, when I was 12. A lot of those emotions stay surprisingly close to the surface, no matter how long its been. And now with the wedding, I’ve been thinking about him so often.
Thank you so much for writing this.
May 20, 2010 9:08 pm
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This post was absolutely beautiful–thank you for being so honest and open and sharing. I didn’t quite believe Meg’s tissue warning, and wound up having to stop and read this in three batches. I am so glad you and your husband could find the joy through the sorrows, and that your dad was able to meet, and love, the man in your life. May the two of you have a very, very long and beautiful life together.
May 21, 2010 12:05 am
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I needed this kind of perspective today. Thank you for telling your story, Morgan. I hope it helps you both grieve and celebrate. Congratulations on your baby family with David :)
May 21, 2010 6:59 am
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Thank you so much for writing this, Morgan, and congratulations on your wedding. From David’s words about your dad he sounds like a fantastic guy, and I wish you guys many many moments of joy.
My grandmother died soon after I got engaged to my own fantastic guy, late last year. We were very close and it was really difficult to deal with the fact that she had allllllmost made it to see me get married, but not quite. But she got to meet Jeff, and we had a visit with her after we had gotten engaged, and she got to see the ring and talk about wedding stuff with us — it really made her happy. She lit up, like most girls do talking about weddings :), and it was really nice to see. We knew she wasn’t going to last much longer and I’m so happy that I got to share that happy moment with her before she died. I hope that you guys had tons and tons of happy moments with your dad, talking about your wedding, too. I completely agree that these big happy rites of passage are so important, just for that reason. What else could have made us all so happy for a few minutes when we all knew we were saying goodbye?
Best wishes to you, and thank you again for sharing your story.
May 21, 2010 9:04 am
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Thank you for all of this. I sobbed through the whole post and it was a sob of relief! I’m planning a wedding taking place in 140 days. Eduard is a beautiful man and I’m enjoying our time being engaged and making plans for our wedding and our future. But as there is so much joy, my dad is dying. He was diagnosed three years ago with pancreatic cancer and his body is just done. Everyday I question whether or not he’ll make it to the wedding. And then the questions keep piling on top of one another: will he make it? If he doesn’t, what will we do? Will I be able to go through with it? Will I be able to walk down the aisle? Should I even have an aisle? Your post left me with such peace and relief and the knowledge that whatever happens, my dad loves my husband and trusts him with his baby girl and that I will be supported and loved by a man who is good through and through.
May 24, 2010 10:53 pm
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YES: “Talking about grief and death is hard. Celebrating joy in the face of grief is hard. And ever so necessary.”
Yes….the reality of grief and tragedy in life underlines the necessity of celebrating love, joy, and life itself. Thank you for bravely and honestly talking about your experience and bringing up something that is rarely talked about in wedding-y conversations. From reading these coments, it’s obvious that learning how to deal with intense grief during wedding planning is a reality many people face. So thank you.
May 25, 2010 7:40 am
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My mother was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer (never smoked a day in her life) a few months before my younger sister’s wedding (5 years ago). She lost her hair the day of the wedding. We bought her a wig. No one noticed. She had fun, laughed, danced, and celebrated with all 300+ guests. We have the most amazing photos of her doing all those things amidst all those happy lovey dovey guests. 2 years later, she lost her battle with cancer.
Our family feels so lucky to have had her for my sister’s wedding. Her joy from that event still feels so palpable.
I’m so glad that my mother got to meet my husband..although we weren’t engaged then, she knew that’s where we were headed. I’m really grateful for the little time they spent together.
I missed her terribly during the planning of our wedding and on the day I felt weepy, especially during my sister’s toast. Occasionally when I see mother’s and daughters shopping together I still get that pinching feeling in my throat. I can’t help but get a little choked up. I think that our grief is intensified by being sort of bookend-ed by our weddings. Although I think that it intensifies my joyful memories too. I think of how much she would’ve had fun at our wedding and how much she would’ve kicked up her heels on the dance floor.
Thank you for sharing your story with us. I’m sorry for your family’s losses.
May 31, 2010 4:48 pm
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Thank you for posting this. I just got engaged April 1st to the absolute man of my dreams. My sister had been living in Australia for the past almost 3 years, but she had finally planned a trip home where they were to meet for the first time (my fiance and her). Unfortunately, about 2 weeks before she was supposed to come home (I was supposed to pick her up from the airport and bring her home as surprise for my mom’s birthday), she was tragically killed in a motor vehicle accident in Sydney, Australia. My parents and I flew out to her as soon as we could and the doctors kept her on life support long enough for us to arrive, see her, and basically say our goodbyes. There was no hope of a recovery for her. The next 2 weeks were a whirlwind of memorials across the world (literally…in Sydney, Portland OR, and back in Delaware) and finally her funeral. She was my older sister and I had asked her 2 weeks prior to be my Maid of Honor.
Now we are trying to cope with her death and trying to plan a wedding. Its so hard to not feel guilty planning the “happiest day of our lives” in the wake of the hardest day (to date) of my life. We are working on ways to incorporate her into the wedding without making it another somber memorial, but its hard. I can’t say I’ve even fully dealt with all the emotions just yet. I go through random bouts of tears, anger, frustration, confusion, etc…
You post brings so many emotions up. I can only imagine how hard it was not to have your dad with you physically on your day. I’m so sorry for your loss, but it looks like it was a day of celebration and happiness while remembering. Thank you for sharing.
June 15, 2010 7:40 am
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Thank you for posting this… our wedding is in October and my father was just dx’d with Bladder Cancer. He has also had a stroke following an exploratory surgery… it is a scary time for my family… one of uncertainty and sadness. I know exactly what you mean about the wedding planning being a needed distraction.. something I feel like I can control, something to have a handle on. My family is apx. 12 hours away… I call but it isn’t the same as being there… but at the same time, I don’t know when to go and be the most helpful. This post brought up so many emotions… thank you for sharing, raw as it might be for you.
July 29, 2010 8:52 am
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Thank you, Morgan. I am oddly and distantly comforted in knowing there is someone else out there who survived..no…thrived on this situation. I, too, am in the face of wedding planning while my father is being treated for stage IV lung cancer. Your strength is an inspiration. I felt guilty for thinking about my wedding, for even discussing moving-up the date. My fiance suggested we continue with our July 2011 plan as a way to hang on to hope and not give in to cancer. The heavy reality is there, though, and our entire amazing, loving, extremely supportive family and friends are ready to drop everything and have this wedding anytime, anywhere.
It’s funny, 3 weeks ago my fiance and I were arguing about his dog bring in the wedding. Today, I’d take 101 dalmations. Nothing else matters except having my family and friends by my side as we join our lives together.
September 23, 2010 10:58 am
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While I am an avid reader of the blog, I don’t comment on anything really. I just enjoy reading about the details of the big day and how different everybody’s weddings are. However, your story brought me to tears (as I was warned I would be). You are an amazingly strong woman and it seems like your father loved that you were with someone you loved so much, and trusted him to take care of you, almost in his place.Your father was lucky enough to meet the man you’re going to spend the rest of your life with, to know he approved and loved him as if he were already family. It’s a small blessing in the larger sense, but it’s one to be eternally grateful for.
My mother died when I was 17, and I always tear up thinking about getting married without her guidance. I am not planning a wedding, and probably won’t be for a few years, but I love this site, and this post is unforgettable. Thank you for sharing your story and giving me a glimpse at what a wedding without a parent is like. I wish you and your husband the best of luck and nothing but happiness in your life together.
September 29, 2010 10:11 pm
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I am engaged and my godmother (aka my best friend and mom/sister combination) is in a coma and dying right now. She was the first person my fiance and I told about wanting to get engaged, and it was her support and excitement for us that really validated our decision. I am currently sitting at my parent’s house, waiting for my mom to leave work early, so we can go visit my unconscious godmother and hope that a miracle happens. I was sick of looking up information on her disease (untreatable and irreversible lung scarring), so I visited this site for the first time in forever and immediately looked for this post to revisit. Meg and Morgan, I hope you both know what a wonderful thing you are doing for people everywhere. Thank you for this, it is a comfort now and will continue to be for many people.
October 15, 2010 10:34 am
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Awwww. Thank you for sharing. Best wishes on your continuing journey of marriage.
November 15, 2010 1:32 pm
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Thank you for sharing this! My father passed away 3 months after my wedding with Lung Cancer. My uncle passed away 2 weeks before that with Lung Cancer. Neither of them a smoker. My dad went into the hospital, was diagnosed, and passed away all in the month of August. With such a sudden movement towards grief for someone I wasn’t expecting to lose, I went on a downward spiral. Trying to use my “wifely duties” and settling in at our house as a distraction. I am still healing from the pain at times, and I’m still trying to figure out why my whole consciousness got flipped when this happened. I used to be outgoing and ok in my own skin. Now I feel as though people judge me and that I am alone. I’m grateful for people like you, who are willing to let others into their lives and realize we are not alone. That the grief I feel, you have felt and so have others.
February 8, 2011 6:53 am
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[...] 20 May 2010: Morgan on Weddings in the Face of Death: 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. 21 May 2010: Wedding Graduates: Morgan and David: Taking pictures and having an intimate family dinner before the ceremony didn’t reduce the impact of the aisle walk and the way David looked at me, the same way practicing the vows at the rehearsal was a completely different experience than saying them in the ceremony. The first was sweet, and the second transcendent. Same words, but emotional intensity was sky high – David’s voice was so choked with emotion he could barely speak. This loveliness, this intensity, this palpable love? That was the only thing I should have been aiming for. I should have stopped second guessing myself about not serving dinner, or not decorating more, or any of that, and just focused on trying to allow in the most joy possible [...]
March 4, 2011 12:03 pm
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That was beautiful. THANK YOU.
May 2, 2011 1:28 pm
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thank you so much for writing this. my fiancé’s father died in january of this year, and my father just passed away in november. our wedding is in april, and i fully expected my father would be there. I struggle daily with the planning, the details, even the imagining of the day, now that i know that he won’t be. I worry about being a basketcase, falling apart, losing site of the whole-soul-happy of the day that i marry my person. i am grateful for your post and your perspective. thank you thank you thank you.
December 12, 2011 5:29 pm
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