Tuesday, October 22, 2013

October 22nd

Today is my wedding Anniversary. I have been divorced for over a decade. On years past, I would look on this day with sadness and regret. But as I sat on the patio this morning, drinking my coffee and smoking my cigarette, contemplating, I realized how different I feel about it this year. It’s not about him, or the wedding, or the divorce. It’s about the day. It was one of the best days of my life.

I was a broken girl just a short time before I met him and he proposed. Shy of a year out of rehab and sober from a terrible ordeal of drug addiction, physical abuse, and wandering without a home for a few months. I met him as I began to rebuild my life. And that day signified a coming out of sorts. A delayed Quincearnera, a Batmitzvah, and a right of passage. A day that said I was safe in beautiful world again.

It was about family. We were all together. That is what I remember most now. How everyone was supportive even though they may have had their doubts. My twin brother crying as I walked up the Aisle, the picture we all took with our family dog Rudy in the house we mostly grew up in, my older sister my maid of honor who pulled my underwear out of my butt cause I couldn’t reach around my wedding dress. My other sister who brought me tea that morning as I sat smoking in my Snoopy nighty nervous as hell.

They all accommodated me even if they knew I may not have had the clearest picture of what I was about to do. They made the day so special.

The ceremony was in an old little chapel in the foothills of the mountains. The Chapel of The Wildwood. Everybody came, even my mom’s aunt and uncle, Uncle Dewey who sang, “Let Me Call You Sweetheart.” My aunt, cousin, my grandfather who made it even though he was sick.

The reception took place in an old winery mansion. My father gave me a fairy tale wedding. That is what is important. I will never need a fairy tale wedding again, because he gave me one. I remember riding to the ceremony with him in my grandfather’s old Cadillac, and on the way I remembered the story my mother told about her wedding day when my grandfather drove her to the church and told her she didn’t have to do this if she didn’t want to, that they could go to Florida instead.

I forgot my bouquet. That was one of my regrets, because my dad had to go back and get it. As I walked down the Aisle, and saw everyone I love around me and in front of me, I was the once broken girl living a princess day. It was beautiful.

Towards the end of the reception, me, him, and my mom and dad gathered in a circle as Forever Young played. It was an important moment. A moment of love, of them letting go, of them being able to breath knowing I was better and that I was safe.

I will never forget what they all did for me that day. And what a fun wonderful time it was. I will remember it until the day I die, on this day, October 22nd, and then some.


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