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it's a mystery
Dec. 16th, 2009 07:01 am
Since a lot of people have recently asked to see pictures of me in my wedding dress (from back in the day), here's one! It's fairly low res at large size, my apologies, but here it is.
My father took all the photos at the wedding. It was his wedding gift to us (among too many to count) and that smile there? I'm smiling at him.
He would be gone not even two months after taking this photo.
I'm going to finish the wedding scrapbook. I've been working on it for the last month or so.
The gown is Chinese silk and taffeta. The train was about ten feet long with a knife pleated hem and the entire dress, beading, veil and sewing took me over a year to complete.
I can still remember what it felt like, holding his arm, the wool of his tuxedo over his arm though my white gloves, the incredible heavy weight of the dress, the way I felt. My heart can hardly still contain how it felt.
When my father walked me down the aisle and we walked over the cobblestones of the courtyard, when the taffeta rustled on the stones, he said, "It sounds like water falling."
It's a memory I hold close to my heart and will forever.
Why three years?
Simple, really.
My father took all of the wedding photos and is in a few of them on the occasion where my wonderful MM took photos of the two of us together.
I remember when MM sent them to me, having gotten them all developed and I put them aside for a while. Then my father died. And when I tried to look at the photographs again... It was simply too painful. I stopped putting the album together.
Last night, I put photos away. Got through the pictures of the ceremony.
No tears anymore.
But there are a little series of photographs that MM took of me putting my father's buttonierre on, giving him a kiss, and fussing with the white rose, just so. I look so happy and he looks so proud and lovable and wonderful.
It was such a magical, beautiful day. I am so grateful that he lived long enough to give me away. And last night, I was grateful that I could look at those photos with fondness and love, no longer be destroyed by grief and regret.
All those beautiful photos of my wedding were my father's last gift to me. I am lucky to have them.
Miss you, Poppa Bear.
