I love weddings. No matter the type of ceremony, religious or secular, indoor or outdoor, traditional or invented, in my experience there is just one wedding that is repeated over and over again. They all make me cry, in joy and a little longing for things imagined, things lost, and the potential of it all.
So when I watched the father-daughter dance at a friends’ wedding last Sunday, I cried for the tenderness and pride he showered on her, for the lack of a father-daughter dance at my own wedding, for the loss of my father. And instead of mourning him, I realized that to honor him I should cherish myself as he cherished me. Essentially, it is up to me to keep that feeling of love alive.
Dad, you would have been 76 this past week. Happy Birthday. I bought myself a gigantic bright orange purse from you on your Birthday. I hope you like it. It makes me smile, and that’s what you would have wanted.
A lovely response.