Wed.

I've spent a lot of time in my car the past few weeks. I like to call myself a nomad--travelling from place to place. I'm lucky enough to have some pretty spectacular friends and family who have extra beds and free time to hang out with me. 3 hours trips seem like a breeze to me now. Sometimes I'm belting out Backstreet Boys with my best friend, but for the most part it's just me and my thoughts. And naturally my thoughts are consumed with memories of my parents. I think about the trips I took with them, the places I wish we could all go, but most of all I think about the talks I had with them. I got engaged after my mom died, but there was one day we spent in the hospital where I let my mom ask me all about my wedding--which she was absolutely sure would happen. This was probably 10 months before I got engaged, but I let her drill me with questions about bridesmaid dresses, bridal showers, and wedding locations. I've been seeing a quote a lot lately that reads, "Enjoy the little things, for one day you will look back and realize they were the big things." My mom and I were sitting in a hospital while she got platelets, and wanting to do anything to distract her, I talked about my far off wedding. I thought it was make-believe, but little did I know that that was the first wedding planning session I would have. Every decision I've made for the wedding takes me back to that day with her. I can see her smiling and crying and asking a million questions. I keep that image with me. Not the image of her hooked up to an IV. I never see that. When I close my eyes, I see my mom, giddy with the excitement of planning a wedding. Talk about something little ending up being something major.

It is so hard to believe that I am almost done wedding planning. Really, I am done. I'm in the "wedding executing" stage. I grow more excited every day, but I'd be lying if I didn't say with every detail that is finished I feel a tug at my heart and am reminded what I'm without. I take a deep breath and keep my mom alive in my heart, but some days (well, everyday) I wish she was here. I want to know if she likes the centerpieces. I want to know if she likes all the purple (her favorite color). I want her to see me twirl in my wedding dress. I have a string of pearls that my mom excitedly gave to me for my 23rd birthday. She died exactly one month later. I really wanted those pearls, but they've now become my most treasured possession and the basis on which my wedding look was founded. If my dress didn't go with those pearls, it was not a contender. I tried on many dresses, but it wasn't until after I bought THE dress that I realized it was very similar to a dress I described to my mom that day in the hospital. It also goes perfectly with the pearls. I'd like to think that the pearls were her way of telling my that she would have loved me in my dress.

Planning the wedding without my mom was something I prepared myself for, but getting married without my dad to walk me down the aisle was not anything I could ever expect. He knew a lot of the details. He knew that my first wedding meltdown came in invitation wording. I wanted the wording to be special enough to honor her. Two weeks after crying over how to include my mom, I lost my dad. In the initial hours I thought, "There is no way I can get married now." I had no basis for saying it, but my heart was ripped open for the second time in 18 months. In those bleak moments, I wanted nothing to do with wedded bliss. Death wants to rob you of your ability to hope. It wants you to lie in bed and let the grief consume you. Sometimes it's easier to be sad. Happiness takes work. Worry, fear, and anxiety are more welcome friends than joy and peace. But in the days following my dad's death, I felt peace returning to my heart. I still worried, and I think I always will. But I was at peace that my wedding would not only be honoring my mom but my dad as well. My dad was buried in the suit that he bought to walk me down the aisle. He can now be with my mom on my wedding day. Where he should be. Whether they are together in a pew or together in heaven, I don't think that matters. So, for the second time, I rewrote the wedding invitation wording. Only this time I was at peace with what it said. I wanted to stand at the end of the aisle on my Dad's arm and have him be there when I join my life with my new husband, but he was meant to be there with my mom.

I don't know how I will be on my wedding day. I don't know how I will be tomorrow. Today I was happy, so today was a win. My wedding day is not going to be a memorial service for my parents. It is going to be a celebration of everything. A celebration that we are still standing, a celebration that we are still healing, a celebration that we are still smiling, a celebration that we are still loving. Their deaths don't fit into that. Their lives do. Everyone keeps asking me if I am stressed, but I'm really not. I know a lot needs to be done and maybe the anxiety will come, but I really feel like the peace that I got 9 weeks ago has transcended into the final weeks before the wedding. Maybe that's the gift that my parents are giving me. I worry about a lot. A lot a lot. But I'm not worried about the wedding. It will be beautiful because of the people who surround it. My mom would love my centerpieces because she loves me. She would love my dress because she loves me. At the end of the day, it's all just details. It's all just stuff. People are who matter. Love is what matters. Details are fun and pretty, but details don't make love. Just because my Dad isn't physically there to walk me down the aisle doesn't mean that his love isn't just as real. I want to kiss my mom and see her in a pretty dress. I want to see my Dad in that grey suit and hold onto his arm. But I'd rather have their love above any of that. And I have that love, so that's good enough for me. And the greatest part of the day is that I have the love of a pretty incredible man. And our love is rooted in the greatest love of all. I gave my heart away to him almost three years ago, and he has taken it no matter how battered and bruised it becomes. His love and unending joy has slowly mended me. And his joy comes through his unwavering faith. We are broken souls, but together we are mended in Christ. The greatest gift of all is that we may have hope of a day when there is no more sadness and there are no more broken hearts. A day is coming when there is only pure joy and pure love.

So the little things become the big things. I'd say that's pretty accurate. Phone calls with a friend turned into the most genuine love I've ever felt. Wedding planning is fun, but marriage planning is incredible. I am looking forward to my wedding day. I am looking forward to being a blushing bride. But I am over the moon excited to become a wife and life partner. I have the love of my parents deep in my soul next to the values they taught me. Really, as long as that handsome man is standing there waiting to build a life together, I would marry him in pajamas, on a Tuesday, in the middle of the street.