The Wedding Dress

Many little girls dream about their wedding day, marrying their Prince Charming and most importantly, their wedding dress.  I was one of those little girls.  I was engaged when I was 19 and fell in love with a wedding dress that I hoped to wear.  It was simple for the time, a soft jersey with an empire waist, A-line.  It had a high neck with beading which continued down to a placket.  It also had long sleeves.  No lace.  It was simple, like how I perceived myself at the time.  That wedding never happened.  I never had the chance to try on a wedding dress.

Fast forward seventeen years to when Tom and I were engaged.  An important part of the wedding planning is finding just the right dress.  I started shopping nine months before the wedding.  My mom didn't live locally so my shopping buddy was my bestie Mary Beth.  I went shopping with her six years earlier for her gown.  We went to the standard bridal places and since they only stocked tiny sample sizes, I was never able to try on a gown.  Mary Beth was my personal mannequin.  But nothing we saw came even close to what I thought I wanted, even though I didn't even know what that was.  I was a bride in my mid-30s (considered old in the 90s) and most thought the appropriate dress would be a pale pink fitted suit.  That wasn't what I wanted.  I also preferred more tailored clothes back in the day so I wanted something more subdued.

On a cold December Friday afternoon, Mary Beth and I drove down to Orland Park, a suburb about 40 miles southwest of Chicago.  In that little town was a bridal salon that represented a local designer, Jon Bradley.  We didn't know it when we made the appointment but the owner of the salon, Andrea, was the same woman who was the salesperson who helped Mary Beth when she purchased her gown. Her headpiece was also a Jon Bradley design.

When asked what I was looking for, I could only describe what I didn't want--something that looked like a 20 year old would wear.  I wanted something that fit my personality.  Andrea brought out several beautiful samples, fabulous one-of-a-kind gowns that Mary Beth modeled for me.  They were all beautiful.  But nothing was speaking to me.  I was worried that I wouldn't find one.  Andrea gave me a sideways gaze and said she had one more, it was from the previous year's collection so the sample was a little beat up.  Perhaps I'd like to look at it.  When she pulled it out of bag, Mary Beth and I looked at each other and just knew.  As I held it up in front of me in the mirror, the Hallelujah Chorus started to play on the radio.  It was the song we were using as our recessional.  It was my dress. I looked at Mary Beth.  She had tears in her eyes.

Since the cost of the dress was above the budget I felt that I had to discuss it with Tom before committing that much money (it was a lot).  I worked with Andrea to make some modifications to bring the cost down, but it was still a lot.  Tom, in his usual fashion said, "If its what you want, you deserve it.  Get it."  And I did.  I love the dress.  We used to joke that it cost so much we should just stuff it and use it as a couch.  Tom said it was so big that he would need a hand truck to move it.

It was so much fun to wear and to dance in.  It was also a challenge to maneuver in.  But I loved it.  I still love it.  After the wedding I had it cleaned and stored it in the closet.  I would put it on occasionally for the sheer joy of wearing it.  I had a special area of our closet designed to hold it.  I had always hoped that we would be able to have a renewal of our vows and I would get to wear the dress again.

Two years ago I did a photo shoot of the dress on our anniversary.  I noticed, for the first time, that the detail on the trim was a rose.  A rose.  I had the dress for over 20 years.  I adored the dress and I didn't realize until 2017 that the trim was a rose.  Talk about not being observant.  Geez.

On the occasion of our 25th wedding anniversary I wanted to honor the day and wear the dress.  It was to be a prop in documenting what it feels like to be a widow on such a milestone.  And that's what I did.  I tried the dress on and it was too big.  I had to have it taken in.  Not something the seamstress had heard very often--a twenty-five year old dress that need to be taken in, not let out.

The dress holds the energy of that day.  And the memories.  It is precious to me.  And it is still just as gorgeous.  Perhaps not as timely, but gorgeous just the same.  Its 90s big. And its me. And us.

On the Occassion of our Twenty-fifth Wedding Anniversary

Tuesday September 24, 2019 will be the twenty-fifth anniversary of the day we married.  It is an auspicious day, both joyful and deeply sad.  It marks the day, that day, twenty-five years ago, that we united in marriage.  A marriage that brought us both incredible love and joy and commitment and humor and devotion.  A marriage that at times humbled us to our knees with human frailties and lifted our hearts to incredible joy.  A marriage that was a spiritual journey for each of us as individuals and both of us as a couple.  A marriage that taught us what it means to be really committed to another human being, how to love deeply and accept each others' shortcomings even when those shortcomings drove us to distraction and frustration.  It was a marriage that ended far too soon, after only twenty years on the physical plane.

I always wanted to be married.  I was engaged when I was 19 to my first love.  My parents divorced the next year and things did not go well for the next decade or so on the relationship front.  Tom had been married and divorced.  I met him about a year after his divorce and he was still deeply hurt.  He said he never wanted to marry again.  I had to chase him until he caught me.  We were together for six years before he was ready to try again.  The one thing I know is that he never regretted taking the plunge again and that he believed it was the best thing he ever did.

I am so saddened about this milestone.  And angry that we didn't get to twenty-five.  I feel cheated.  It isn't fair.  I think that goes without saying.

I wanted to mark this occasion.  To honor the day, the beauty of it and the sorrow it now holds.  I still have my wedding dress.  I LOVE my wedding dress.  I had a photo shoot done with it,  The photo captures exactly what I wanted to show.  The beauty and the sadness, the loneliness, importance.

The day we married it was raining.  In fact, it was raining for the entire week prior to our wedding.  And we had planned an outdoor wedding.  Fortunately we had a plan B, moving the ceremony and the reception inside.   The Redfield Center at the Grove, designed by George Elmslie, a follower of Louis Sullivan, was a architectural gem for our intimate wedding.

I think I remember every moment of that day, and what I have forgotten can be recalled by our wedding video or any of the many photographs taken.  My father, who had waffled at coming to our wedding, did not attend the rehearsal the day before.  My sister-in-law urged me not to worry about the situation.  I told her I was getting married no matter what.  My parents both came to the wedding and were cordial to each other, it was the first time they had seen each other since they divorced eighteen years before.  I remember seeing Tom's face as I walked down the aisle.  I felt so loved, by my family, our friends and most of all, the man that I was marrying.  It was a beautiful wedding.  And as we left that evening, the rain had ended, the moon had come out and there was a low ground fog over the meadow in front of the house.  They say rain on your wedding day is a sign of good luck. One source says it signifies the cleansing of tough times or sadness in your past. True for me  Another source indicates it is because it symbolizes the last tears that the bride will shed for the rest of her life.  I don't know about that.  I've cried gallons of tears before Tom's death and particularly after.  We had a happy marriage, built daily by the minutia of life.

The 24th is a special day--a day I will always remember.