We have a date. I have my dress. We have our bridal party and our officiant. We have the venue and the designer and the caterer. The wedding is essentially planned with the exception of music. We don’t have our music….
and I feel like it’s because I don’t have my mother.
She was music to me. She was the singer, the piano player, the one who taught and encouraged my musical gifts and the only person in my life who was as emotionally connected through music as much as I am.
it wasn’t until this morning when I sat down to start researching music for the ceremony that I was reminded of how much music can cause me to really feel things and just how much I miss her during this precious time in my life. I don’t want to focus on her absence but right now at this moment, I think I need to pull up a seat and get comfortable. I had shelved my grief for months, naively thinking that I had moved beyond the point of these deep swells of sadness and longing for her.
The truth is, I’m just so pissed that she’s missing out and I’m missing out on her. She would have made the dresses for her granddaughters (our flower girls), insisted upon helping with all the little details that are often overlooked, and kept me inline with her standards of etiquette. More than anything, she’s missing out on getting to know Patrick and witness just how much he loves and cares for me. He is everything she ever could have wanted in a son-in-law and I’m just devastated that she doesn’t get to see us grow together as a family.
it was this version of Falling Slowly that triggered the big fat tears that streamed down my red hot cheeks for the first time in months. I listened to it on repeat until I had cried it all out and it felt good. It felt freeing, sobering, and satisfying to focus on her for a little while. It’s a reminder that I need to do it more often.
Instead of being here right next to me, I’ll have to settle for feeling her through the music…