“Hi, Anne, it’s Dee Campbell calling. Just wanted to congratulate you on Kendra and Christian’s wedding on Saturday. Well done! “
“Oh, thank you”. I said. “It was a lovely day” .
But what I really thought was “if you only knew!” My husband occasionally reminds me that every wedding has unexpected little upsets, no matter how much planning has been done.
I recall the fiasco of the Friday night Wedding rehearsal for our daughter Kendra’s wedding on the campus of the University of San Diego. Fate had been on our side in acquiring for Saturday, October 28, 1998, one of the highly coveted wedding Masses offered there at the Founders Chapel. To oversee all activities and to avoid the frantic freeway drive on the wedding morning, we booked a hotel in downtown San Diego for the weekend. Good solid planning on our part, right? Unfortunately, we had not counted on our car breaking down in the underground garage of the hotel. Nor had we considered the chance of our San Diego Padre baseball team winning the division championship that same day. Just as we walked out of the hotel, all downtown streets were suddenly blocked off for a celebratory parade. Traffic was a mess. We had no working car. Taxi service was not able to pick us up. The hotel shuttle service was not able to leave. We were stranded at the hotel. Cell phones and texting and Uber did not yet exist. Thankfully, San Diego is a tourist mecca. We grabbed a pedicab passing near-by. Picture one underdeveloped adolescent boy cycling a mile and hauling my husband and me up the steep hill to the chapel while carrying the all-essential paper plate ribbon bouquets created at the bridal showers. We were late arriving at the chapel. Yet my husband did get to rehearse the wedding march with our daughter. The mother of the bride, unfortunately, did not get to do her walk. I would wing it the next day.
Saturday came and shone bright and sunny for this late October day. Official photographs were taken. Kendra presented as a beautiful, living tableau with her adoring flowers girls. The bridesmaids, all clad in navy blue, hovered around. It was obvious they were all experienced in this rite of passage. At the appointed time, I made my way from the bride's assigned dressing room to the back of the chapel. I could see the pews adorned with white flowers being filled with the 200 guest who were here to share this day with us. My family had flown from New England. Part of my husband’s family had arrived from the Northwest. Some distant relatives had crossed the ocean from Ireland to be here. A local string quartet played softly in the background. The chapel with its gleaming wood and stained glass created a majestic and humbling atmosphere. I was amazingly calm in the excitement of this long-awaited and planned event.
That day I was the mother of the bride. I had undertaken the role of the supreme matriarch and hostess of this perfect wedding. I had supervised all food and cake tasting. I had attended three bridal showers, multiple bridal fairs, and a bridal tea. I had applied calligraphy to all over two hundred invitations and created three different seating charts for the reception. I had shopped for the all-important wedding dress. After much consideration, I had purchased my perfect mother-of-the-bride outfit. I did not look like a dowdy old lady. The outfit was a simple floor-length silk suit with a jacket in champagne color. It was not frilly or glittery. It was an understated classic. I knew I could possibly wear it again but probably would not. I had created and set the tone of this celebration.
I noted that this would be the
last time that day when I would have a few moments to myself
. I had butterflies in my stomach as I looked down the aisle. I could
hardly get my head around the fact that this
long-awaited glorious wedding was about to commence. Soon I would run the
gauntlet of the 150-foot aisle with the eyes of all on me momentarily while awaiting the bride’s entrance. Just then I noted the arrival of a
couple at the back of the chapel
And then, “Oh No! “ shouted that silent voice in my head. Is that woman at the wrong wedding? Am I at the wrong wedding? Oh my goodness, that is the groom’s parents, our new best friends. Did she not know the rule for the groom’s mother: “ Keep your mouth shut and wear beige”? She was not wearing beige. She was not wearing the pale blue outfit that I had assumed she would choose. She was wearing a light gold floor-length skirt with a matching jacket. She was wearing MY DRESS!. Although mine was a champagne color and hers was gold, we did match like twins. This could not be happening on this golden day of days! I shifted my attention. My son was at my side. He would escort me to my first-row pew. It was now our turn to make our entrance with no time to run or change or hide.
The nightmare of attending an event and having someone else wear your dress has haunted me since childhood. I clearly heard my mother’s voice across the years and from 3,000 miles away. “Anne, hold your head high and shoulders back. Pretend nothing is amiss. And SMILE. I purposefully walked slowly. I nodded to familiar faces. I smiled. And I smiled again.
Two days later I was listening to Dee Campbell congratulating me on the successful wedding. She continued on: “ You know that Bob and I have been to many weddings over the years and this is the first time I have ever seen the two mothers dress alike at their children’s wedding. Such a unique idea to show the unity of two families! Anne, how clever of you”
If she only knew.
Yes, my husband was correct. Every
wedding has unexpected upsets no matter how much planning. But I had met the
challenge and came out smiling.
Comments
Post a Comment