Not a throwback Thursday Nov. 16, 2017

Through a mother’s eyes

Hardly a day goes by when I don’t think about, and miss, my mother. You would think I would be used to this by now, I’ve been doing it for twenty-eight years. But every time I’m faced with a once-in-a-lifetime occasion, the ache is brand new.

On Saturday evening our daughter will take a walk down a candlelit path on her father’s arm. Her eyes will be focused on a man that she seems to have loved forever. My eyes will be focused on her. I will study her closely, take in every detail, and put to my memory the beautiful bride our little girl has grown up to be. I wish my mom could have lived to see this too.

I recall my own walk down a similar aisle. It was a long time ago. I remember the hum of organ music as my father and I stepped through the doorway. The flutter of excitement and nerves in my chest. My dad’s quiet whisper; “Do you want to run?” he asked. He didn’t mean ‘away’ but up the aisle toward a future that would lead me to today. I can see my handsome groom waiting nervously at the front of the church. I can hear the shuffling as people stand and our long walk begins. I see my mother’s face.

I was a happy bride, a hopeful one – I remember being surprised at the sting of tears in my eyes when I looked at my mom. She gave a subtle shake of her head, she was never one for tears, and urged me on. I had planned to stop and give her a rose on my way toward the alter. The florist was to have set one ready to be freed from the bouquet. Fate and failure don’t always equal a disaster – the rose wouldn’t budge. I asked mom to hold the flower as I tried to tug it out of the bouquet. The sting in my eyes turned first to embarrassment and then to laughter as we abandoned the mission. The moment sealed itself in my memory and makes me smile even today.

My mother was as excited for me as I am for my daughter. The wedding on Saturday will be a decidedly different affair than my own, those many years ago. There won’t an organ or a sea of people sitting in pews. Only a few of the original cast of characters remain. The decorations, the clothes, the menu, will all reflect this moment and be in keeping with these days. The emotions, on the other hand, will be as old as time. I will watch the proceedings through a mother’s eyes. I will see in my daughter the same hopeful happiness my mother saw in me. I will witness this moment as both a mother and me. And I will remember it for both.