Last night was the wedding of my friends Sara and Gerald. The wedding was beautiful and the reception was so much fun. I got to sit at a table with some of my favorite people – including a couple I don’t see often. But there was one moment that was just too much for me…and when I attend weddings, it always is. The father/daughter dance. I always cry. Everytime.
A few years prior to my dad’s death, I attanded my cousin Mike’s wedding. And I remember that day so clearly. I was dressed in blue with my long hair up in a bun. We had gotten to the reception and my parents had danced. And then dad asked my sister to dance. And then he asked me. And I said no. I said no because I hate to dance. I hate to get up in front of people and move as I am so self-conscious about how I look and so I said no. And it turned out that was my last chance. He died.
Now everytime I go to a wedding it is like reliving the moment when I wish I had said yes. Lots of people don’t get a father daughter dance. My sister didn’t at her wedding. But knowing I had a chance and turned it down out of fear and loathing for myself, somehow makes it worse. It is a tough thing to explain to other people when you start balling at a wedding and it seems totally inappropriate.
Oh daddy…I wish I had said yes.