It’s finally, almost over.

10 Jul

I really don’t want to write this blog. But I realize I won’t be able to write anything else until I get this out and on paper. So here goes.

In 3 days it will be Saturday. In 3 days it will be July 13, 2013. In 3 days the day I was supposed to marry the love of my life will come and go. Except there won’t be any white dress. There won’t be any “I Do’s”. There won’t be any till death do us parts. There won’t be a wedding. There won’t be a marriage.

There won’t be any sweetheart neck lines with scalloped details on the bosom. There won’t be any satin corset bodice with lace overlay. There won’t be any cathedral veils with sparkly crystals at the end. I won’t be sitting at the dressing table as my girls fuss over me and my aunt shares her words of wisdom like my mom would have done.

Gone is the weekend event of the year at the mansion overlooking the lake. Gone is the long winding driveway and marble entry way. Gone is the winding stair case leading out to the lawn that would have taken me to him. Gone is my heart dropping as I catch him in my line of sight and he catches me in his. Gone is the vision of my sister reading my mother’s poetry. Gone are the beautiful satin purple dresses picked out for my beautiful girls. Gone is the grey suit custom made to fit his build just so. Gone is the exchanging of rings, the exchanging of vows and the beginning of our forever together.

It’s hard to explain this feeling. If I had to, I’d say it would be like being forced to watch a movie whose ending you know AND don’t like every day on a 24 hour reel. Every day I wake up I think what I would have been doing today. Would I be packing overnight bags? Finalizing arrangements. Would I be excited, stressed, or nervous?

So many emotions and feelings constantly waiting for the moment I let down my guard for even a millisecond so they can break the dam and flood the river of emotions looking for a reason to rage out of control. Every day is a practice in decorum as I work to maintain my composure and patience as I wait for it to be over. Some things you don’t get over, you just have to get through. This is one of those things.

And it’s incredibly lonely. The offered words of support feel like daggers and my heart is the unwitting target. “Look at the bright side they say”. “God has bought you so far”. Yes, he has. But when did being brought far mean there would be no pain. My optimism isn’t in question.  Neither is my appreciation for where I am and what I have. However, there is a different reality that exists when you’re in the muck of it. When you’ve rejoiced and mourned, bought and returned, reserved and canceled. Sympathy has a difference response than reality.

While there are a lot of things that remain, there is also a lot that was lost. Though a new dream will be born, this one has to die first. There is grief even for the inanimate. There is sadness even in my peace. 


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