Holiday Family

"It's the most wonderful time of the year..." sings a middle-aged man's voice on the radio.

It is the most wonderful time of the year indeed. And for you Christmas/ New Years brides out there...your wedding will be blessed, blissed and beautiful.

Celebrating the holidays with close friends and family, I noticed a pattern. Many men gravitate to their wives families. Holiday family gatherings are usually harnessed around a maternal figure, and the wife's family nucleus. The togetherness in this most wonderful time of the year can so easily amplifies the missingness of a loved one.

A mother is an anchor, a source of order, strength and home. For families that lose that anchor and warmth, it becomes so easy to spend life pretending. Pretending it doesn't matter that much, really. Pretending to be as interested in other family units out of the void of your own.

Last night, in an air conditioned car on a frigid night, my husband and I had a conversation about the emptiness that comes with not having a second side of the family to complete the family circle.

First come the justifications...we live far away by choice. We're adults now, independent and complete in our own right. But the truth of the matter is that the picture is unwhole. And the memories of what it would have been like for it to be whole fade with every passing year. Nine years of not hearing a loved one's voice is a long time. A make believe lie of her going on a long trip can no longer hold up.

So the conclusion of our car talk was to accept this reality. We've tried to challenge it, change it, work around it...but this year, for it to be the most wonderful season, we're embracing it. No longer pretending. Even if it's our own little secret.

The Jolly Holidays

Already Thanksgiving has made it's 2008 entrance, followed by the jolly Christmas spirit.

It's the nation's one last shot to creep out of hybernation before the freezing cold settles in.

And here -- juggling between wedding budgets and contract maneuvering, add to the bride's to-do list: gift giving, card sending, party attending, family mingling and mother missing.

Before freaking out on your fiance from stress, or to any tree that will listen -- allow me to propose one hidden wedding planning benefit of this busy season.

The opportunity to ask for help.

Many motherless brides I have met revel in the appearance of being entirely self sufficient. Indeed, the notion of asking for help would mean to acknowledge weakness and face up to the feeling of wanting to be safe in the strength of a mother's arms.

I remember sitting on a carpeted floor days before our wedding, bundling bird-friendly confetti into little strips of material I had envisioned to be cast upon my fiance and I as we were to be announced husband and wife.

Housemates that walked by my neat little bundles frequently asked if I needed help.

Politely I declined. Over and over. Resenting the fact that they couldn't read my mind, roll up their sleeves and start counting confetti.

To ask for their help would mean my confessing "I feel alone and scared, would you help me and give me the support I need?" Although the request would not be interpreted as such, I was determined not to feel like someone's project. Besides, getting married was my choice, why should people feel obligated to help.

Such an approach alienated me, feeding my distrust of people's motives.

Which leads me back to the subject at hand. The blessed holiday season is a time of coming together, figuratively as well as literally. Being true to your heart and inviting others in will bring a comfort isolation does not allow. Trust me, I've been there.

For many people, complex family issues arise at this time. People are craving comfort and the warmth of friendship.

Inviting others to help you bundle confetti balls, assemble invitations, or shop for random deals can seal the joy of the season, both for you and for those who want to share in your joy.

If Not Now -- then When

It's been 3 weeks since my last update. Started a new job, yes, even in a sagging economy. With change always comes deep feelings of insecurity. In my heart, I know I am lovely, intelligent, and competent. Yet, there's this shadow that always tells me otherwise. In those moments I remember the precious advice I recieved, and did not entirely adhere to, during our premarital counseling.

There are lots of different approaches to premarital counseling. Many couples prefer to do it through a religious institution where faith is the foundation of a relationship and where admittedly the cost is less than professional counseling.

I recall the best advice our clergy counselor gave us...as we informally chatted around breakfast at an all American diner discussing issues such as finances, "fighting well" and all the traditional topics to cover before engaging in marriage. During that specific meeting he listened for the first time about the death of my mother. He asked me if I had considered professional counseling.

"Do you know how much that costs?!" I asked, aghast that he would suggest that during a season of financial crunch he would suggest I see a professional grief counselor.

"How much did your dress cost?" Was his unsolicited response.

"$250" My proud reaction thinking back to the great deal I found online to the dress of my dreams.

"You mean you would spend $250 without hesitation on a dress you want to make sure is clean and white for your wedding day, but you wouldn't spend that amount to ensure you walk that aisle with a clean soul?"

His words pierced my defenses. "Who is he to judge the state of my soul?" Was my first reaction, followed by, "he's got a point." A secondary reaction.

Now...nearly 3 years later, change still draws back the same stings that made my wedding the best and most painful experience of my life. Change...be it a job, a location, anything brings back hiccups of the same flavor of a pain that accompanied that season. Yet...finances has always been the reason I never reached for a counselor I felt comfortable with.

I titled this post "If Not Now -- then When" after a Tracy Chapman song that served as an epiphany from my engagement days. Back then I believed the numbing agent of time to be an interpretation of healing. But the feelings that surged during that period, were actually a gift, a clear open door to areas in my life that could be worked through, at any cost, before they crystalized in my heart, resurging at vulnerable times.

You can wait 'til morning comes
You can wait for the new day
You can wait and lose this heart
You can wait and soon be sorry
Now love's the only thing that's free
We must take it where it's found
Pretty soon it may be costly
If now now what then
We all must live our lives Always feeling Always thinking
The moment has arrived.
If not now then when...

Learning to Fly

I recently picked up The Shack after scores of recommendations from friends. Within an hour, my cerebrum escaped our cosy apartment into a landscape of lush forests and into an author's unbashfully forthright conversation with God [depicted as a "She"] about the problem of pain and its relationship to love and freedom.

"Consider our friend over here," she began. "Most birds were created to fly. Being grounded for them is a limitation within their ability to fly, not the other way around...Pain has a way of clipping our wings and keeping us from being able to fly...And if left unresolved for very long, you can almost forget that you were ever created to fly in the first place." (p. 97)

Reading this simple analogy triggered a universe of fear in loving and potentially losing again. Of unleashing 8-year old clippings on my wings. I had forgotten what it means to love without fear of death or anxiety.

After all, if I loved my mother, provider, protector and friend so dearly and couldn't change the circumstances of her death, am I willing to risk again and love this man who could devastate my heart again if he were to die?

Extreme as such thinking may appear to some, it's common, real and rooted in a fear founded on experience that can't be argued away, even by a fiance. It's the question a bride must ask herself prior to vowing "till death do us part" and it's the question she may ask every snowy night that her husband drives in a car, or every time he shows a sign of sickness.

Your thoughts, comments...?

Mother of the Bride

Would knowing the duties that a mother would traditionally fulfill during engagement and the wedding make planning easier for a motherless bride?

Yes/ no/ Possibly?

Show Me Some Love

I often speak to brides who secretly feel angry. Pinpointing a menial wedding detail or comment from someone in the wedding party may be the immediate target of the frustration...but dig a little deeper and the hurt unravels into a deep ache for having mom there to pick up the pieces of logistics, appointments, and attitudes. To reassure the apple of her eye that "everything will be alright."

Many brides spend so much time and energy compensating for her absence, never truely showing the pain. In Motherless Daughters, Hope Edelman offers a nugget of perspective that I think highlights the importance of having someone close, anyone sensitive to your situation, to know the truth of reason behind your emotions.

As women, we have few adequate models for releasing rage, and we often give in to the impulse to pretend it isn’t there. Which is really an unfortunate consequence, because anger can be our ally, at least for a while. As a first-response emotion, it can protect us from feeling intense sadness until we’ve passed through an intitial adjustment stage. But clinging to anger too long keeps us from addressing the emotions underneath, and those-resentment, desertion, confusion, guilt, love-are the ones on which true mourning is based.

Your thoughts?

Not alone

For one day in her life the average engaged woman is tranformed into a supermodel for her wedding. A cross between an allstar diva and noble princess. On that day, a slew of cameras and videos, bubbles and confetti, follow her every step. Her hair is perfectly pinned, her face adored.

A little while ago it was my birthday. Another day in the year where I secretly expect the paparazzi to show up and make me feel like I'm the most important person to mother earth. In reality, it's usually not mother earth's snapshot of my life I seek, its my mother's gloating over it that I miss.

The emails came in, phonecalls abounded, my husband's card made me cry from joy. For eight years I had practiced choosing to enjoy this day without my mom recieving the credit for making me happen. The plan for the day was laid out, my favorite comfort foods in the fridge, a slew of social events would keep me busy enough to not really think about it. But this year another curve ball came my way.

My father forgot.

Sometimes it doesn't matter how many people remember, it's hard to get over the one person who seemingly forgets, the one person who's absent. An eternal optimist, this was hard to accept at my wedding. Didn't matter how many cameras were clicking or faces smiling, there was one woman in the world I wanted there more than emotions could express. More than my feelings could contain.

In that moment, and in other life moments, I think about my Creator. I listen to that part of my heart that knows there is more to my existence than biological forces shaping atoms and equalizing ions. When I feel surrounded by people yet empty within, longing for my mother's presence, I think about a verse in the Bible that says "When my father and my mother are turned away from me, then the Lord will be my support." (Psalm 27)

On days like these I miss her and I smile and in my heart I kiss her and I realize, God is with me. I am not alone.

Fear of Commitment

Note to self: fear of commitment and mother loss are connected. Check out an excerpt from Buxbaums' riveting novel. Anyone read it?

Blue Dress, Blue Napkin

Remembering random details mid-conversation with friends and relatives may be typical for most brides. Fervently nodding in conversational agreement over microcosmic points of talk that spark monumental inspiration for decorating ideas. Suddenly a friend talking about her new blue dress triggers an idea for blue napkins to be neatly folded underneath the complimentary fusia pink M&M favors.

Taking these random details and thoughts to a "motherly" level can be hard -- to put it mildly. Although I have often heard brides complain of their mother's excessive sharing of wedding preferences in a border-line manipulative way, at least those tastes, opinions and preferences are known.

On and on your friend's "blue dress" conversation continues, while all you can wonder is what color napkins your mom would want? What kind of a dress would she want you to wear?

Would she think my 20s hairdo is hideous? And who will entertain our great aunt and uncle, if not her. Am I responsible to introduce old relatives to the groom's side of the family even though the last time I saw them I was in diapers?

Slowly you feel your "I'm listening to your blue dress story but thinking of something wedding related" nod give way to an unpolished glisten of tears accumulating at the corner of your eye. Taking charge of your tear ducts you hurry a whitty comment that makes both of you laugh. You laugh and laugh till the topic changes from blue to the weather. Your thoughts craving one thing only, a journal.

Photo credit: Kate Nash by Paul Ferrell

Her Dress, My Dress

(Image source: Modern Bride/ Perfect Bound)

This Kaleidoscopic picture reflects the momentum of legacy. The legacy of commitment from your mother's love that nurtured your ability to extend it as a radiant bride.

The bond of a Mother-in-Law

It's taken time to assemble these three short words into one phrase. Mother-in-law.
I remember the first time we met. Just as I had grown accustomed to all my friends having their own mothers to rely on, dating D. caused me to confront a new mind boggling reality - my boyfriend had a mother too. Which meant my universe of empathy, I thought at the time, was shrunken to that of a diary and pen.

Over time I engaged in more meaningful conversations with this vivacious woman, who, over time felt free to call herself "mom." She too ironically lost her mother at age 20 and approached my aloofness with an exponential dose of warmth.

As D. and my relationship evolved into engagement, "mom" and I found a natural bond in shopping and sipping french onion soup. Though I knew comparing her to my mother made no sense, the appeal to do so superceeded any logic. Thus the laundry list began:

She was not from my culture, and could not pronouce words as I did.
She didn't remember my sisters and I fighting as kids, nor did she put ice-cream on my tongue when I was burning with fever.
She never disciplined me as a teenager nor did she shape my worldview.
Yet she did all those things, and more, for the one my heart was in love with, my husband-to-be.

And... she was here. And she was trying to know me. And she was open.

Comfort Blanket Down the Aisle

Imagine a noble sparkly-eyed bride, walking down the isle, clinging to a thin cotten childhood comfort blanket patterned with faded cartoon characters. To the bride, this item symbolizes an age of innocence, a feeling of safety, a sense of being surrounded by unconditional love. Down the isle she walks, chiffon dress trailing behind, as she clings to that blanket of hope.

Sure, the moment gets lost by the prospect of gazing into the eyes of the man you love. But still, in the back of one's mind there's a rooted understanding that this wedding is missing an integral figure. Perhaps walking down the isle with a cotton blanket may seem a little out of character, but there are other items brides have used to encapture, and honor the one who bore them life. Tracy Masington of the site Fresh Bride proposes the following:

Have your florist provide you with a special flower that can be easily slipped into your bouquet. After your arrival at the altar and before anything else happens, a previously designated relative brings your groom this special flower. He then slides it into the center of your bouquet, and the officiant says: On this day, we honor the memory of the bride's beloved mother by adding a specially chosen flower to the bride's bouquet.

How Others Commemorated: Part II

Jane and Tess.

If you haven't seen the movie 27 Dresses, I'd highly recommend it. Besides presenting an interesting social commentary on weddings, it also provides insight on the relationship of two sisters in light of a wedding and the loss of their mother.

Jane, the responsible older sister withholds her dismay when her dad presents Tess with their mother's wedding dress. Tess, portrayed as a wedding diva, cuts up the entire dress to shreds to use a strip of it in her own fashionable gown.

Here's the warning from the classic sisterly blowup scene where Jane tells Tess: "Today you're just the bXtch who broke my heart and cut up my mother's wedding dress." Might be a good idea to ask siblings before tearing such a treasure apart.

But the scene does present an option for commemoration...using elements from your mother's wedding dress in your own, or wearing her dress entirely.

How to Commemorate - I

I'm on a mission to find examples of ways women commemorate their mother's presence at their wedding. Here's a very bold bride who talked about how she felt her mother's presence during the ceremony. Note her disclaimer at the end.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=9vYXiHsNlTI&feature=related

A Bridal Space

Most living rooms have a lamp, a couch, a table. I believe emotional space is comprised of the very same elements. As a former motherless bride, I welcome you to share this "space" that will shed light to the end of the wedding tunnel, even in the midst of missing her. My hope is it would be a space where you can kick off your wedding planning shoes, stop and reflect on what it means to enter into this phase without her. May you feel emotionally "fed" in the knowledge that yes, you're not crazy. And your legitimate rollercoaster memories and feelings are partially shared by other brides.

Your comments, stories, questions and silence are welcomed...