I'm a just-shy-of-thirty bride to be. My Mom died of cancer last year, while my now-fiance and I were dating. It was life-shattering, blah, blah, blah (not to undermine the importance of the event in my life, but to preserve the importance of your attention span reading this email) but things are on the up-and-up. Got a great job, an amazing man, and just got engaged. I have my sh*t together.
It was one of those engagements where we had discussed getting married to death, went ring shopping many, many moons ago, and I was assaulting the UPS man every time he came to the door, hoping he had my mail-order ring in tow. Because I'm uber type A, I started planning our wedding a LONG time ago. I mean, to the point of making computer mock-ups of our invitations that won't be sent out till summer of 2012. Yea, that kinda Type A. And the plan in my head is quite perfect. An intimate wedding in the crimson-velvet-clad room of the city hall in Florence. 25 guests. The glory of the renaissance juxtaposed with my ultra-modern architectural dress (No, I haven't picked that out yet). The whole freaking thing was basically planned.
And then I got a ring on my finger and boarded the plane for Crazy Town, South Africa. People ask me when we're getting married and I just shrug and try to melt into the wall paper. There's already drama about people trying to bring their kids along--a no-no in my book--and all the resolve and toughness I'd practiced all these months when I imagined having to deal with this issue just evaporated. Now I'm making the boy handle it while I scream and grumble into my pillow. Don't get me wrong, I am PSYCHED to marry this guy. I'm just afraid of my own wedding. I'm scared of being the only one responsible for the wedding planning, even though I know my fiance will help. I'm scared of people hating our Italian wedding, which is just so US, because I'm so emotionally attached to our vision for the wedding. I have a big ball of tension in my chest when anyone asks about the wedding or I get palpitations when I get emails from the wedding planner.
I have this amazing fiance, a glorious wedding in the works, and at the end of the day, I just miss my mom. I'm so afraid that I can't do this without her. I'm afraid that no one will give it to me straight and tell me I'm on the wrong track like she could, when I try and force people to wear venetian masks and duel each other at the reception. I can't believe this planning has gone from a wonderfully fun thing I do at work when I'm not busy to a source of all this pain and worry! I feel like I can't breathe.
So what do I do? Do I suffer through this and give myself a sleeping disorder to have a wedding or is it too soon after Mom's death and I should elope and focus on my marriage to the man of my dreams?
Hyperventilating Into A Paper Bag
Postpone the wedding. You can do this without your mom, but you don't have to do it now.
Florence will be there in a year or three when you're ready to force your guests to wear Venetian masks (RAD) and actually enjoy it.
Image by Pom Pom Factory via Oh Joy! via Design*Sponge