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The Wedding - June 25, 2011Recently, I attended the wedding of one of my daughters schoolmates. The brides motherand I had become close friends over the years that our daughters had grown up. Althoughmy life had changed and changed again, we cherish our friendship.I arrived a bit late. What was normally a 90-minute drive had grown to over two hours withconstruction. By the time I got there I was not at my best. I already felt vulnerable andstressed. And the drive didnt help. But it always feels a bit uncomfortable to arrive alonewhen I know that all the guests will be couples. Not just couples, but couples from my past.Couples who knew me as a married woman and mother.Then the parking attendant explained that he was not to shuttle guests up the hill becausethe ceremony had begun. I thought he was kidding.There were five of us, of course, standing there; me and two other couples. I looked aroundand stated, fuck this. Im walking. The driveway is a steep half-mile affair that wendsthrough pepper trees and brush on its way to the house. I began walking. I was followed byone of the other couples.We hitched up our dresses and climbed the last little ridge, through the underbrush, toarrive in time to see the couple standing in front of the minister. The bride was attired in afantastic white satin gown, rouched up one side with assymetrical details. Her train hadbeen gathered around her feet. Beside her stood five bridesmaids wearing complimentaryshort, black satin dresses. To her right stood her groom in a classic tuxedo, accompanied byfive handsome men in similar attire. Guests sat in two neat columns of white wooden chairs.The minister stood beneath a trellis that framed the setting sun over the horizon. Thehilltop home was behind us, itself dressed to the nines, awaiting the flow of guests as theyarrived.It was a beautiful sight, full of the promise of tomorrow. The sweet, fresh breath of it filledthe air like the tight pull on a violin string. It hung suspended on every heart as we took inall the meaning and seriousness of the occasion.I thought of my friendship with the brides mom, how it had begun when the bride was anew student at my daughters school. It did not seem that long ago that they were just children enjoying a pool party together. But it was a quarter century past. And so much hadtranspired.Over the course of the evening, I wandered through the guests. I could not shake the feelingthat I was an outsider. It was uncomfortable. I was different. I had been married and I hadlived in one of those houses. I had a family, too. We worried about what car to buy and howto decorate our home. We shared the same cleaning services and pool maintenance. Wetalked about our investments and business. We shared recipes and carpools.It seemed so long ago. Everything was different now. I was on the outside looking in.I began to introduce myself to people I didnt know. I tried to make conversation withpeople I did know. I felt stupid and clumsy, and wondered what I was doing wrong. I askedthem about how they were doing and got monosyllabic responses. They were not interestedin talking to me. They moved on. I explained that I didnt know anyone, and that helped.

Everyone was nice, but they had been bonding over this wedding for months because theylived in close proximity.Eventually, the DJ asked us to be seated as the groom took the bride out to the dance floor tohave their first dance as a married couple. Images of my own wedding came to mind. Theywere charming, with her considerable train fastened up beneath a corseted bodice.Everyone was invited to join them on the floor. Suddenly there was an exodus of peopleleaving their tables and only a few of us were left behind.I couldnt believe I was among those left behind. I was always the first person on the dancefloor. I was horrified at how old and small I felt. I made a note of it. After the dance, theybegan the toasts. The bridesfather arrived at the mike carrying a handwritten, carefullyprepared speech.My daughter is the ray of sunshine in the room when she enters. She is the light in my life,he said. I like this man; he has good taste. He picked her.As I listened I felt intensely sad. My daughters father passed away this winter. When hewas diagnosed with terminal cancer his first words were about Eliza.I wont be there to walk her down the aisle, he said to me. There were tears in both oureyes. I knew how much it meant to him. When I saw that exchange, it brought back to mehow terribly sad that feels, how lonely and helpless. Aside from being outside thecomfortable boundaries of this world of my former peers, I am also a widower; we are afamily without our rudder. We have lost our focus and we cannot grow a new one. It is onlymy daughter and I, and we are all we have.While he was ill, Elizas boyfriend flew from Hawaii and made a special trip to the hospitalto visit her dad. They had a private conversation. I do not know what that conversationentailed, but I do know he loves Eliza deeply. She has a rich romance with a pretty great guywho wants to give her everything humanly possible. I believe he asked her father for herhand in marriage. I also believe he is trying to achieve an income level that will make themboth comfortable and secure before he asks her.Four months after my husband passed away, Eliza earned her Masters in PublicAdministration and a degree in law from the University of Hawaii. It takes a very dedicatedand special girl to follow through in the wake of all that loss and to achieve those lofty goals while working and starting a new relationship. She is a spectacular woman with rare focusand dedication. I am so proud of her.My pride only underscores the failure I feel that I will not be able to afford her the kind of wedding that she deserves when that moment arrives. Not in my current financial situation.Most importantly, I will not be able to supply her with the dad that she wants and needs sodesperately.My sadness is a deep, dark pit of sorrow. I am only touching the surface when I think of thiswedding. I am speaking to the darkness I feel about my own sense of abandonment, loss,being an outsider, vilification, injustice, shame, guilt, despair, loneliness . . .