Fairytales

I was putting my picture wall together when I sat down and looked at Michael and my wedding album to pick out pictures to use. I have never been the kind of girl who wanted all the pomp and circumstance when it came to getting married. I like planning weddings, I am just not all that hip to having to be in them. I like our wedding pictures, a perfect day in June with the sun shining, puffy white clouds in the sky adorned with a rainbow. It was lovely that day, if I don't think about all the ridiculous things that happened behind the scenes, with two left shoes my one bridesmaid had, or the seating chart problems, or the children resenting having to get dressed up in the heat of summer. Little did they know that Ohio hot is actually a reprieve. I had thought, a while back, I might like to be a wedding planner. I am good at finding things for next to nothing, squeezing every drop out of minutes, stretching them into fast moving hours to get everything done. I just never wanted all that for myself. I was an awkward bride, feeling very uncomfortable as the center of attention. Every eye on me as I walked down the isle made me very nervous, feeling nauseous and as though I might fall over. On our wedding day, I stayed focused on Michael at the end of the isle, glued to his smile, his eyes, I practically sprinted. While I had no desire to wear the gown or walk the long white covered isle, what I did want is the marriage. I looked at it as a small price to pay.
Years ago, my mom and I sat and watched Lady Diana Spencer marry His Royal Highness Prince Charles. I am a few years younger than Diana, so I was about seventeen at the time. We sat huddled on the couch, sipping coffee, watching the long procession, and the very young girl marry the prince. The royal wedding with all of it's traditions was something to behold. Mom and I oohed and ahhed at every detail that was carefully taken into consideration. And that dress...holy cow, I think about her dragging that huge dress around with a train that literally looked as though someone could climb into it and get lost forever.
The royal wedding itself, was magnificent, but what I remember the most was being with my mom. As a teenager, I made my mom earn every minute of her motherhood. By the time Prince charming married the girl, I was just starting to have a real relationship with my mom; up to that point we stayed in our separate corners, just trying to survive it. So many of my friends have lost their mothers. I see the pain in their words, the grief still barely visible to the naked eye. I called my mom yesterday and we made plans to watch the impending royal wedding on Friday together, by phone, only this time, my daughter will join us. I had asked Christy to get up and watch, too, but she declined saying, "I don't give a crap about that stuff." I knew she didn't care, but gave it a shot anyway, desperately trying to repeat the magic of the moment I had with my mom. Betty is the one who jumped at the chance to get up early and spend the morning with us old dogs, as we watch the next generation of royalty start their lives in earnest.
I surprise my husband with wanting see a wedding broadcast on TV. He knows I am not a wedding person, but this is different for me, it's more about the history than the wedding. I think some of my attachment has to do with the fact that Diana died a month before Danny. Her children were motherless, mine were were fatherless. I had watched the princes walk behind their mother's casket, only to watch my own children walk behind their father's casket a short while later. I felt an attachment to the young boys who were trying to cope with a devastating, life altering loss. Watching Prince William marry his long time girlfriend, seeing him happy, well, I think that gives me hope that these children, theirs and mine will be OK. For years, I worried about my children and the effect of losing their father. You get one set of parents. While Michael has been a brilliant step father, loving and kind, my children can not look at him and pick out which physical traits belong to them both. They all have so much of Danny within them. It's as plain as the nose on their faces, which belongs strictly to him.
I have all these emotional reasons for "royal watching". Back in 1997 when it seemed the tragedy in our lives would never evacuate, I wondered how it would all turn out. Would my kids be happy again? Would they grow up and be well adjusted people, or would this single event alter their future to the point they could not recover? I have heard it said, ad nauseum, that children are resilient. I believe whoever said that had no children of their own. That statement could not be made if one had ever spent time with a two year old. You cannot so much as take a toy away or refuse them a cookie without having them throw themselves to the ground screaming at the top of their lungs about how they could not continue in this life without that cookie. Does that sound even remotely resilient? I believe children are just tiny adults under construction. They don't handle things any better than we do. The difference for me is they have no choice, but to get on with it. They aren't healed at that point, they are merely mobile.
Friday's wedding is a marking of time for me. Where it had once been me sitting next to my mom with my entire adult life ahead of me, this time it will be my child, my youngest daughter, sipping coffee, laughing, acting awe struck by all the ceremony of the day. Every night when I tucked my kids into bed we had a ritual. We said "family prayer", we read favorite books, and in the end I stole a Steve Allen line, tucking them in, hugging them tight, I would whisper, "Remember, you had a happy childhood". As I look around the frat house, seeing bits and pieces of their childhood memories, I get to witness for myself, that indeed, they had. It turns out, they lived happily ever after.