Afterword

INCONGRUITIES

Wedding by the Water With 190 Guests- $35,000

Honeymoon Vacation to Los Cabos, Mexico (Lindsay & Scott didn’t win)- $15,000, 
A Healthy Child- Priceless

All right, it’s a little “cliché”- my title- but I couldn’t resist.  It is two months since the wedding.  The fall has set in.  The air is crisp and chilly; this morning I could see my breath as I stepped in my yard to let Sonny out, dead leaves crackling under my feet on the frost covered grass.  I love the fall, although, there is something beautiful and sad about it at the same time. The picture postcard trees are full with illuminated warmth of colorful leaves and then in a blink of an eye- they are bare and skeleton-like preparing for the coldness of winter. It’s like life- and it’s incongruity. 

This blog I began remains a part of me.  And because of so much left unfinished- the wedding show Lindsay was a part of and her discovered congenital health problem- I needed to write an “Afterword” which would in some way complete it even though there really are no completions…life goes on and new journeys begin.  However, there were parts to this journey that didn’t reach the destination as the wedding had.  The first part was the unexpected illness that we had found out about which put Lindsay in the hospital twice with bouts of pancreatitis.  It also prevented her from going on the honeymoon she and Scott had planned because of the stent that was left in her bile duct.  The second part was the impending outcome of the wedding show that Lindsay had appeared on, which was a competition ultimately for a honeymoon.  Lindsay and Scott thought for sure that, in all fairness, they should win that honeymoon, not only because they felt that they had the best wedding but they deserved it because of all she went through. 

On October 22^nd, Lindsay and Scott hosted their first official get-together at their new home.  The occasion- to watch the wedding show on The Learning Channel and find out if they had in fact, won the honeymoon.  Naturally, they both knew the outcome but were under contractual obligation and had to sign a release stating that they would not reveal it before the airing of the show.  It was a much-needed juncture to soothe the “after the wedding” blues we were all feeling.  The anticipation of seeing our wedding and all of us on national TV brought back the excitement of the wedding itself.  Lindsay, it seemed, got the most airtime of all the four girls in the competition and not only did the camera love her, but she was hysterically funny.  And then the moment came to disclose the winners and to everyone’s shock and dismay- it was not Lindsay and Scott, even though they scored the highest on “overall experience” and “venue”.  Lindsay came in second.  To this day, everyone who watched- even people who didn’t know us felt Lindsay should have won. Winning isn’t everything though; it’s all the way you look at it. The consolation prize was seeing Lindsay on TV.  My actress daughter- finally was not in the background of some movie or television series as she had been in the past.  On top of that, Phyllis, her mother-in-law, came to the conclusion that she was really made for this.  It was bittersweet- beautiful and a little sad at the same time; just like the fall.

The most important journey we had to complete, though, was Lindsay’s surprise illness.  Dr. #1, whom we had put all our faith and trust into, turned out to be a complete disappointment and really didn’t have any answers or any cure to her condition.  We moved onto Dr. #2, who performed a fourth ERCP and disclosed the most viable solution was surgery…on her liver- and recommended one of the most renowned surgeons- Dr. #3.  Voila!  There was a cure.  We had traveled the “yellow brick road”, which was rocky and full of obstacles when the “click of the shoes” to get us to the desired destination was where we should have gone all along.  Still, the thought of surgery was quite unnerving.  However, as doctors #2 and #3 had told us- it was the only way to completely prevent bile duct cancer, which she had a 50% chance of getting by the time she was 50, without the surgery.

On Wednesday, November 3^rd, Lindsay, Scott, Mark, Phyllis and I went into Manhattan for the operation.  We spoke to all the doctors who explained patiently what was going to take place, including her anesthesiology team- Drs. Zhu, Wu and Lu. (I did not make that part up.)  We said farewell to our tiny Lindsay- wife, daughter, daughter-in-law as she entered the operating room looking beautiful and frightened at the same time.  Memories of the first time I dropped her off at Pre-School surfaced that moment.  I recall the trepidation I felt as she entered those enormous big doors to the school even as the kind-hearted school aides guided her in as I said goodbye.  That first day was long and hard without her.  But the doors to that operating room were not as kind- they were the “whale’s” mouth to me even as the kind-hearted nurses guided her in.  That day was the hardest in my life.  We waited together and in silence as Lindsay’s diseased bile duct was removed, along with her gall bladder and then replaced with a piece of her intestine that was sewed on.  Three and a half hours- the longest three and a half hours I ever endured.  Finally, Dr. #3, my real hero, came out to find us.  His smile said it all.  He took my hand to shake it but held it instead as if he knew that’s just what I needed- the touch of reassurance.  The touch of the end of the nightmare… you can wake up now- it is going to be okay.  He told us all that it went well.  She will be fine. 

Scott and Lindsay spent the night of their two-month anniversary in the hospital.  It wasn’t much of a celebration but they had each other and a much brighter future to look forward to.  He brought her beautiful flowers.  She was still very much in pain, though.  Scott has been by her side the whole time.  He is her rock now, her comfort….in sickness and in health.  The recovery will be four to six weeks.  They have planned to take their honeymoon in February.  Her digestive system has been reconstructed although my daughter is quite concerned about the scar on her perfect flat belly and whether she will ever be able to wear a bikini again, especially on her honeymoon. I will always look at that scar as a reminder of fall – beautiful and sad at the same time, as incongruous as life. 

All destinations are reached now; let the new journeys begin.

 

The Destination: It Was Perfect- And A Day of “Verklempt”

Verklempt (or farklempt) Yiddish- extremely emotional- on the verge of tears

It was 4:30am, although I awoke after maybe two hours of sleep at 4:00am. The doorbell rang and there was Teresa, our hairdresser, equipped with blow dryer, curling iron, brushes, hair ornaments, bobby pins, tons of hair spray and her usual big smile. “Good morning,” she giggled, “I think the only ones up are us and Newsday.” 

And so it began- the day- THE DAY of the wedding. Teresa set up shop in our dining room. At 5:00am, Holly, the makeup artist, arrived with her tools. At the crack of dawn we were all wide-awake, getting ourselves beautiful. At 5:30am, the videographer, Chris and assistant Kim, arrived to start chronicling the day’s events. Soon after, came Dee, the photographer. It was like a movie set- hair, makeup, props and cameras. 

They took pictures of everything- the rings, the shoes, the jewelry, the invitation- in distinct ways. One time I came into my bedroom and there was one of them, Dee, I think, who was standing on my bed, taking a picture of Lindsay’s wedding dress, which was sprawled out on my pillow shams. Another time, he asked me for a couple of sheets, which were draped over Lindsay, who was undressed, to take interesting seductive bride photos.  It was a frenetic whirl of many things going on at once, that ironically, were very well organized. I started to write down some dialogue that was worth noting, just to write something to remember this day tangibly:

Lindsay: “Holly, can you make my pimple disappear?”

Mark: “Can I use the bathroom yet?!”

Me (after Holly applied my mom’s makeup): “Mom, you look like a movie star!”

Mom: “I am a movie star.”

Mark: “Can I use the bathroom yet?!”

Anya: “I’m Anya, the photographer.”

Mark: “Oh…the forty-seventh one!” then “Can I use the bathroom yet?!”

I probably will always recall the doorbell ringing almost every five minutes as people arrived- my brother-in-law, Scott, dropping off Stephanie, my niece; Lindsay’s friend, Jaime, coming to get my mom, Stephanie and my other niece, Julianna to drive them to get their hair done at the neighborhood salon that opened extra early for the bridal party; the day of coordinator, Danielle, running back and forth between our house and the salon to check to make sure everything was on time; our next door neighbor, Nicole, coming to pick up Sonny to watch him for the day for us; the florist delivering the bouquets. 

We had to be at the Riviera, the wedding venue, by about 9:00am to start taking photos of the bride and groom, bridal party and family. At around 7:30am all the bridesmaids, Erica, Jaimie, Julia, Julianna, Lisa, Michele and Steph were in my house, hair and makeup done, along with the two flower girls, Gianna and Marisa and were ready to get dressed. Luckily, I had asked Diana, my mother’s companion to come in the morning to help my mom get dressed; she was a godsend. My mother had asked me about ten times where we had put her shoes. I told her they were right on the top shelf of her closet. I knew I should have taken them down, but I thought Diana would be able to find them. I was relieved when my mother appeared all dressed and looking absolutely gorgeous. She sat down on a chair across from me in the dining room. Then it hit me. I think it was around the time that Kimberly informed us that the brooch she bought to put on her maid of honor dress to make it a little different from the bridesmaids’ dresses had broken. 

After a whole week of me being the calm one and Lindsay being the stressed one, we switched roles- Lindsay became the calm one and I started panicking. While I was getting my hair curled, I asked my mom to come and hold my hand. The photographer, Dee, noticed this and thought it was an opportune time to take a picture. So he started snapping shots of me and my mom as she calmed my nerves by just holding my hand as Teresa did my hair; he snapped shots of just our hands, and then he brought Lindsay’s hands into the picture, making sure all our diamond rings were showing- three generations of hands. Teresa finished my hair and sewed on Kim’s brooch. A hairdresser who sews- what more could you ask for?

Finally it was time to get Lindsay into her dress, while being photographed, of course. We were running behind schedule. He suggested I get into my dress first, for the pictures. My dress had what my seamstress called an invisible zipper, which was going to be tricky. I prayed…to the G-d of zippers to come through for me, while Lindsay and Danielle and I think two others tried to zip up the tricky, invisible zipper. My prayers were answered. Then Lindsay noticed, “What is that black and blue mark from?” That’s when I remembered just last week I had walked backwards into a wall at work and said to myself, “Perfect, you are going to have a black and blue mark on your back that is not going to be covered by the dress you are wearing to Lindsay’s wedding.” “It kind of matches the color of your gown,” Lindsay said. My gown was a light, flowing one shoulder with an embellished bustline and ruche bottom in a silvery slate blue. “Don’t worry, Holly will cover it up,” Lindsay reassured me. Holly applied some make up on it. 

The next zipper I prayed to the zipper G-d for was Lindsay’s after I hooked what seemed like 25 hooks on the corset attached to her modified, mermaid-wedding gown, while being photographed, naturally. The zipper G-d came through again. Earrings. Necklace. Bracelets. Rings. More photos. Then shoes. Then head piece. Then Veil. More photos. 

The Limo arrived. Somehow, sometime during all this hustle and bustle Mark was able to get into the bathroom to shower at last and get dressed in his tux. He looked so darn handsome. We all looked beautiful. The sun had risen during all our primping to a magnificent blue sky reminiscent of my father’s eyes and coincidently matching the color of my mother’s dress. 

We were ready to leave. One minor problem- we had one bouquet missing. Someone called the florist. The bouquet was at the Riviera. We all packed into the limousine and headed to the wedding. At that moment I was glad I lost that argument with Lindsay and Scott about not needing the limos they insisted on. I looked at Julia and Erica and remembered the times I sent Lindsay off with them in limos to Junior and High School proms. I looked at Lisa and remembered Lindsay’s first year of college and all her acting years. I reflected on how the years had flown by and realized how much more rapidly this day was going to fly by. I could see the glorious blue sky enveloping us outside the windows of the limo. That blue sky was my father looking down on me, I decided. I took it in, all of it. I relished that moment. The weather was a perfect 10. Lindsay was sitting next to my mother in the limo. She looked so beautiful. It was like a dream, but better.

We arrived at the Riviera at 9:30, a half hour behind schedule, but not too bad. Phil and Phyllis, Scott’s parents were there already. Phyllis looked elegant in her gold organza gown. Vickie, the best caterer in the whole darn world, was preparing us for the reveal- when Scott sees Lindsay in her wedding dress for the first time. We got the extra bouquet, thank goodness. Things were going okay. My sister-in-law, Bonni, and best wedding planner in the whole darn world came in right after us- but her expression worried me. She told me that my brother, who was in charge of her three sons while she got the rest of the stuff together, forgot to take my 12-year old nephew, Max’s jacket. Max was the groomsman, who was walking my mom down the aisle. I looked at Max; yes indeed, he did not have his jacket. My brother, with my nephew, Jake, had to go back to his house to get the jacket. I prayed to the G-d of photos that my brother and Jake would return in time to be in the family photo.

We headed out to the back by the gazebo, elegantly decorated with tropical flowers, at the end of the paved aisle, overlooking the water on the Great South Bay for the reveal. Lovely swans sat on the water. Somebody asked me about my black and blue mark.

We all watched as Scott faced the Great South Bay and the photographer and videographer shot the scene of Lindsay coming up behind him dressed as his bride, until he was told he could turn around and see her for the first time. It was so sweet when they saw each other. Indescribable. They looked so happy. He picked her up and spun her around. The photographers started taking the photos, while the items for the ceremony were arranged and the DJ set up his equipment. He took pictures of the bridal party first, then Scott’s family, who were all there, as we stalled waiting for my brother-in-law, sister-in-law, who just had back surgery and was not moving too fast these past days along with their son and my sisters and brother-in- law and nephew and my brother and nephew, who would have been there if it weren’t for the jacket he left behind. Finally, everyone came, except for my brother and nephew and now they’re not in the family picture. Even though I thought maybe we would get another opportunity when he arrived, it never came.

Guests were arriving; we were rushed past them as we went to take our places for the ceremony. Lindsay and Scott went to meet with the rabbi to sign the ketubah- Jewish marriage contract. My mother told me she was having problems with her shoes. I looked down at her feet and saw that the strap kept slipping down, then I looked more closely and horrified, I realized- THESE WERE THE WRONG SHOES!! I wanted to kick myself for not taking the right shoes down from the closet. It was totally my fault. Diana found shoes that were similar, but they were the ones that my mom wore on her 50^th wedding anniversary. They were not the newer, more comfortable ones we just bought. There was nothing I could do. I asked Danielle, the day of coordinator for some advice. “Take her stockings off. Then her feet won’t slip in them.” I grabbed my two sisters to help her do this. It worked, thankfully. 

More and more guests were arriving.  I became so overwhelmed with excitement and happiness. We just had the ceremony to get through and then we could just relax and celebrate, as Vickie, the best caterer in the whole darn world had promised.

We waited by the doors to the garden as they seated the guests. I saw my friends and family. Almost everyone in the world whom I loved was there to share our joy. I was bursting with emotion. I couldn’t think of the word that described how I was feeling, but I knew there was one. 

The DJ began the music and Max walked my mom down the aisle, followed by the bridesmaids in their red dresses, holding their tropical colored bouquets beside each groomsmen. The best man walked down next. Then, Phil and Phyllis walked Scott down the aisle in Jewish tradition. After them, came the flower girls, Gianna and Marisa, dressed in white with red sashes, throwing flower petals from their baskets. Next, came Kimberly, maid of honor, extraordinarily beautiful on this day, glowing. And then it was our turn. 

A little over a year had passed.  The planning was done. Every detail, put together, with some minor upsets. I was the mother of the bride; Mark was the father of the bride. We were at the threshold to a milestone that parents dared to dream of. It was one of the most precious moments of my life.  Mark turned to me, happy tears filling his eyes and said, “I think I might lose it.”  I knew.  He felt it too.  He was bursting- but I couldn’t think of that word to describe the feeling. I put my arm in his as we walked down the steps, down the aisle, looking at Vickie, for the cue for where to stand to wait for Lindsay. The song “Feels Like Home” began to play, as Lindsay had planned, as she walked towards us. It was everything I ever dreamed of, but more.

And Mark and I, the parents of the bride walked our little girl (I can still call her a little girl because she’s only 4’10”) down the aisle as the blue sky surrounded us and the blue water of the Great South Bay sparkled like stars, just beyond the gazebo/chuppah, as the most important people in our lives stood to watch us. We each kissed her on either cheek, and left her for her groom, Scott, to join her and walk together down the aisle as we joined the Rabbi and Phil and Phyllis under the chuppah.

The ceremony was so lovely, pure and heartfelt.  The rabbi talked about the Jewish customs of marriage; we helped by reciting the seven blessings.  But the most touching part was when Scott and Lindsay read their vows. It was the first time anyone had ever heard them.  How blessed I was to witness this, to see Lindsay and Scott, never taking their eyes off one another, so happy, so happy. I breathed it all in. And I thought, I will never question whether heaven exists, because I was right there at that moment- a place where only blue skies, sparkling water and genuine love exist. I will cherish that moment for as long as I live. 

The bride and groom exchanged rings- Mark’s father’s and my mother’s rings were used (something old, something borrowed).  Phyllis and I were presented with roses.  Red and beige sand were poured in a jar to symbolize uniting the two families.  Scott broke the glass.  A hum of Mazel Tovs. And a kiss. 

At the end there was the special surprise, Phil and Phyllis’ wedding gift- the releasing of the white doves- the first, to symbolize the people no longer with us- my dad, Mark’s parents, Aunt Laura, Phyllis’ parents and Phil’s parents. Then the second, to symbolize the marriage of Lindsay and Scott. The doves flew out of their heart-shaped cages into the blue sky- separately, then joined as a flock in the picture perfect blue sky– splendid! I was bursting with emotion, again. I heard everyone was. I was told there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. I still couldn’t find the word to describe it.

The party began- there was an indoor/outdoor cocktail hour with steel drums playing on the patio outside. It made it feel like you were on a cruise. The guests were saying it felt like a destination wedding. The three other brides from the reality TV show were there with the camera crew from TLC, but you never would have known it. They blended in. We mingled with them. They loved the ceremony. Everyone loved the ceremony. A few more people asked about my black and blue mark.

Everyone loved everything. I know I doubted “perfect” before, but everyone kept telling me it was perfect. They kept using the word “perfect” to describe it, to describe everything about it. Perfect. The food. Perfect. The DJ. Perfect. The Chocolate Fountain. Perfect. Kim’s speech that brought her to tears and everyone else; Mark’s speech that brought him to tears and everyone else. The father/daughter dance to Heartland’s I Loved Her First, followed by a surprise song of Red Rubber Ball- the song Mark and Lindsay used to sing together all the time. The mother/son dance. Perfect. Lindsay surprising Scott by singing him the Madonna song, True Love. Perfect. My mom looking so beautiful, even though a little uncomfortable with the wrong shoes on. It was an amazing, glorious day, weather and all.

But besides being perfect, everyone was bursting with emotion. I think Bonni cried through the whole day. At one point, Meryl, my best friend, who came all the way from Florida with Steve, her husband, who were there at my wedding 32 years ago, who made me walk up and down their kitchen stool to try to induce me into labor the night before Lindsay was born, turned and said to me, “Oy, I’m so verklempt!” That’s the word! That’s the word I couldn’t think of- Verklempt! Then Bonni turned to me and said, “I’m verklempt, I’m just verklempt!.” I think at least ten more people came over to say they were verklempt, mostly if they were Jewish, because it is a Yiddish word. However, I thought I did hear my friends, Janet and Cathy tell me they were verklempt and they’re Italian, although, maybe I’m just imagining it. In any case, I’m sure they’ll be saying it in the future.

So it’s over, officially.  It was.  It was two days ago. It was spectacular. The best day of my life, for sure, except for when I gave birth to my babies; however, I looked a lot better at the wedding. And yes it did go by fast. That was no surprise.  So what.  Because while it was happening, it was everything I ever dreamed of, but a million times more amazing than that.  And it was perfect- except for my brother and nephew not being in the family picture, my black and blue mark and my mother’s shoe mix-up.  It was as perfect as that evanescent butterfly, briefly kissing your skin, as delicate as a baby’s touch.

Monday morning, after I went into my mom’s closet and found the right shoes that we bought but she didn’t wear, I said to her what I thought my Grandma Fanny would have said.

You know, ma. You were supposed to wear those shoes to the wedding. Even though they were uncomfortable. Those were the shoes that you wore to your 50^th wedding anniversary party. It was a sign- they were ‘good luck’ shoes for Lindsay and Scott’s wedding. This means they are going to have a long and happy life together.

“You think so?” she asked me.

Yes. I really do.

The journey is finished. All good things come to an end at some point. I hung my mother of the bride dress up in the closet and hung Lindsay’s wedding gown in what used to be her room. What will I do now? I’m a lot relieved and a little sad that it is all behind me. What will I do now? I think to myself. I can dare to imagine another wedding, with my little butterfly, sweet Kim, as the bride- (Mother of the Bride, Two???). What will I do now?  Well right now, I am savoring the sweetness of perfection in my memories of being the mother of the bride.  And I’m also feeling a little verklempt.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday- The Last Week of the Journey, The Road to Perfection

Today was the last day of this wedding journey. Tomorrow is the destination. Two hurricanes passed by yesterday without incident. Triumphantly, the sun glistened brilliantly this morning outside my kitchen window while Sonny laid on his side on the window seat, fast asleep, unaware that one of the most important days of our lives is just one day away. We bought him a tuxedo vest, despite protest from Mark, so he can be part of the photographs and memories of the wedding day. We had a hectic week of last-minute preparations. I feel as triumphant as the sun when I look at “The Friday List” of things to do that is completely checked off with things accomplished. I am just as elated looking at the “The Saturday List” mostly completed.

If one more person tells me that the wedding day is going to go by so fast, I might scream. The whole week flew by. A week full of daily drama and disappointments, though minor. The problem with brides is that they need to take the word “perfect” out of their expectations. Perfection does not exist. It is the elusive butterfly that appears for an instant, and then flutters away defying you to remember its magnificence. If everything were perfect, there would be no stories to tell. We have a lot of stories to tell about this week. A lot of interesting, funny stories- the kind that you weren’t laughing at while it happened to you- the kind that make life worth living.

The best thing about this week was that I had my mother here to witness it, to share it, to reminisce with me. I must have turned to her at least once every day to say what would I do without you? Her response would always be the same- what would I do without you? During all the driving around and in and out of places, she would tell me stories about her wedding. She remembered every detail and every story- funny, sad and disappointing stories. I made her tell them over and over again as we ran around doing errands.

I remember growing up loving to go through my parent’s black and white wedding album. I used to gaze at the famous picture of her whole entire family at the time- The Waltzers. She was the youngest of eight children- six boys and 2 girls and the last to get married. There were already thirteen grandchildren by the time her wedding took place. The famous picture was of my mother’s parents, all her brothers and sister and their spouses and their children sitting around my mother and father, the bride and groom. That picture was like the Mona Lisa to me- the Waltzer family. When my parents celebrated their 50^th wedding anniversary, my cousin Nancy had that picture blown up into poster size. And when my mother and Aunt Semmie moved into a shared suite at the Bristal Assisted Living, my cousin Garie also had blown up a copy of that same picture and had it framed. I think that photograph means the same to a lot of my cousins.

When my mother was getting married, she told me how her parents couldn’t really afford to make her a wedding. She knew she had to have some kind of wedding, though, because she always promised my cousin Regina, her niece, that she would be her maid of honor. My mother told my grandma that many of her friends’ weddings were paid for by their siblings. So, all her brothers chipped in and made her a wedding. They were all musicians- pretty famous musicians; so naturally, my mother had a first rate band for her wedding because all my uncle’s friends were in it. The Waltzers had a way about them- they could make beer look and taste like champagne. My Uncle Ruby used to say all the time, “We’re the greatest!” Whatever money they pooled together wasn’t much- just enough to make a cocktail hour- ceremony in a synagogue, then drinks and hors d’oeurves in an adjoining room. My uncles told my mom- “This is like a society wedding.” She wore a beautiful light blue wedding gown- strapless- just like Lindsay’s. The seamstress made her a jacket to cover her shoulders for the ceremony. It was the hottest day of the year. And in 1952, there was no air conditioning. To make matters worse, the rabbi, delayed at a funeral and stuck in traffic, was two hours late. My grandma, the one whose optimism I inherited, turned to my mother and said, in her Polish accent “You veren’t supposed to have gotten married until that hour- tventy minutes after 3:00. This is vhat vill make the marriage vork.” Everyone ate the hors d’oeurves while waiting for the rabbi, everyone except for my mother. She didn’t even eat at her own wedding. Almost everything that could go wrong went wrong. But her dress was beautiful and her wedding album showed happy smiling faces of family and friends dancing to the music and having a good time eating all the hors d’oeurves. And Grandma was right- their marriage lasted 55 years.

This week my mother was like a good luck charm, guiding me through all the dramas of a bride seeking perfection. A very stressed bride, who scrutinized her wedding gown when she picked it up, who had her eyebrows waxed and came out of the room as if it was the end of the world because the lady made them too thin. This was a scene where she was hyperventilating in the car, crying and hyperventilating to her makeup artist, Holly, who had to make a special trip to pencil in her eyebrows again. Problem solved. All this stress, however, caused a pimple, the size of Texas it seems to Lindsay, to appear on her chin, one day before her wedding. And what does everyone say to her? –“Don’t worry, you’ll be beautiful, the makeup and the photographers airbrushing will cover everything- it will be perfect. The day goes by so fast. It will be over before you know it.” Stop saying that already!!!

I don’t want it to be over. I honestly don’t. What will I do? Today I went into Michael’s Craft Store- I think I’ve been in there fifty times this year. I suddenly realized this was the last time I will have a reason to go there for anything for this wedding planning year. It made me sad. When I got home, I saw that Mark had hung the “Here Comes the Bride Banner” on our front door. I added the wedding bells and gold ribbon. We went out for dinner, the last time as a family of the four of us (with my mom, of course), the last time when Lindsay will be a Feldman. We ate at our favorite Thai restaurant, the one where we held Lindsay and Scott’s engagement party. Yes. It went by so fast. Tonight, I must get a good night’s sleep. I have to be up at 4:30am to start the day. The long-anticipated day. It will fly in like that evanescent butterfly. I will try my best, as I’ve been told by many to soak in every single moment, to take it in, in its full dimension. Because all too soon, it will be a two-dimensional photo album that my granddaughter might gaze at one day. Now that would be perfect.

And the Cast Grows Larger…

Yes. Cast. Because my daughter’s wedding is not only a wedding, but also a TV show. Yes. We have joined the millions of other people who have become part of the growing phenomena of reality TV. The show that Lindsay is on is about four brides competing for a honeymoon. The brides attend each other’s weddings and rate them. The highest rating wins the honeymoon- valued at about 15 to 20 thousand dollars. So, there will be three extra people at the wedding, who will be critiquing it on camera eventually to be shown on national TV. Naturally, everything has to be perfect. And that means if there’s a bone in the filet of fish, you will lose points. For sure. The reality of the reality TV show became more actuality when we (and when I say “we” I mean about eight of us) were meeting with our very favorite wedding caterer, Vickie, to make and pay for the final arrangements. The actuality struck me when Vickie said the words “camera crew”. Those two words-camera crew- were not in our vocabulary when we began this journey. But life-as this year has proven- holds many surprises.

The night of making final arrangements was towards the end of a very hectic week of dealing with the unexpected- the unexpected in terms of Sonny our almost eight-month old Cockapoo puppy. It began with my dreams. I am a little bit psychic and my dreams sometimes are premonitions of what is to come. I am sounding a little strange, but I think many writers are a little atypical. Anyway my dreams foretell the future in some way or warn me about things. One night I dreamt that Sonny ran away. The next day as I was doing some work in the kitchen and I dared to allow Sonny to wander aimlessly around the house, I went to check on him. He has a cat-like habit of walking on the back of our sectional. And that’s just where I busted him- eating my English Ivy plant that was supposedly out of his reach. So after scolding him and sticking my fingers down his throat to see what I could retrieve, I googled “if your dog eats an English Ivy plant..” And the responses I got were “call the vet, take him to the vet immediately, call the ASPCA," etc. etc. Obviously, this was not good news. So I called the vet. “How much did he eat?” Dr. Gotthelf asked. “How much did you eat?” I asked Sonny. Sonny didn’t know, nor did I. “Do you have hydrogen peroxide in the house?” Dr. Gotthelf inquired. “If I did, it would surprise me,” I responded. “Well, give him a tablespoon with a dropper and he should throw it up. Then watch him for the next 24 hours.” I went looking for the hydrogen peroxide and was surprised to find it in Kimberly’s bathroom; however, I could not locate a dropper. The only thing remotely close to a dropper was my turkey baster. So Sonny boy got a hefty shot of peroxide basting down his throat. In less than five minutes he threw up on my $900 rug that he’s been chewing holes in. I was able to see how much English Ivy he ate along with all the tissues he’s been stealing out of my mother’s garbage pail. He was fine for the rest of the day, but unfortunately my $900 rug is in really bad shape. The next night, I had another dream about Sonny; he was running around the yard, then disappeared and came back with different hair. The next day, my mother and Diana- who is my mother’s companion and takes care of Sonny for me also- were sitting in the backyard when I came home with some groceries. As I was unpacking I saw Diana come through the sliders and leave through the front door. I followed her. I noticed that she was holding Sonny’s leash and collar, but there was no Sonny. “Is everything alright?” I asked, knowing it wasn’t. “No,” responded Diana, “Sonny got through a hole in the fence and is in the yard of the neighbor behind you. I’m going to get him now.” There was supposed to be no way for Sonny to get out of the backyard because Mark had checked for holes in the fence but he must have missed this one. I decided to go back to my backyard while Diana tried to retrieve him the other way. I was going to rely on the slight possibility that Sonny would come when I called “Come”. Sometimes Sonny comes; but only when he decides he’s good and ready. First, I went to the bushes and called over the fence to the neighbor behind me, whom I never met, “Is my dog still there?” I yelled. “Yes,” responded a man’s voice. I couldn’t see him but he sounded a little nervous; I thought I heard Sonny romping around like a lunatic on the other side. “Can you get him out of here soon because I’m afraid of dogs,” said the voice of the man. Wonderful, I thought. I called, “Sonny!!!” And then, as if appearing from thin air- just like in my dream, out came my very naughty puppy, although his hair was the same; however, at that instant, I did realize how much he had grown over the last few months. Whew! I went to sleep that night, relieved and hopeful that I would have no more dreams.

On Thursday, Kim, my mom and my sister-in-law, Bonni met at the Bridal shop for the final fitting of Lindsay’s gown. As we were waiting for Lindsay, a girl came over to me to introduce herself; she said she was Danielle. At first, I must have looked a little puzzled, then she further explained, “I’m the day of coordinator.” I remembered that Lindsay had told me about Danielle- that this was a barter type of deal. Scott and Lindsay were helping Danielle and her fiancé out with their stuff, in exchange for Danielle being Lindsay’s day of coordinator. The TV show will also give Danielle some publicity for her day of coordinator business. Dan, Danielle’s fiancé was building Lindsay and Scott’s deck in the backyard also as barter for Scott’s being the DJ and photographer for their engagement party and Lindsay doing Danielle’s makeup. [Dan and Danielle- cute- sounds like Phil and Phyllis (Scott’s parents)]. Danielle explained to me what exactly she’s going to be doing the day of the wedding. “I will be taking care of Lindsay- helping her put on her dress, helping her go to the bathroom, fanning her if she’s hot- all the things you won’t have to do so you can take care of yourself, not worry about Lindsay at all, and enjoy the wedding.” I wanted to say where were you the last 27 years? There could have been many times I could have used a day of coordinator to take care of Lindsay, especially the time I lost her on the beach, when she was 6, for the longest 30 minutes of my life.

So, we had an entourage for Lindsay’s final fitting. However there was one point when I forced myself to tune out and fade out everyone except for my older daughter and me as I admired her in her wedding dress. It was my “moment”. I allowed myself to revel in this moment, to embrace its significance as a milestone in my life as a mother. I thought for that one instant how incredible this moment is- as incredible as when I held her for the first time in a pink hospital blanket- a moment any mother dares to imagine. Then I let my mother in my moment- for it was just as incredible for her to see her first granddaughter in her wedding dress. Then I let her Aunt Bonni in my moment, who adored her as her first niece, her quasi-little girl before she had children of her own. And then, Kim came in my moment, who must have been thinking how she used to play bride-dress-up all the time with her older sister, and possibly might be imagining herself in a wedding dress some day. And finally, what the heck, I let Danielle in my moment, even though I just met her, because after all, she was the day of coordinator. The dreamlike scene ended abruptly and it became frenetic and hectic as usual, with all of us asking questions and making sure that every single part of that dress was as flawless as possible before the seamstress puts her final stitches in.

Our busy night continued as we sped off to the caterer, meeting Scott there and the florist. We had to go over every last feature of the wedding, from the table linens to the centerpieces to the runner for the aisle, blah, blah, blah. Everyone was talking at once. Everyone had ideas and more ideas and better ideas. At one point, I got up to sit next to my mother, the only one not speaking. She leaned over to me, “I think you need about two more coordinators,” she said in her most facetious voice. Vickie, our caterer, finally put on her teacher voice and shut us all up. “I think we have too many chiefs here,” she bellowed. The cacophony ended; though, only for about ten minutes while Vickie ran the show. Then it began again. It seemed to last forever. Bonni said at one point, “I have a manicure in 12 hours, let’s wrap this up.” I got up to ask about using a restroom; I didn’t want to disrupt the wedding that was going on while we were meeting. Vickie directed me to a smaller bridal suite right at the bottom of the staircase. It was a lovely little room with a beautiful private bathroom. When I came back, I asked Vickie, “Can that be my and my mom’s bathroom during the wedding?” “That’s the room where the camera crew is going to be,” she responded. She must have seen me wince at that. “But I’m sure you can go in and use the bathroom while they’re there,” she added, appeasing me, with a big smile and a few nods for added emphasis.

Yesterday, we went to Teresa, our hairstylist. I had my hair dyed, keeping it my new red shade, which everyone seems to like and did a trial for my hairstyle for the wedding. Bouncy big and little curls. We went over the logistics and time frame for next week with Teresa. We will begin at 4:30 in the morning with our makeup, hairstyling, and dressing and then camera crews..yes…camera crews.

Lights, camera, action… my daughter’s wedding- one week from today.

"All right, Mr. De Mille, I'm ready for my closeup"

Yikes

Yikes..Two more weeks. Mostly everything is behind us now on this wedding journey. The only thing ahead is the wedding itself. Last Tuesday we had the rehearsal dinner with most of the players, minus one bridesmaid- cousin Julianna from Arizona and groomsmen, Herb, who was at a Yankee game and Chad, whose whereabouts were never explained to me. Anthony, from the Riviera, directed us in what he thought was the right order as we directed him in what we thought was the right order. Of course, the Rabbi did write down the right order and it would have come in handy if Lindsay remembered to bring that list. So, in reality, we never actually rehearsed or we rehearsed the wrong order because as we went over the Rabbi’s list of the order, it was quite different. Consequently, I’m very confused now. Do I walk Lindsay down the aisle with Mark at the very beginning as she appears at the end, or do Mark and I walk down the aisle first, turn and look as Lindsay comes in and then walk her down the aisle? I have no idea. One thing I suspect, though, is that I will probably not have remembered this anyway if we rehearsed it correctly in the first place.

The rehearsal dinner took place a little earlier than usual because Michele, Scott’s, sister is due to give birth next week. A lot going on here. A lot of wonderful things.

After the rehearsal, we went to Sergio’s for dinner, hosted by Phil and Phyllis, Scott’s parents. They wrote a touching speech/toast, which Phil read, expressing their pride in Scott and their joy in him finding Lindsay and welcoming our family to their family as our children marry. Then, we ate; we drank wine; we laughed. It was lovely, even though, oddly, everyone got a different kind of piece of cake at the end.

I have a checklist in my head of all the things that need to be done and all the things that have been done. The seating, which was an absolute nightmare, is finished, I think. Every time Lindsay called me to help her with the seating, I kept telling her I couldn’t help unless I see it. It was finally accomplished with Phyllis’ help. We’re still debating over whether to have programs and menus or just programs or just menus. I don’t know when that’s going to be settled, but I’m getting tired of being asked the question Should we have programs and no menus or menus and no programs or both programs and menus or neither. And my answer to all of the above is, “Ask Aunt Bonni.” My sister-in-law, Bonni has become the go-to gal for all the final details. Thank goodness. She’s been a wedding planner before and I didn’t want her to “work” for Lindsay’s wedding at first because I wanted her to be a guest, but she’s more than happy to do it and I’m more than happy to have her do it. So now, when I wonder why Lindsay hasn’t been calling me ninety times a day to ask me questions I can’t find an answer to, I find out that she’s been calling her Aunt Bonni ninety times a day.

Dresses. Yesterday, mom’s dress got crossed off the list. We went to the store to pick it up. She looks absolutely elegant in her lacy, silvery blue gown with sparkling sequins glittering throughout. My gown is at the dressmaker, being altered. The only possible problem with it, as the seamstress explained to me, is the zipper, which is the kind that gets stuck, sometimes. Wonderful. She promised she would try to fix that. I am trying to be optimistic about that. I know Kim’s dress is being altered and was two sizes too big because she lost weight. Her shoes, which needed to by dyed, will be ready, we hope, three days before the wedding, but I’m trying to be optimistic about that, as well. And the final fitting for Lindsay’s wedding gown will be this Thursday, after a whole day of final details at the Riviera with Aunt Bonni, the florist and whoever else Lindsay told me was going to be there.

Everything needs to be perfect. Not only because we want it to be perfect to begin with, but also now because it will be televised on a TLC wedding show, where Lindsay is competing against three other brides for a honeymoon. So, the three brides will be there, as guests, and they will be critiquing and rating the wedding on film. Mark is not cooperating about signing the release for his appearance on the TV show, so I might be on camera walking down the aisle with a man with a pixilated face. I’m going to be optimistic that Mark will change his mind and that my zipper will zip, though. That is my mantra for the next two weeks- BE OPTIMISTIC.

Optimism is my armor, my shield, because in these final days, the unexpected still makes appearances; for example, now Mark has a double hernia and needs surgery. We are scheduling this for right after the wedding and keeping him away from lifting any heavy objects and not doing any exotic dance moves at the wedding.

Optimism. Deep breath. Positive energy. The right order. Two more

weeks…….yikes….